Ifeyinwa walked out of The Lagoon's Brew and into the humid afternoon air, the weight of Nnenna's words settling over her like a damp cloth. The truth, as her aunt had warned, was a heavy thing. It was not just a story, but a complex, interconnected web of lies that had taken root in the very ground beneath her feet. The Omololu family was not just a powerful dynasty; they were murderers who had used her, a child with a curse, as a pawn in their game. The realization was both terrifying and strangely liberating. For years, she had felt a constant sense of unease, a gnawing guilt she couldn't place. Now, she knew why. The echoes were not a curse; they were a witness.
She got into her car, her hands gripping the steering wheel. The polished, air-conditioned interior felt foreign, a sterile bubble separating her from the pulsing, messy life of the city. She wanted to call Nonso, to tell him everything, but she hesitated. He was already a victim of this web of lies; burdening him with this new, brutal truth felt wrong. This wasn't just his story anymore. It was her family's, and now it was her fight. The echoes in her mind, once a chaotic chorus, now seemed to arrange themselves into a single, cohesive narrative. It was a story of two families, one rising to power through deceit, the other trying to survive.
Her architectural mind took over. She had always approached problems with a precise, methodical logic. A building with a structural flaw must be analyzed, its history researched, and its hidden weaknesses exposed. This was no different. She needed to go to the source. The place where it all began. The old construction site by the river.
The drive was long, a journey from the sleek, aspirational future of Lekki to the worn, forgotten past of another part of the city. As she drove, the buildings around her changed. The glass towers gave way to faded concrete structures. The manicured lawns were replaced by overgrown fields and makeshift stalls. The air grew thicker, heavier with the smell of stagnant water and old diesel. The echoes here were different too, less a whisper and more of a low groan. This was the city's heart, where history was not just remembered, but felt. She felt a profound sadness for the innocent lives that had been tangled in this web. The young journalist, Chidi, whose career was stolen, and the anonymous accountant, whose life was silenced.
She found the road easily. It was a dusty, unpaved stretch that ended abruptly at the edge of the river. The old construction site was a ghost town, a testament to a project that had been abandoned years ago. A rusted gate, hanging on a single hinge, was the only barrier. The sign above it was faded, but she could still make out the words: "Omololu Construction." Her heart hammered in her chest. She got out of her car, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the silence.
The site was a desolate landscape of broken concrete and twisted rebar. Puddles of murky water reflected the grey sky. The only sound was the wind, whistling through the skeletal remains of a half-built foundation. This was where the echoes were strongest. She could feel the history of the place, the tension, the fear, the anger. She walked carefully, her eyes scanning the ground. The echoes were a physical presence now, a tingling on her skin, a low vibration in the air. She closed her eyes and listened.
She heard the roar of an engine, the frantic, panicked shouts of two men. A flash of light, blinding and sudden. The sickening sound of metal on flesh, a sound that made her stomach lurch. She saw it all, a vivid, agonizing memory played out in her mind's eye. The truck was old, a beat-up, rusty thing. The driver was a young man with a scared face, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and resolve. He wasn't just a murderer; he was a victim too. He was a man who was forced to choose between his conscience and his life. The echoes told her so. She saw a flicker of a tattoo on his arm, a symbol she didn't recognize. The echoes showed her his name, a name that was lost to the city's whispers: Dayo. Dayo was a man who was not only coerced into doing this, he was also afraid of what would happen if he didn't. She saw him drive away, his hands trembling, his face pale. His silent fear was a new kind of echo she had never felt before, a memory of a man who was forced to commit an unspeakable crime to save his own family from being "disappeared."
The vision faded, leaving her trembling. She had not only seen the crime; she had felt the human cost of it. The echoes were no longer just a burden; they were a roadmap, a guide to a truth that was buried deep within the city's foundations. The Omololus hadn't just gotten away with murder; they had created a network of fear and coercion to do their dirty work. Dayo, the driver, was a victim, just like Chidi and the accountant.
Ifeyinwa opened her eyes, the desolate landscape of the old construction site a stark contrast to the vivid memories in her mind. She had a new lead. She knew a name. She knew a piece of the puzzle that no one else did. The echoes were not a curse; they were a path, and she was ready to follow them, no matter where they led. She would not live a lie, not anymore. She would expose the monsters hiding in the shadows and bring the truth to light. The city's ghosts were her allies, and she was ready to listen.