The night after Valentina burial.

The grandfather clock beat midnight. Mrs. Eze paced about the entire length of the sitting room in a satin night robe. She couldn't sleep because her thoughts were in a jumble. The image of Valentina being lowered into a brown earthy pit was engraved in her mind. She clasped her hand, shrugging her shoulder as tears began to cloud her vision. It had only been a couple of days she called her daughter on phone—to hear from her—before she heard the sad news. She was shattered, Valentina was her only child.

She perched on the edge of a tattered green sofa, blinking her eyes repeatedly. She refused to believe it. Refused to believe that Valentina had been murdered, her body severed into bits. Tears trickled from her red rimmed eyes down her stubborn chin to the arms crossed under her full breasts. Her legs bounced against the seat leg as she tried to bite back a scream. She couldn't understand why God decided to snatch her source of joy and hope from her.

She hadn't gone to a soothsayer to beg for a child, neither did she acquire any enemies. What then was her crime? Mrs Eze rolled on the bare floor, she didn't care about the fact that her head was throbbing–her daughter had gone through worse. Left at the mercy of her predator. Her fingers formed into a tight fist that kept slamming the ground, asking God why he didn't deem it fit to fight the battle for her daughter.

She wondered if he had actually reasoned that she couldn't ever give birth after her first child; her womb was blocked with several impurities. Her tribe scorned her for birthing a female child and her peers laughed at her. But Mrs Eze didn't care, the love she had for her daughter knew no bounds. She never doubted for a second that Valentina was God's choice. But then—reality hit her hard, she wiped snort from her nose and curled herself up in a tight ball.

She vowed to never sleep or tire to pray until her daughter's killer was found and brought to brook. Mrs Eze was jolted by the sound of someone clearing his throat from the ante parlor entrance. Her husband. Mr Eze's sleep had been cut short when he heard the bitter woes of his wife.

He too felt a gut wrenching pain when the school authorities had called him from the office. He thought it was a silly joke until he arrived home few minutes late to see his wife with a kitchen knife in hand, threatening to hurt herself if her daughter wasn't delivered safely back to her. He sighed heavily, wrapping his strong lean arms around her round waist to assist her in getting off the ground.

Mrs Eze rested her head on his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

"It's okay, honey. No amount of cries is going to bring her back to life." Mr Eze tried to comfort her, pulling her body closer to him but she flinched from his touch, shooting him an angry glare. "Let Amadioha not strike your tongue for saying that," she seethed. She recoiled, resting on a throw pillow.

"So, what do you want us to do now?" Mr Eze asked, sitting akimbo.

"Fight for justice. Our daughter's killer is still roaming the streets of Portharcourt happily. For his mind, she was an easy target. He must not go unpunished!" Mrs Eze exclaimed with a croaked voice.

"And how do you know that the murderer is a guy?" Mr Eze reasoned, eyeing his wife as she began to pat the seat furiously for something. After a minute, she came up with a small device, clutching it in her palm. "What's that?" Mr Eze inquired, drifting close.

Mrs Eze threw her face away as she held her hand outstretched. "Take it," she gestured, angry tears brimming in her eyes. Mr Eze collected the small button phone and looked at it, memories of Valentina's twenty-first birthday flashing through his mind. She'd been complaining bitterly of her former Samsung phone that had stolen for weeks before he gathered enough money to get a new one. He presented it to her on that fateful day, not missing the grateful smile that lit up her pretty face.

She'd pulled him in for a hug, jumping excitedly that she finally got a phone—although it didn't cost much. Mr Eze was always stricken with worry, trying to make ends meet and train his daughter through school. He watched her lively eyes shimmer with tears as his wife offered her own birthday present. She was able to get a black heeled shoe on credit from her friend's boutique store during one of her infamous discount sales.

Mrs Eze had been elated that Valentina decided to travel home to spend quality time with them as she celebrated a new age. She never failed to crown their efforts with her brilliance and hard work. She'd been had been a star student right from her pre-nursery. Her brain picked things fast and before she was five, she could read three letter words without stammering. She received a lot of monetary gifts as compensation and was awarded a scholarship in her primary six.

Mr Eze held onto the phone like it was his life and switched it on. "I went through her contacts and text messages. There's one person she frequently calls, I think his number is stored with a love emoji. He must be her boyfriend or something." Mrs Eze sniffed, her chest heaving with great effort.

Mr Eze clicked on one of the numerous messages and went through them, one by one without batting an eyelid. "Did you see it?" His wife asked after what seemed like hours, letting out a bitter, sardonic laughter.

Mr Eze stalled, his gaze landing on a text his daughter had sent to a certain Fikayo an hour before she was murdered. She'd called him a good-for-nothing bastard for shredding her heart to pieces. She told him he was a punk and that she promised to deal with him in a way that would shatter him and cause him ceaseless amount of pain.

Mr Eze frowned slightly, lifting his head to stare at his grieving wife. "Do you think he had something to do with her death?"

Mrs Eze bit her bottom lip as more tears cascaded down her cheek. "I don't know but he's the first suspect. I always told our daughter to stay away from boys–the only thing they bring is bad luck but she wouldn't listen. Now, see ehn."

She placed a hand on her throbbing head, writhing in anguish. Her daughter's lodge caretaker couldn't attest to seeing or hearing anything as they went over to move her things. But she was sure, someone somewhere knew something about it. It was only a matter of time before the truth would be uncovered.

"Alright. First thing tomorrow morning, I am going to go to the school, requesting to see the vice chancellor. We must find out who did this," Mr Eze stated, linking hands with his wife as he guided her to their bedroom.