TRAPPED...Part 22.

"No, no, that is not him."

I tried hard to suppress the flood of nausea rising in me. Something about the sick, pungent smell of the embalming fluid, made me feel woozy. My eyes stung, the formed tears blurring my vision. I wiped them with the back of my hand.

The mortician, a bald, short, good-natured man, noticing my discomfort, headed for the door.

"I am sorry, that is all we've got."

I nodded and took one last sweeping look at the room. It was more spacious than the others but also poorly lit and crammed full of dead bodies. The fortunate ones lay naked on the slabs. The rest lay on the floor. The smell of the embalming fluid hung in the air like a thick curtain. The dead silence in the room was punctured by our departing footsteps.

A gust of fresh air hit my nostrils as we emerged outside. I took a lungful and tried to dispel the images of the countless, naked male bodies I just saw.

"Any luck?" Sergeant Okoli asked. He was seated on the wooden bench in front of the morgue, the third one we had visited that day.

I shook my head.

The mortician cleared his throat. I fetched my purse and handed him a crisp five hundred naira note. "Thank you very much."

He beamed. "No problem, Mah. I pray that you find him alive."

I nodded in agreement, trying to force a smile. Sergeant Okoli rose.

My phone rang. It was Old Major.

"Good evening, Papa. Any news?"

"Stella nwa m. We have searched all the hospitals in Amuwo-Odofin and Festac area. Nothing. Including the morgues." His voice was laddened with grief.

"We will keep looking, Papa. Just stay strong. We will find him. How is Bola holding up?"

"Ahhh! She has been crying all day. The wedding is supposed to hold tomorrow, you know. We are driving back to the house. I think I have seen enough hospitals and dead bodies for one day."

"Okay. I will come over to the house."

I entered the front seat of the Police van. The Sergeant was at the wheels.

"Thanks a lot for today," I said.

He shrugged. "I was just doing my duty."

We approached the hospital gate. He fumbled his breast pocket and fetched a tally which he returned to the grinning security man. The car turned onto the road and soon joined the long line of other cars moving very slowly.

"Kai! Traffic o! Where are you headed?" he asked.

"I am going to Amuwo-Odofin but I will make a stop at Oshodi to check on my daughter. This traffic is gradually building up o!"

"Yeah. It is almost five o'clock. Many people are leaving their offices for their homes. And thanks to the traffic, some will not get home till 10pm."

I chuckled. "That's Lagos for you. Which side do you stay?"

"Festac. 5th Avenue. How old is your daughter?"

"Five."

"How are you related to the missing person, Dan?"

I scratched my head. "Well...we used to date."

"Oh. I see."

We drove in silence for some time. I dialled Dan's number one more time. It was still switched off.

"His wedding is tomorrow, right?"

"Yes."

He chuckled. "It seems someone does not want this wedding to hold."

It struck me immediately what he might be thinking.

"No, Officer. He has been a great friend and I would never wish him harm."

"Who said anything about harm?" He shot me a strange look and pulled the car over.

"Let me make something clear to you, Stella. I have watched you closely since this investigation. The fact that you are highly motivated to find Dan could mean one of two things. You may genuinely want him back. Or you may be covering your tracks. I would love to believe the former. But make no mistakes, until we get any important lead in this case, you are still a key suspect."

I felt my leg buckle under me. His last statement broke my heart.

"Just take me home."

I looked out of the window as he drove, a deep pain gnawing at my heart. We soon entered my street. The van stopped in front of my house. I came down, slamming the door behind me.

"Should I wait for you?" he asked.

"Don't!" I hurried into compound and ran up the stairs.

"Mummy!"

Victory welcomed me with a warm embrace as soon as Nkechi opened the door.

I hugged her little frame and carried her up in the air. She yelled in excitement. "I missed you, Vicky darling. Have you eaten?"

She nodded, smiling.

"Any progress? Is he back?" Nkechi asked.

I shook my head. "Tomorrow is the wedding."

"There will be no wedding. Except a miracle happens."

"I will be going over to Old Major's place. Just came to check on you and Vicky. Thanks for everything."

"Oya, go and change those clothes. And eat something."

I set Vicky down on the bed and went to the bathroom. It felt good to be home again.

The look on Abdul's face told me nothing has changed. I noticed the police van parked beside the red Volvo. The living room was full. Sergeant Okoli was seated with Old Major on one sofa. Dan's two sisters, Chiemeka and Añuli were in the room. Añuli held Bola who was whimpering in a corner. Chiemeka was discussing with her husband, Mike, a pastor. I greeted them as I entered, dropped my phone on the centre table and sat quietly in a corner.

The Sergeant rose to leave. "Like I said earlier, keep all lines open and notify me if you get any calls." Old Major saw him off to the door.

We sat quietly, all eyes fixed on the centre table. Six phones laid close to each other. None rang. 

"Chai! I am finished!" Bola exclaimed, ushering a fresh round of tears.

I went to console her. "Babe, he will return. I nugo?"

"When?" she asked, looking at me. I swallowed hard. "How do I tell all the invited guests that there will be no wedding?"

"Of course, there will be a wedding," Mike said, rising to his feet. "God is about to do a big miracle." He lifted his bible and broke into worship song. We all joined in.

We prayed all night. As the cock crows signalled the dawn of a new day, our weary eyelids were heavy with sleep. Our sore voices chorused the last rounds of the 'Amen'. I sank into the sofa, exhausted and slept off. I had a dream of Dan, in a well-tailored black suit, rousing me from sleep. I opened my eyes. It was Chiemeka, offering me a steaming plate of rice. My face fell flat.

"What is the time?" I asked, setting the plate down on a stool.

"8.30 am," she said.

I looked around. Bola and Añuli were up, staring disinterestedly at their plates of food. Old Major was still sleeping. Pastor Mike was gone.

The aroma from the jollof rice wafted into my nostrils triggering more rumblings in my stomach. We did not eat dinner the previous night and spent a great deal of energy disturbing heaven. I took two spoonfuls. It tasted good.

Old Major roused from his sleep, opened his eyes, looked at the clock and shook his head.

"Good morning, Papa," we chorused.

He merely nodded and entered his room.

We ate in silence, occasionally stealing glances at the wall clock and staring at the phones on the centre table.

As soon as the clock struck 9.00am, Bola gave a loud cry.

"There goes my wedding!"

I rushed to her side. Just then, we heard a phone ring. Old Major's phone. For an instant, we stood transfixed, eyes on the centre table, wondering if we heard right. It continued ringing. Old Major ran into the living room and picked it.

"Hello...Oh, Dan." His face brightened up. "My son where have you been? We have been looking for you..."

Bola snatched the phone from his ears. "Daniel!" she screamed. "Why did you do this to me?" Suddenly, her countenance changed. She punched some buttons and dropped the phone on the centre table.

"Mr. Fabian Olisa, I have your son, Daniel." 

The voice was deep and cold. "Now, that you have confirmed that he is alive, listen very carefully and do exactly as I say. Otherwise, we will send him to you in pieces."

A cold shiver ran down my spine. We listened as he spoke, our face contorted in worry. When he was done, the line went dead. I looked at Bola, the fresh tears on her face betraying the horror of the moment. Hugging Old Major tightly, my dam of emotions blew open. I cried.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015. Follow me on Twitter @dr_alams.