Chapter 22: The Missing Body

Sleep refused to come.

Patricia lay awake in the guest room of Obadiah's safe house, staring at the ceiling.

The revelations of the past week replayed endlessly in her mind.

Grace Akinyi.

Obadiah.

Rose.

Sarah Waore.

Project Ashes.

The flash drive.

The threats against Glen and Faith.

Every answer seemed to create three new questions.

Eventually, she reached for her phone.

Perhaps distraction would help.

Instead, she found herself scrolling through old family photographs.

One image after another.

Birthdays.

Church functions.

Graduations.

Christmas celebrations.

Family picnics at Lake Nakuru.

Moments that had once seemed ordinary.

Now they felt different.

Patricia paused on a photograph of Alison's first birthday.

Mercy stood smiling beside the cake.

Young.

Radiant.

Proud.

Another photo followed.

Mercy heavily pregnant.

A hand resting on her swollen belly.

Alison wasn't born yet.

Patricia frowned.

She kept scrolling.

Another pregnancy photograph.

Then another.

Then a baby shower.

Family members surrounding Mercy.

Laughing.

Celebrating.

Patricia's heartbeat slowed.

Something felt strange.

She opened another album.

More family photographs.

Years and years of memories.

Then she noticed it.

A gap.

A very specific gap.

There were dozens of photographs before Alison's birth.

Dozens after Patricia's arrival.

Yet not a single image existed showing Mercy pregnant with her.

Not one.

No baby shower.

No maternity dress.

No clinic visits.

Nothing.

Patricia sat upright.

The realization struck gently.

Not like a bomb.

Not like the DNA results.

Not like Joel's revelations.

This one arrived quietly.

Like a truth that had always been there.

Waiting.

She suddenly remembered relatives making comments throughout her childhood.

"You have different eyes."

"You're the only one with that smile."

"You don't resemble Mercy at all."

At the time, they had sounded harmless.

Now they carried new meaning.

Patricia looked at a picture of Mercy holding her as a baby.

The older woman's face glowed with happiness.

Pure happiness.

Not obligation.

Not guilt.

Love.

Real love.

Tears filled Patricia's eyes.

Because at that moment she understood something important.

Mercy had lied.

Yes.

But she had also chosen her.

Every single day for twenty-six years.

The woman who fed her.

Protected her.

Stayed awake when she was sick.

Cheered her victories.

Mourned her failures.

That woman was still her mother.

DNA could never change that.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Patricia?"

Obadiah.

She quickly wiped her eyes.

"Come in."

The billionaire entered carrying a folder.

His expression was serious.

Urgent.

Something had happened.

"What is it?"

Obadiah closed the door behind him.

"We received information about Joel."

Patricia immediately stood.

"Joel?"

The old man nodded.

"His belongings were transferred to the Nakuru County Mortuary."

Her pulse quickened.

"What belongings?"

"A satchel."

Patricia frowned.

"So?"

Obadiah's eyes narrowed.

"The satchel wasn't listed among the items recovered at the hospital."

Silence.

A dangerous silence.

Because both of them immediately understood what that meant.

Someone had hidden it.

Or someone wanted it hidden.

"What was inside?"

"We don't know."

Patricia's heartbeat accelerated.

Then she asked the obvious question.

"When do we go?"

Obadiah almost smiled.

"That's exactly what I hoped you'd say."

Across Nakuru, Fiona Lawama ended her call and slowly lowered her phone.

The information was troubling.

Very troubling.

Joel Aliet's personal effects had not been fully catalogued.

A satchel was missing from the official inventory.

The journalist had been carrying it shortly before the shooting.

Then it disappeared.

Fiona looked toward the mysterious man seated in the shadows.

The mastermind.

The man behind Project Ashes.

"The satchel exists."

The man remained silent.

Then:

"Retrieve it."

Simple.

Cold.

Final.

Fiona nodded.

The order required no explanation.

If Joel had left evidence behind, they couldn't risk Patricia finding it.

Not now.

Not ever.

Two hours later.

Nakuru County Mortuary.

The building sat at the edge of the hospital compound.

Isolated.

Quiet.

Unsettling.

Patricia stepped out of Obadiah's vehicle and immediately felt cold.

The place carried a strange atmosphere.

The silence felt unnatural.

Heavy.

Oppressive.

Obadiah was accompanied by two trusted security men.

Nothing flashy.

Nothing obvious.

But professionals nonetheless.

Inside, a sleepy attendant checked documents before allowing them access.

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead.

The corridors seemed endless.

Patricia hated every second.

Finally, they reached the records office.

The attendant retrieved a storage box.

"These were his belongings."

Patricia's pulse quickened.

The box contained:

A wallet.

A phone.

A notebook.

Keys.

A wristwatch.

Nothing unusual.

Nothing valuable.

Nothing worth killing for.

Then Obadiah noticed it.

"The satchel."

The attendant frowned.

"What satchel?"

Obadiah's expression darkened.

"The satchel recovered at the hospital."

The attendant checked again.

Then again.

His confusion appeared genuine.

"It isn't here."

Patricia exchanged a glance with Obadiah.

Someone had already beaten them to it.

At that exact moment, another vehicle rolled quietly into the mortuary parking lot.

Fiona stepped out.

Dressed entirely in black.

Two men followed behind her.

She immediately spotted Obadiah's vehicle.

And froze.

"They're already here."

One of her men cursed softly.

Fiona's eyes narrowed.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

She hadn't expected Obadiah to move this quickly.

For several seconds, she considered leaving.

Then changed her mind.

No.

If the satchel was here, she needed it.

Regardless of who else showed up.

"Let's move."

Inside the records room, Patricia's attention drifted toward a nearby corridor.

A movement.

A shadow.

Someone had just passed.

She frowned.

Then her stomach tightened.

A familiar silhouette.

Elegant.

Confident.

Female.

Her pulse exploded.

"Obadiah."

The billionaire looked up.

"What?"

Patricia lowered her voice.

"Fiona."

Silence.

Instant silence.

Obadiah immediately understood.

Their enemies had arrived.

Both camps were now inside the mortuary.

Searching for the same thing.

And neither side wanted the other to find it first.

Several minutes later, Fiona stood beside a storage room reviewing inventory logs.

Her frustration grew with every page.

Nothing.

No satchel.

No evidence.

No clue.

Then one of her men approached.

"We have a problem."

"What?"

The man swallowed.

"The body."

Fiona frowned.

"What body?"

"Joel Aliet."

A cold sensation crawled up her spine.

The man looked visibly shaken.

"The drawer is empty."

Fiona stared.

For a moment, she thought she had misheard.

"What do you mean 'empty'?"

The man pointed toward the mortuary wing.

"We checked twice."

Silence.

Terrible silence.

Then Fiona walked quickly toward the cold storage area.

Her footsteps echoed through the corridor.

One drawer after another.

Rows of steel compartments.

The attendant nervously opened the correct one.

Fiona looked inside.

And felt genuine shock.

The drawer was empty.

Joel Aliet's body was gone.

Not moved.

Not misplaced.

Gone.

And somewhere behind another corridor, Patricia overheard the commotion.

Her heart nearly stopped.

Because if Joel's body had disappeared...

Then perhaps Joel Aliet had never been meant to die that night.