Chapter Five: Ghost in the shell

" There's something I must do, please. I need one of your cars..." I hadn't finished when he cut in.

" Take any one you want...will you be back today?"

" I should," I replied, and requested for his phone. I saved my number and dialled it. It went through and I handed it over. " I will let you know if there's any change of plans." I add, about to turn when he grabbed my right. I stare blankly at him, while his eyes traveled between my eyes and lower. “ Is there something else?” I cleared my throat and asked, a part of me wishing to disappear in a blink. 

“ Yes.” His eyes went down, slowly, without an attempt to mask the hunger in his eyes. 

“ I should go now.”

“ I could drive you…”

“No.” I cut in, my eyes snapping away from his. I pull my hand free and amble away, my heart throbbing inside in a way that made me pause outside to catch my breath. 

Hours later, I parked the blue Cadillac yards away from the home I have always known. The lawn of my mother's old friend and neighbours stretch out in my eyes. Her porch is a little deserted than it usually by this time. Just like the overgrown lawn, the porch has weeds forming a sere. Her flowers have grown taller, and have branched a little more than her industrious hands normally permits. I look around, my eyes scanning the environment with concern. It's quiet here. Not only odd for a crowded neighbourhood, but Mrs. Gretchen Ross has been a hub for little gossips, worries and emergency. Then I noticed the stretch of silence hanging in the air. Miinutes and not a single car has passed. I check the time. 2 on the dot. Most people are at work. That should explain it, but what about the kids?

I'm about getting off from the car when I see a flash come from the house. Just once. 

One flash: stay put. Two flashes: stay alert. Three flashes or more: run

Rules my mom had made when we went camping with few of the neighbours. Mrs. Ross happens to be one of those neighbours. Thankfully, the windows are rolled up, but I still slide down on the seat as Mom taught me. I scan the premises, and that's when I see them. Two men on a motorcycle. One has his hands ready to start, and the other has a hand lodged by his side. I check all angles I can see from my position. It's not them alone. They're about five more motorcycles. Each with two men, but a particular one has a female driver. I drive away, and join the traffic, waiting for the green light. Moments later, a boy on a bike drives by, music blasting the small speaker tied to his back. Somehow, the music cut through my thoughts like a warning on it's own. 

" Somebody's watching me. It's my anxiety…”

I'm deep in my thoughts when the red lights flipped to green. Honks snap me back and just then, I see one of those motorcycles drive by. I look ahead and something tells me they're after the boy. Or maybe I'm getting paranoid. It's likely to be the latter. 

Taking a detour, I text Godric and my brother the same address. No.16 Louvre estates, GoldenCity. One of the elite areas in the city, and home of Elizabeth West, Lawrence’s mother. 

“ Sorry I came by without prior notice.” I apologized, gauging her expression with mixed feelings. A part of me suspects she knows what her son has done to me, but the distant look in her eyes, like a worn out, distressed stare, punched my thoughts.

She motioned to a leather couch, and excused herself. She returned with a cup of water. Not a glass, plastic, nor ceramic. It's stainless steel. My eyebrows crease, a momentarily discomfort overcoming me. I grab the cup expecting it to be full. It's almost empty. I chuckle softly, drank up and set the cup down in front of her. My jaws clenched on their own, raw anger building up in a pit within me. I shrug it off and forced a smile on my lips.

“ So, what brings you here unannounced? You must already know that I don't have time to spare for inconsequential people. So, why are you here? Do you want money? Is that it?”

“ Mother…”

“ Elizabeth West. I am no mother of yours!”

Sharp sting of tears cut through my lenses, the growing pangs hitting home in my chest. I take a deep breath and leaned closer towards her. “ Do you know what your son has done to me?”

She let out a cold derisive laugh and stared at me, seemingly amused but it didn't reach her eyes. “ My son? What wrong has my son ever done that anyone should accuse him of anything?” She clicked her tongue in disdain, leaned closer with an audible sigh and shook her head. “ Your modern ladies are always so hasty to talk. So hasty in everything. Whatever happened to you is totally your fault. My Lawrence had no hand in it?”

I shake off a tear in my eyes and lifted my gaze to meet hers. “ Would you say the same thing to me if I were your daughter?”

Her smile fell, and a cloud thickened over her face. Then it disappeared. “ I don't have a daughter now, or do I?” She quizzed with contempt. 

“ And if you did? Would you say the same thing to her knowing the monster you have sheltered?” My voice cracked, fingers digging into my skin the same time I shot up to my feet pulsing with rage. “ How could she? How could she do this to me?”

Lawrence and I spent two days with her after we got married because he wanted us to be closer. I had lost my parents. I looked up to her in many ways, a part of me willing to let her fill that hole in my heart that had left me yearning for my mother in utter loneliness. I got closer to her. She smiled often. She hugged me often. She offered a hand everytime I entered the kitchen. I easily called her mother. It came naturally to me, because that was whom she had become to me.

Her back is turned towards me, but her balled fists do not escape my notice. She turned with a shaky breath, and a triumphant smile. “ What are you going to do? Arrest him? Goodluck with that.” She said, and went into her room. She returned few minutes later and met me collapsed on the chair, hands cupping my face. 

“ That's all you lots do. Sob, cry and throw a fit at the wrong people. Get up and go home.” She said to me, and handed me folded newspaper. “ Open it.”

I did as she instructed, and met a diamond necklace with an emerald embedded around every case of the choker. I chuckle bitterly. “ Is this some kind of payment for everything? Is this supposed to pay for everything?” I queried, my composure slipping off for a moment. 

“ I suggest you take it.”

“ I suggest you keep it,” I retorted. She smiled and shrugged, her eyes going down to the cup like something is lodging within it. I looked closer, and my knees sagged. I clasped my two hands, deliberately taking a closer look at the image reflecting on the surface of the cup. Behind me, the old maid lodge by a wall, head peeking out like a spy monitoring the conversation. 

“ What? Have you suddenly changed your mind?”

“ I'm curious… why haven't you asked about the details of what he has done to me?” 

She sniggered. “ And why will I do that? You chose to marry him. No one forced you.”

I shake my head and grabbed the newspaper, folding it back and shoving it into the right pocket of my pants. “ I lost too much to your son. This is no where enough.” I rasped and picked my pace leaving, but I bumped into the maid at the corner.

“ Are you leaving already?”

I nodded and walked away, but on second thoughts, I returned, my footsteps barely hitting the floor this time around. I'm still yards away from the sitting room when I heard the hoarseness of the maid's voice. “ That was good. Next time do not give her anything. Dismiss her quickly. And do not give her anything. What a waste!” 

My stomach churned. I froze by the wall and quickly came out the next moment when I heard footsteps hurrying my way. It was too late to run.

Her eyes widened for a moment. I looked away from her to the woman in the middle of the room. “ I wanted to know if you are aware that your beloved son has returned to the country.” 

Her gaze darkened. I scoffed. “ So, do you still think I can not arrest him?”

“Is that all, Celeste?” The maid quickly cut in. 

“ Is there something else you're expecting?” I snapped at her and loped away, but my knees nearly gave way. The second I got into the car, I opened the newspaper, my eyes searching for some clue or puzzle or anything she might have left behind for me. Then I saw it. Not only a written line. It's an obituary and the name of the deceased reads Lawrence West.

“ Dead?” I thought, reading the heading again. An accident. A fire. I checked the date. Nov, 6, 1990. Twenty years ago. Then I saw the affected house. Burnt beyond recognition, but something stood out. The address attached to the photo. No. 16 Louvre, Goldenberg. The former name of GoldenCity. 

Same house. Same owner, but different people as Lawrence West. I can only conclude that the man I married is not the real Lawrence West. He is not Elizabeth's son, but somehow he had stepped into the man's identity. 

I was about to fold the newspaper when the scribbled lines in red ink caught my attention. “ Leave. They will know.”

I turn the keys and drive away, my heart beat thrashing against my ribcage. “ If my husband isn't Lawrence West, who is he?"