Chapter 9: Shadows Between Us
Tara's temporary abode smelled faintly of coffee and wet paper. The rain outside had been falling steadily since morning, a rhythm that matched the unease in Adanna's chest.
She hadn't been back to her real house since that night, the night when she'd felt eyes watching her through the half-open curtains. For her own safety, Tara had persuaded her to remain in the temporary apartment. "No one will find you here," she'd promised. But Adanna wasn't so sure anymore. Safety had become a word she didn't trust.
She sat on the edge of the narrow couch, her fingers encircling a mug she wasn't drinking from. Tara moved quietly and quickly around the room, setting her laptop on the low table and connecting a flash drive. The blue glow of the screen lit up her sharp features.
"I found something," Tara said without preamble. "You need to see this."
Adanna looked up, her voice low. "More files?"
"More like proof."
Tara turned the laptop toward her. On the screen was a photo of Kene standing beside a man in a crisp suit. His wrist glinted with a familiar silver watch.
Adanna leaned forward. "That's the same man from the envelope photo."
"Chief Nnadozie," Tara confirmed. "Officially, he's a contractor. But look here." She opened a folder of scanned documents. "These are payment logs from a coded operation called Project Void. The same name that keeps coming up in your notes."
Adanna's eyes narrowed as she scanned the documents. Kene's name appeared in one of the transaction trails. "You're saying Kene worked for him?"
"Worked with him," Tara said carefully. "I don't think it was by choice. The same dates here match the period he went missing last year."
Adanna's heart clenched. "So what was he doing all this time?"
"I don't know. But I think Kene was tied to something dangerous. Something that's still active."
The rain grew heavier. The window rattled with the wind. Adanna stared at Kene's frozen smile on the screen, the ghost of a man she used to know or thought she did.
"Do you think he was spying on me?" she whispered.
Tara's face softened. "No. But maybe he was trying to protect you. Or maybe he didn't even have the choice to tell you the truth."
Before Adanna could respond, her phone vibrated against the table. Unknown number.
Her stomach tightened. She glanced at Tara. "Should I...?"
"Put it on speaker," Tara said.
Adanna swiped the screen. "Hello?"
There was a pause. Then a familiar voice, low and rushed:
"Adanna… It's me."
Her heart stopped. "Kene?"
The air in the room changed instantly. Tara froze where she sat. Adanna stood, gripping the phone tightly, her voice trembling.
"Kene, where are you? Do you have any idea what's been happening?"
"Adanna," he said quickly, "you're not safe. You shouldn't have stayed in Enugu. They're watching everything."
"Who's watching?" she asked. "You need to explain. You disappeared without a word"
"I couldn't tell you. They would've come for you first."
His voice broke slightly. "The files you found… they weren't meant for you. Project Void is bigger than you think. If Tara's with you, listen....."
Static filled the line. Then the voice returned, lower.
".....don't trust anyone."
The call cut.
Adanna blinked, stunned. "He he said not to trust anyone."
Tara frowned. "He's paranoid. That's what happens when you've been running too long."
"But he said it like a warning," Adanna whispered. "And his voice… he sounded scared."
Tara closed her laptop. "Look, he's probably being forced to say things. People like Chief Nnadozie use fear to control loyalty."
Adanna sat down again, her hands shaking. "No, Tara. He wasn't reading from a script. I could feel it. He was trying to tell me something."
Tara hesitated, then reached into her bag and pulled out another folder. "Then maybe this will help you understand."
She placed it on the table. Inside were more photos, all black-and-white surveillance stills. Adanna leaned forward. Her eyes widened.
Each image showed the same man, "Kene", meeting different people in dimly lit places: a hotel lobby, a gas station, an airport. In some, his face was partly hidden. But there was no mistaking him.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Records of his movements during the months he disappeared," Tara said. "Someone has been tracking him. These came from a secure police database."
"How did you even get this?"
Tara gave a faint smile. "You don't want to know."
Adanna flipped through the photos slowly. With each one, her chest grew tighter. The Kene she remembered, the one who used to laugh softly when she teased him about his late-night calls, felt like a stranger now.
But one photo stopped her cold.
It showed Kene inside a laboratory standing in front of a whiteboard filled with equations and symbols. And there, behind him, faint but visible, was the same circular symbol she had seen carved into the envelope from the first day a circle intersected by a single blue thread.
"Tara…" she whispered. "This symbol again."
Tara leaned closer. "That's the same mark from the Project Void files. It keeps showing up."
"Do you think Kene drew it?"
"Maybe," Tara said softly. "Or maybe he was trying to erase it."
Thunder rolled outside. The sound felt too close, like a warning.
Adanna reached for her jacket. "We need to leave this city."
"Where will we even go?" Tara asked.
"To Abuja," Adanna said. "That's where the coordinates in the file pointed. That's where this all connects."
Tara hesitated. "That's a dangerous move. If Kene's right, going there might expose us both."
"And staying here won't?" Adanna shot back. "They already know we've seen too much."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The rain filled the silence. Then Tara sighed. "Fine. But we go quietly. No calls, no digital trails."
Adanna nodded.
Before they could pack, a soft chime came from Tara's laptop — an alert. The same flash drive Adanna had opened earlier had automatically reconnected to the system. A video began to play.
Kene appeared on-screen, looking exhausted but alive. "If you're watching this," he said, "then I failed to reach you in time. Project Void isn't what you think. It's not just data — it's human memory."
Adanna's breath caught.
Kene continued, voice trembling: "They're experimenting with memory extraction. Turning what we know, what we remember, into code. I helped them once, thinking it was for research. But they're using it to rewrite identities. If you don't stop them—"
The video glitched, breaking into static. Then one final line came through:
"Don't trust Tara."
Adanna froze.
Tara's hand hovered over the laptop, her face pale. "That's edited," she said quickly. "Someone wants you to doubt me."
"But it's his voice."
"I can fake a voice too, Adanna. Please — don't let them divide us."
Adanna took a slow step back. Her mind was spinning. Could Tara be lying? Or was Kene setting another trap?
The rain outside shifted to a soft drizzle. Silence filled the apartment. Then — a faint noise. The creak of a floorboard.
Adanna turned sharply. The sound came from the corridor.
Tara's eyes widened. "Someone's here."
Adanna's phone buzzed. A new message appeared on-screen:
"You shouldn't have opened the files."
Her hands went cold. Tara moved quickly, unplugging the laptop and shoving it into her bag.
"Move," she whispered. "Now."
They slipped through the back stairwell, leaving the dim apartment behind. Adanna didn't look back, but as the door swung shut, she swore she heard faint static still playing from the laptop speaker.
Kene's voice, distorted but clear enough to echo in her mind:
"If you're watching this… It's already begun."