Ms dukings hung her head outside the moving van. Eyes darting from scrub to scrub. Hill to hill. As though he would pop up. She didn’t want to miss any moment. The journey from Ibadan to Lagos central was four hours, out of which they had exhausted 2. Detective Kozak had attempted making small talks with the distressed mother earlier during their Journey despite being overwhelming bad at it himself. He eventually gave up. If psychology had taught him anything, it was that if you couldn’t distract the mind from it’s ongoing war, you would consequently excite it.
At this point of the journey everything was beginning to look like tumbleweed to Ms dukings yet she couldn’t let herself blink until she noticed Kozak slowing down at the end of the roundabout and turning into the roadside gas station on the outskirt of Kaduna island. The Automobile was coming to a halt when she started;
Wh— what are you doing?
The detective heaved, “your mind could use a break and frankly I’d like a cup of coffee myself”
“I’ll wait here”, she objected.
Knowing there was nothing he could do to convince her, the detective opened the door to elit the vehicle as Dukings held his hand and squeezed them as tight as she could. As their eyes met she confirmed her fears;
“You are my Last hope. We have to find my son”
“This is the last stop before we enter Lagos. Ms Dukings”, `Said the detective as he observed at the vast horizon.” Be prepared for what we’ll find”.