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SHADOW KILLER


CHAPTER 1: THE HOTEL

The Grand Royal Hotel, 9:47 PM.

In the laundry room at the back of the hotel, a real waitress lay dead inside a linen closet, her neck twisted. Her uniform was gone.

In Room 412, Senator Dickson, a 60-year-old billionaire, was in bed with a young woman. The table was full of champagne and money. His briefcase full of dollars lay open on the chair.

There was a knock.

"Room service!"

"Come in!" the girl giggled.

The door opened.

A waitress entered with a covered tray. But she looked strange. She wore a Bob wig, dark glasses, and a black hat pulled low, covering half her face. Dressed in the stolen waitress costume.

The girl frowned. "Why are you wearing glasses and hat inside?"

"Compliments from management, madam," she said calmly, placing the tray down. She moved closer to the bed.

Senator Dickson stared at her. "I didn't order anything. And why is your face covered like that?"

She didn't answer. In a flash, her hand went under the tray.

A knife.

The first throw hit Senator in the throat before he could shout. He gurgled and fell back, blood spreading on the white sheets.

The young woman screamed, "AHHH! MURDER!"

She turned fast, pulled a second knife from under the tray and threw it. It hit the girl in the chest. She fell dead on the floor.

Silence.

She didn't panic. She cleaned her knives with the bedsheet, put them back in her thigh holster, picked up the briefcase full of money, and walked out like nothing happened.

The CCTV in the corridor captured her leaving — but her face was not clearly seen. The Bob wig, the glasses, and the black hat covered everything. To the camera, she was just a strange-looking waitress.

Ten minutes later, the hotel manager found the bodies and the real waitress hidden in the linen closet and called the police.

CHAPTER 2: THE INVESTIGATION

DPO Brian arrived with his team.

"Jesus Christ! Double homicide!" his sergeant said.

Brian looked around. No fingerprints. No struggle. No weapon. Just two bodies and an empty space where a briefcase used to be.

"Who was the last person to enter this room?" Brian asked.

"We checked CCTV. A waitress entered. But the face is not clear — she wore wig, glasses and hat. And we found our real waitress dead in the linen closet. Her uniform was stolen."

"So she killed a waitress first, wore her uniform to disguise?" Brian said. "Get me that CCTV footage. And call forensics. This killer is very smart. She left no trace."

At the station the next morning, the Commissioner was angry.

"Brian, this is the third rich man killed this month with the same pattern! Same knife wounds! We have no suspect!"

"I know, sir. The killer is smart. No prints, no DNA. And she now covers her face."



CHAPTER 3: THE PATTERN

After the Grand Royal Hotel murder, the city of Greenvilles was no longer at peace.

The press carried it everywhere: SENATOR AND SIDE CHICK MURDERED IN HOTEL ROOM BY FAKE WAITRESS. BRIEFCASE FULL OF DOLLARS MISSING._

On Channels TV, on Facebook, on Instagram blogs — everyone was talking about it.

DPO Brian was under serious pressure. The Commissioner called him every day.

"Brian, the Governor called me this morning! Senator Dickson was his friend! You must catch this killer!"

"Sir, we are trying. The CCTV face is not clear. The killer covered everything — Bob wig, glasses, black hat. No fingerprints. No DNA."

But that was just the beginning.

One week later — Mr. Donald was a 55-year-old real estate mogul. Very rich. He owned lot of estates. He had just closed from his site at 10 PM, driving his Lexus SUV, with a bag full of money in his boot — money from land sales.

He got to his big gate, honked. His gateman was sleeping.

He came down from his car to open the gate himself.

The street was dark. There was no light at that time.

As he was pulling the gate, a shadow moved behind him.

It was same killer. Wearing black hoodie, black leggings, face mask, Bob wig hidden under hood.

She didn't say a word.

First knife — she threw from 5 feet away — _gbam!_ — straight to his chest.

Mr. Donald shouted, "Arghh!"

He held his chest, blood coming out, trying to run back to his car.

Second knife — she threw — hit him in the throat. He fell on the ground, shaking, dead beside his gate.

She walked calmly, took his bag full of money from his car boot, took her knives back from his body, wiped them with his agbada, and disappeared into the dark.

His gateman woke up 30 minutes later and saw his oga lying dead.

Two weeks later — Another Senator had just come from a political meeting at 11 PM, drunk, with his police orderly.

His orderly helped him down from his Prado Jeep in front of his mansion.

"Go, go, you can go home, I will enter inside myself," Senator Prince told his orderly, drunk.

The orderly left.

Senator Prince was trying to open his small gate with his keys, staggering.

The shadow killer was already waiting inside his compound — she had scaled the fence earlier.

She came out of the dark flowers.

"Who is there?" Senator Prince squinted.

No answer.

First knife — chest. Senator Prince fell on his knees.

"What... what..."

Second knife — throat. He fell flat, dead, still holding his gate keys.

She took his expensive wristwatch, his gold chain, and his bag of money that was inside his car. She left the same way she entered — over the fence.

The pattern becomes clear. By now, it was three rich men killed in one month. Same style. Same weapon — custom combat knife. Same precision — expert knife thrower. Same motive — money and valuables taken.

The press gave her a name: "THE SHADOW KILLER OF GREEN VILLE" because no one ever saw her face clearly. Always in disguise, always at night, always silent.

At the police headquarters, Brian pinned photos on the board.

"Look at this! Senator Dickson — throat stab. Mr. Donald — chest and throat. Senator Prince— chest and throat. All with same custom knife! No fingerprints! No witnesses! Killer attacks when they are opening their gate at night! Same pattern!"

His sergeant said, "DPO, this killer is professional. This is not a normal armed robber. This person is trained. Knows how to throw knife from distance. Knows how to avoid CCTV."

"And the killer only targets rich men who carry raw cash at night," Brian added.

The Commissioner was furious at a press conference.

"We assure Greenville residents that we will catch this Shadow Killer! We have deployed more patrols at night!"

But inside his office, he told Brian privately, "Brian, if you don't catch this killer, I will remove you as DPO. The big men in this town are scared. They no longer go out at night. They say you are incompetent."

Brian was frustrated. His investigation was going nowhere.

He had no suspect. No face. No prints. Just a shadow.


CHAPTER 4: THE NEW NEIGHBOR

It was a Saturday morning, around 10 AM. The compound was quiet.

Brian was washing his car in front of his house, wearing a singlet and shorts. Sandra was inside with the kids, Junior and little Ada, making jollof rice. The house next to theirs had been empty for almost 8 months.

Then they heard a loud truck horn.

_PAM PAM!_

A big moving truck reversed into the compound next door. Two loaders jumped down and started offloading boxes, a plasma TV, a black leather sofa, and many suitcases.

Brian stopped washing his car and watched.

"Ah, finally! Somebody will occupy this house at last," he muttered.

Just then, a small black Toyota Corolla parked behind the truck. The door opened and a woman stepped out.

She was beautiful. Tall, light-skinned, around 29. She wore tight jean trousers and a white crop top, her hair packed in a ponytail.

She looked around, then saw Brian staring.

She smiled and walked towards him.

"Hi! Good morning," she said, her voice soft.

"Good morning," Brian said.

"I'm Roslina. I just moved in. Your new neighbor."

"Welcome to our side! I'm Brian. This is my house here."

"Thank you. Please, call me Rose. All my friends call me Rose. I hope we will be good neighbors. I'm alone, just me. I just relocated from Abuja, I do business — I import clothes."

"Ah, businesswoman! That's good. Welcome. I live here with my wife Sandra and my two kids."

"Wow, a full family man," Roslina said.

Just then, Sandra came out, wiping her hands.

"Brian, who are you talking to?"

"Oh, our new neighbor has moved in. Rose."

Sandra forced a smile. "Welcome. I'm Sandra."

"Thank you ma, you are so beautiful," Roslina said.

From that day, Roslina made herself very close.

On Sunday, she knocked with a covered plate.

"Good afternoon! I cooked too much stew, I said let me bring for you people. I don't know how to cook small quantity since I live alone."

Sandra collected it. "Thank you, Rose."

On Monday, Brian was going to work. This time he was in his police uniform — black trousers, blue shirt with DPO badge.

Roslina was coming out of her gate and saw him. Her eyes widened.

"Ah! Brian! You... you are a police officer?"

Brian laughed. "Yes. I thought you knew? I am the DPO for this division."

Roslina smiled.

"Wow! A DPO! That's impressive! So you are the one protecting the whole town! No wonder I feel safe already living next to you."

"Don't worry, you are safe with me around," Brian said and entered his car.

Their friendship became even closer.

On Tuesday evening, she came out with two bottles of malt and groundnuts.

"Brian, I'm bored. Can I sit with you? I don't have anybody in this town."

"Come sit!" Brian said, now in mufti.

They gisted. She laughed at all his jokes. She told him she was single, never married, but hopes to find a good man like him someday.

Brian felt flattered.

Sandra came out and saw them laughing together, close.

"Brian, food is ready inside," she said sharply.

Roslina whispered when Sandra went inside, "Your wife doesn't like me, abi?"

"No, don't say that. She is just tired."

By Wednesday, Roslina was entering their kitchen freely.

"Ma Sandra, let me help you cut the onions."

"Ma Sandra, let me help you bath Ada."

She bought biscuits and toys for the kids. Junior started calling her "Auntie Rose."

On Thursday night, Brian and Roslina sat outside again till 11 PM. That was when Brian told her about the case.

"You know, my work is stressful these days. There is a serial killer in town. We call her Shadow Killer. She kills rich men with knives. Very smart, leaves no trace."

Roslina getting terrified.

"Ah! Shadow Killer! I hope she will not come to our street oh! I'm so scared, Brian. Can you always check on me at night?"

"Don't worry, Rose. I will protect you people in this street. That killer will be caught soon. We found a new lead — a knife."

"Thank you, Brian. You are so brave. I'm lucky to have a DPO as my neighbor and friend."

Inside, Sandra watched them from the window, angry.

When Brian came inside, she confronted him.

"Brian, I don't like how close you are with that woman."

"Why? She is just a neighbor being friendly."

"Friendly? She is in my kitchen, playing with my children, sitting with my husband every night! She wears bum shorts and crop top to come and sit with my husband! That is friendly? I am a woman, I know when a woman wants my husband!"

"Stop that, Sandra! You are overthinking."

But from that day, Sandra stopped talking to Roslina.

Roslina still maintained her friendship with Brian. She had become Brian's closest friend. She now knew everything about his investigation, his family, his movements.

She was no longer just a neighbor. She was now part of the family.


CHAPTER 5: SANDRA'S MURDER

One afternoon, when Brian had gone to work and the kids were in school, Sandra decided to confront Roslina. She walked to Roslina's apartment and knocked.

Roslina opened the door, wearing a short bum short and a bra-top, hair loose.

"Ah, Ma Sandra! Welcome! Come inside," she smiled.

Sandra entered but didn't sit.

"Roslina, I came to talk to you woman to woman," Sandra said, her voice serious.

"Okay, ma. What is it?"

"Rose, I don't like how close you are with my husband. You are always in my house, sitting with my husband till late at night, playing with my kids. You are always bringing food. You are trying to take my place."

Roslina's smile faded a little, but she acted innocent.

"Ma Sandra, no oh! I just like your family. I am lonely here, I have no family in this town. I'm new here. Your husband is like a big brother to me."

"A big brother does not sit with you till 11 PM outside drinking beer and laughing loudly while his wife is inside. Rose, please keep away from my family. I don't like your closeness with my husband. Stay away from Brian."

There was silence.

Then Roslina smiled slowly.

"I understand, Ma Sandra. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. I will stay away. I promise. You have nothing to worry about."

"Thank you," Sandra said and left.

But as Sandra left, Roslina stood at her door watching her go. Her smile disappeared. Her eyes turned cold.

She kills rich men at night with perfect knife throws, no face, no trace. The city calls her The Shadow Killer.

The DPO hunting her doesn't know his beautiful new neighbor is the monster.

Story below!

Nairaland reading section is gone. Its dead. No readers again. Its a pity. Let me go find another site to publish my books.

Hello how u liked stoRy please

WHERE TRUE HEARTS MEET

Alex is 20 years old, beautiful, bright, and living with sickle cell disease — SS.

Because of her condition, she goes to the hospital regularly for check-ups, always with her mother, Flora. She has learned to live carefully. She dresses warmly, avoids cold, drinks only water, and takes her drugs religiously.

In that same hospital, there is a young man named Francis.

Every time he comes to the hospital, he keeps bumping into Alex. Alex was so beautiful, and from the very first time he saw her, he fell for her.

One afternoon, while he saw her again in the waiting hall, he gathered courage and walked up to her.

“Hi,” he said, smiling nervously. “I see you here almost every time I come. I’m Francis.”

Alex smiled. “I’m Alex.”

They talked. His voice was calm, his eyes were kind. Before leaving, he said, “Can we be friends? I’d really love to be your friend.”

Alex hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

She gave him her number.

That night, her phone rang. It was Francis.

“Hey, how are you? Did you get home safe? Have you eaten? Did you sleep well?”

Alex giggled. “Yes, yes, and yes. You ask too many questions.”

From then on, he called her every night. He messaged her on WhatsApp, asking how her day went. Sometimes they would just talk for hours about nothing and everything. It felt easy. It felt safe.

One evening, Flora noticed her daughter smiling at her phone.

“Who is this guy you are always chatting with?” her mother asked.

Alex blushed. “He’s just a friend I met at the hospital, Mum.”

Flora’s face became serious. “Alex, be careful of men, oh. Be very careful.”

But Alex and Francis grew closer. Their closeness grew tighter every day.

One day, Francis invited her to his house.

She came. His apartment was simple but artistic, full of paintings and brushes.

He offered her juice.

“Oh no, I don’t drink that. Only fresh water, please,” Alex said.

“I remember. You dress so covered because cold triggers your crisis, right?” he asked.

She was surprised. “You notice that?”

He looked at her deeply. “Alex, I like you. I really, really like you. And I know about you.”

Alex froze. “What do you know about me?”

Francis took her hand gently. “I know you have sickle cell. I know you are SS. And I accept you just the way you are.”

Alex pulled her hand back, shocked. “That was supposed to be confidential! How dare the doctors leak my file to you?!”

Francis quickly explained. “Please, don’t be angry. One of the doctors there happens to be my friend. I was so into you that I asked about you, why you always come there. I’m sorry I went that way. But Alex, I still love you. I want to date you.”

Alex stared at him, then slowly, a smile broke through. She hugged him.

From then on, they became official. He took her to the beach. They rode on horses and laughed like children. He took her to the museum and showed her beautiful artworks — Francis was an artist, he drew incredibly well. He even drew a portrait of her.

It was perfect.

She showed her mother the portrait.

“Mum, this is Francis. We are dating now. I really like him. He is such a good guy.”

Flora looked at the portrait, then at her daughter. “Are you sure about him? I’m just worried for you. You know you are my only daughter.”

“Yes, Mum. And another thing... he also knows I’m SS.”

“What? You told him?”

“Yes, and he accepts me totally.”

Flora was so happy for her. “Then invite him for dinner. Let me meet him.”

Alex invited Francis. He came, dressed neatly. Flora asked him questions.

“Where are you from? What do you do? Your parents?”

“My parents are late,” Francis said softly. “I am an artist. I paint and draw for a living. And I truly like Alex. I love her.”

Flora sighed. “You see, my daughter is so special. She was born SS and I have showered her with all the love and care as a parent. I don’t want her hurt. I did all I could to make sure she can live a normal life. Made her take her drugs, did research about this illness, took all the doctor’s advice. She was so ill at her young age but after doing all this, can you believe since Alex turned 16 till now she hardly falls sick again?”

Francis smiled. “Wow, that’s amazing. That’s a miracle.”

“Yes, indeed. But I still take her for routine check-up in case any sign of the illness comes back. I’m always scared for her. Please don’t hurt her, I beg you.”

“I promise you, I will never hurt your daughter.”

“What about her father?” Francis asked gently.

“We were divorced. I don’t want to talk about him,” Flora said quickly.

“It’s okay. You have been a good mother to her. You raised her up well. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Flora smiled. Alex smiled too.

Alex also told her best friend, Genny, a single mother.

“Genny, I’m dating someone. He is so nice, and he accepts me despite my condition.”

Genny hugged her. “I’m happy you found someone who won’t discriminate against you! I’m glad too.”

Everything was perfect. Until that day at the hospital.

They had gone for Alex’s routine check-up. Francis told her to wait in the waiting room.

“I want to talk to the doctor quickly,” he said.

While Alex was sitting alone, a nurse walked up to her with a smile.

“I like you two together, oh. Two special people dating. It’s so sweet.”

Alex frowned. “How do you mean two special people dating?”

The nurse said casually, “I mean you are SS and he is HIV positive. And you guys together...”

Alex froze. Her blood ran cold.

“What! He is what?!”

The nurse’s smile disappeared. “You didn’t know?”

“What?!” Alex was still in shock.

“Oh my God, I thought you knew. I’m so sorry. Please don’t tell anyone I told you or I will get fired,” the nurse pleaded. “I’m sorry, please calm down.”

Alex stood there, still shocked, while the nurse tried to calm her.

Just then, Francis came back and saw her worried face.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

“I think she is having a slight fever. Maybe you should take her home now,” the nurse quickly said.

“Are you okay, baby?” Francis asked her.

Alex couldn’t say a word. She just stared at him.

“Take me home now,” she finally whispered.

Francis was worried. He didn’t understand what was going on. In the car, he kept asking, “Alex, what is wrong? Talk to me.”

She didn’t talk.

When they got to his house, Alex got down angrily and walked inside. Francis followed.

“What is going on? Why are you suddenly behaving like this?”

“Is it true, Francis?”

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

“Is it true you are HIV positive?!”

Francis froze on hearing this.

“Tell me the truth. Don’t lie,” Alex said, looking straight into his eyes.

“That nurse told you this, right?”

“That is not my question. Give me the answer! Are you or not?! Please don’t lie.”

Francis bowed his head. “I’m sorry, baby. This was not the right time I wanted to tell you.”

“So it’s true?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes, it is.”

“Oh my God!” Alex put her hand on her head. Then she picked up her handbag and left the house. Francis tried calling her back, but she left.

Alex went home sobbing. She refused to talk for two days. She didn’t eat anything. She locked herself inside her room. Francis kept calling her phone and she wouldn’t answer.

Her mother kept pleading, “Please don’t starve yourself. You will fall sick oh. You know this isn’t good for your health. Please eat something. I don’t want to lose you.”

Alex finally broke down and told her.

“Mum, do you believe what I found out about Francis?”

“What was it?”

“Francis is HIV positive.”

“What?!” Flora screamed. “That can’t be possible! Tell me you are joking!”

“I’m not, Mum. He kept the secret away from all of us. I found out from one of the nurses in the hospital. He is HIV positive.”

“Oh my God, why didn’t he tell us all this while?!”

“I don’t know what to do now, Mummy. I just feel so hurt he hid this from me.”

Flora shook her head. “HIV and sickle cell. No, this can’t work. You need to stop seeing him now. I won’t support this type of relationship. Never!” She walked out angrily.

Alex went to see Genny.

“Genny, Francis is HIV positive.”

Genny was shocked. “Oh my God! So what do you intend to do?”

“I don’t know, Genny. I’m hurt.”

“But HIV is infectious,” Genny said. “Are you saying I should leave him?”

“I mean, it’s not healthy for you two to be with each other. Think of your kids.”

“But he accepted me. Why shouldn’t I accept him?” Alex asked.

“Because your illnesses are different. HIV is an infectious disease. Very infectious. I’m even starting to get scared of coming close to him.”

“Don’t say that, Genny.”

“I’m still thinking,” Alex said quietly. “I think you should find another guy, Alex. I mean, at least you have chances of living longer. You haven’t fallen sick for years. Find a healthy guy, not an AIDS victim that you both will be battling with illness.”

To be contd.

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