The smoke still lingered in the air, curling around the ruins of the Komfort Lounge like a ghostly shroud. Detective Ayo Daramola crouched beside the trembling woman, her tears leaving streaks on her soot-covered face. His own breathing was labored, and his ears still rang from the explosion. He scanned the wreckage, his mind racing. The Ribbon Reaper had turned his first real lead into another dead end, but this time, there was a survivor.
"Are you hurt?" Ayo asked, his voice steady despite the chaos. The woman shook her head, her lips trembling too much to form words. She clutched at his arm as if letting go would send her spiraling into the abyss.
The wail of approaching sirens cut through the night, growing louder with each passing second. Ayo helped the woman to her feet, guiding her away from the smoldering remains of the building. They reached his car just as emergency responders began to swarm the scene.
"Stay here," he instructed, placing her gently in the passenger seat. "I'll be right back."
She grabbed his wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. "Don't leave me alone," she whispered, her voice raw with fear.
Ayo hesitated, then nodded. He leaned against the car, pulling out his phone to call his partner, Sergeant Bimpe Olawale.
"Bimpe, I've got a survivor," he said as soon as she picked up. "Female, mid-twenties. She's shaken but unharmed. I need you to meet me at the station."
"Survivor?" Bimpe's voice sharpened with interest. "From the Reaper?"
"Yes," Ayo confirmed. "And we need to move fast. He's escalating."
Back at the station, the atmosphere was tense. The survivor, now wrapped in a blanket, sat in an interview room sipping water. Ayo and Bimpe stood just outside, watching through the one-way glass.
"She's terrified," Bimpe observed. "Who wouldn't be? The Reaper rarely leaves anyone alive."
"That's what bothers me," Ayo said. "Why her? Why now?"
They entered the room together, their movements calm and deliberate. The woman looked up, her eyes wide and bloodshot.
"I'm Detective Daramola, and this is Sergeant Olawale," Ayo began, his tone measured. "Can you tell us your name?"
"Amara," she said after a long pause. "Amara Okeke."
"Amara," Bimpe said softly, pulling up a chair. "We're here to help. Can you tell us what happened?"
Amara's hands tightened around the cup. "I was walking home from work when a man grabbed me. He wore a mask… dragged me into a van. I tried to fight, but he… he was too strong."
"Did you see anything? A tattoo, a scar, anything that might identify him?" Ayo pressed.
She shook her head. "No. He tied me up, blindfolded me. I don't even know how long we drove."
"And the room?" Bimpe asked. "The one in the video?"
Amara's breath hitched. "It smelled like… chemicals. Bleach, maybe. The walls were concrete, and I could hear water dripping somewhere. He didn't say much, but when he did, his voice was… flat. Emotionless."
Ayo leaned forward. "What did he say?"
Amara's hands trembled. "He said I was lucky. That he needed me alive for now. I don't know why."
Hours later, Ayo sat in his office, staring at the evidence board. The faces of the Reaper's victims stared back at him, their expressions frozen in time. Amara's survival was a breakthrough, but it also raised more questions. Why had the killer spared her? And why had he taken such a calculated risk with the explosion?
Bimpe entered, holding a folder. "Preliminary forensics from the bar," she said, dropping it on his desk. "The bomb was crude but effective. Remote-detonated. Whoever did this knows how to stay one step ahead."
Ayo flipped through the report. "And the phone?"
"Clean," Bimpe said with a sigh. "No prints, no metadata. It's like he knew exactly how to cover his tracks."
Ayo's jaw tightened. "He's toying with us. Every move is calculated to keep us guessing."
Bimpe leaned against the desk. "We need to profile him. Someone who's this meticulous has to have a pattern, a reason."
Ayo nodded, his mind already racing. The Ribbon Reaper wasn't just a killer; he was a strategist. And if they were going to catch him, they'd need to think like him.
Later that night, Ayo returned home, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. The city's lights glittered outside his window, a stark contrast to the darkness creeping into his mind. He poured himself a glass of water and sat at the kitchen table, replaying Amara's testimony in his head.
The Reaper's voice. Flat. Emotionless.
Ayo's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. He tensed, his hand instinctively moving toward the gun on the counter. He approached the door cautiously, peering through the peephole.
No one was there.
Ayo opened the door slowly, his weapon drawn. On the ground lay another envelope, identical to the one he'd received before. His heart sank as he picked it up, the weight of dread settling in his chest.
Back inside, he opened the envelope with trembling hands. The message was shorter this time:
"SHE ISN'T THE ONLY ONE."
Ayo's pulse quickened. He grabbed his phone and dialed Bimpe.
"We've got a problem," he said as soon as she answered. "The Reaper isn't done."
The next day, Ayo and Bimpe worked tirelessly, chasing leads and poring over old case files. They mapped out every known detail about the Reaper, searching for patterns. By evening, they had a breakthrough.
"All the victims lived within a five-mile radius of each other," Bimpe said, pointing at the map. "And all were last seen at night, walking home alone."
"He's hunting in his comfort zone," Ayo said. "But why? What connects them?"
Bimpe tapped her pen against her notebook. "What if it's not about them? What if it's about the locations?"
Ayo's eyes narrowed. "Let's pull property records. Maybe there's something we've missed."
As they delved into the data, a pattern emerged. Each location where a victim was found had ties to a defunct chemical company, one that had gone bankrupt years ago. The company's name sent a chill down Ayo's spine.
Red Ribbon Industries.
"It's not just a signature," Ayo said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's a message."
Bimpe's eyes widened. "We need to find out who owns this company."
By midnight, they had a name: Obinna Adigwe. A former chemical engineer turned recluse after the company's collapse. His last known address was a dilapidated mansion on the outskirts of Lagos, surrounded by acres of overgrown land.
"This has to be it," Ayo said as they prepared to leave. "If we're lucky, we'll catch him off guard."
Bimpe nodded, checking her weapon. "Let's end this."
As they drove through the darkened streets, a sense of foreboding settled over them. The hunt for the Ribbon Reaper was nearing its climax, but Ayo couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap.
The mansion loomed ahead, its windows like empty eyes staring into the night. Ayo and Bimpe exchanged a glance, their resolve steeling.
"Ready?" Ayo asked.
Bimpe smirked. "Always."
They stepped into the shadows, the echoes of the Reaper's taunts guiding them toward the unknown.