The morning light cut through the haze of the city as Lamine parked his car outside their office. Aïssata was waiting inside, pacing back and forth with a furrowed brow. As soon as he entered, she held up a small, weathered package wrapped in brown paper.
"This arrived today. No return address," Aïssata said, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of unease.
Lamine frowned, taking the package from her hands. The weight of it was light, but the mystery it held made it feel heavier. He tore open the wrapping and pulled out a faded photograph. It depicted a woman standing in front of an old, wooden house. Her face was shadowed, but the shape of her features-especially the eyes-was unmistakably familiar.
"It's her," Aïssata breathed, leaning closer. "your mother."
Lamine's pulse quickened. They had spent months chasing shadows, trying to uncover the truth about their past, and now, this-proof that someone knew more than they did. Alongside the photograph was a note, scrawled in hurried, uneven handwriting: "She knew everything. Find her."
"Who sent this?" Lamine muttered, flipping the photo to see if there was any other clue. Nothing but the old, crumbling edges. "And what do they mean by 'she knew everything'?"
Aïssata's eyes hardened with determination. "There's only one way to find out. We need to track down where this picture was taken."
---
The town from the photograph lay on the outskirts of their home state, a place so small that it barely registered on a map. After a few hours on the road, they arrived at a quiet village nestled between rolling hills and dense forests. Lamine and Aïssata parked near a general store and showed the photograph to the locals, hoping for a lead.
"Ah, that house," an elderly woman said, peering at the image through thick glasses. "It used to belong to Mame Diarra, a historian. She kept to herself mostly, always digging up stories from the past. Haven't seen her in years, though."
"What happened to her?" Aïssata asked.
The woman shrugged, her face turning grim. "One day, some men came looking for her. After that, she vanished. Some say she's dead. Others think she ran. But I wouldn't poke around if I were you-bad things tend to follow those who dig too deep around here."
As they walked away, Aïssata's expression was tense. "It's like every step closer we get, something or someone is ready to block our way."
Lamine squeezed her shoulder. "We're not turning back now."
---
They tracked down the address of Mame Diarra's house, now abandoned and overgrown with weeds. Inside, dust-coated shelves and broken furniture told of a life abruptly left behind. Among the clutter, Lamine spotted a small leather-bound notebook tucked beneath a pile of newspapers.
Opening it, he found pages filled with meticulous notes about families, adoptions, and a string of cryptic entries. One page caught his attention, marked with bold red ink: "Saliou Kebe-knows too much, but he's scared. Helped make people disappear."
"Who's Saliou Kebe?" Aïssata wondered aloud, skimming through the notes. "And why does this sound like he's connected to everything we've been searching for?"
"He might have the answers about your mother, or why she disappeared," Lamine said. He checked the last address listed next to Saliou's name. "It's not far from here."
---
They found Saliou's home on the edge of a rundown neighborhood. The man who opened the door was a shadow of a person, his eyes darting nervously around before letting them inside. He barely looked at them as he spoke, his voice rough from years of silence.
"I knew Mame Diarra. She kept records. Too many records," he said, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. "She found out about the kids-those like you. Kids taken, hidden away. I helped with some of it. I didn't know what I was getting into back then."
Lamine's heart pounded. "What happened to our mother? What do you know?"
Before Saliou could respond, the door to his small house burst open. Masked figures stormed inside, guns raised. Lamine pulled Aïssata down, shielding her as bullets tore through the walls. Saliou scrambled to a hidden exit behind a cupboard and gestured frantically for them to follow.
They ran into the back alley, but a stray bullet caught Saliou in the side. He collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air, his hands stained red.
"They'll never let you find out," he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper. "There are more... more of them. And they know you're getting close."
With that, Saliou's eyes went glassy, and the life drained out of him. Aïssata knelt beside him, closing his eyes, while Lamine scanned the alley for any sign of their attackers. They had vanished as quickly as they came.
---
Back in their car, Aïssata clutched the notebook, her fingers gripping the leather cover so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "Whoever sent us that package... were they leading us into a trap?" she asked, her voice shaking with anger.
Lamine's jaw clenched. "Maybe. But it means we're getting close to something they don't want us to find."
He stared out the window, eyes dark with determination. The memories of their mother, the lies, and the violence that had surrounded them all their lives rushed through his mind. Aïssata reached over, taking his hand, her grip strong and unwavering.
"We face them together," she said. "And we make them pay for everything they've done."
Lamine nodded, feeling a fierce resolve solidify inside him. He knew now that this journey wasn't just about finding answers-it was about confronting the shadows that had haunted them for so long. As they drove off into the deepening night, Lamine made a silent promise to himself: they would not be victims any longer. This time, they would be the ones to unravel the truth, no matter who stood in their way.
YOU ARE READING
The Struggles of Lamine
Mystery / ThrillerThe book is basically about a boy, born into this cruel world and abandoned but tries to find his roots and later finds his way to the top and also finds happiness along the line
