Shit. I’m trembling. “How could this happen?” I stare at Maita. “Once. We only slipped up once.”
“Have you been on the pill?”
“Never. It wasn’t recommended with my heart condition.”
“Many women who’ve never used the pill claim to fall pregnant very quickly. It’s all about timing, your egg’s susceptibility, and his sperm quality.”
“It doesn’t really matter.” I press the heels of my palms against my eyes. “It happened and I can’t change that.”
“Hey.” Maita squeezes my shoulder. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Let’s get you a cup of tea.”
I’m such a selfish bitch. There are two sick people waiting in reception and here I am acting like I’m about to faint and in need of a cup of tea.
“I’m good,” I say in a hoarse voice.
“Let me at least get you one to go.” She turns for the door. “We have some paper cups in the kitchen.”
I stop her with a hand on her arm. “Please don’t say anything to Ian. I need a little time to process this before I tell him.”
She cups my hand where it rests on her forearm. “You can rely on my discretion.”
“Thank you,” I say, weak with relief.
“Take your time to talk things through with Ian. He’s a good man. I’m sure he’ll be supportive.” She winks. “Something tells me he’ll be very happy.”
I want to believe it. I want to grab the optimism she offers, but I’m too level-headed to do that just yet.
I stand dazed in the kitchen while she makes a cup of tea and hands me the paper cup.
“Don’t hesitate to call me any time you need me,” she says as she sees me out.
I mumble another thank you. I don’t know how I got there, but the next moment, I’m on the dusty pavement in the bright morning sun with a cup of black, sweet tea in my hand. What now? I’d go out of my mind alone in the room. I need to stay busy while I process the information. Keeping busy will ground and calm me.
My decision made, I get into the Jeep, put the tea in the cup holder, and drive to the fields. The women greet me with happy waves. I look at the babies strapped in blankets to their backs. I can do this, can’t I? I’m young, but I have my feet on the ground and Ian is older with more life experience. We’ll make a good team, won’t we?
Keeya hands me a shovel. “What’s with the daydreaming?”
I fold my fingers automatically around the handle. “Huh? Oh, nothing.”
She laughs. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re in love.”
If only she knew.
One of the men who stands guard runs to the Jeep and returns with my gardening gloves and the cup of tea. “Here you go, Cas.”
“Oh, um, yes. Thanks.”
I take the cold tea, drink it without tasting anything, and fit the gloves. Setting out to work, I quickly fall into the rhythmic routine of driving the shovel into the soil. The mindless work calms me, and an hour later, I feel a lot less disoriented and frightened.
Excitement starts to surpass the uncertainty and concerns. My parents were great with me, and while I didn’t particularly plan on having kids, and definitely not so soon, I know I’ll enjoy being a mom. I can be a good mom for a little person, a brand new little soul, like my mom had been for me.
The more I think about it, the more the idea grows on me, until, when it’s time for lunch, I know for certain I can’t give this baby away. By the time I straighten over my shovel with a sore back, my biggest concern is no longer the news itself. It’s how to tell Ian.
I’m about to have a lunchbreak with the women when Danai walks up.
“Cas.”
“Danai.”
She glances around as she hands me a folded note. “I have a message for you.”
I take the piece of paper reluctantly. “What is it?”
“Read it,” she says.
I unfold the note.
Meet me at three o’clock at the Elephant Hills tea garden.
Wolfe.
PS: If you don’t show, you’re as dead as Ian Hart.
I go cold in the heat of the day. Dread fills me until my limbs are too heavy to move. Danai takes in my reaction with a smirk. The set of her chin is victorious.
“Oh, my God.” Horrified, I push the words through dry lips. “What have you done?”
She leans in, her breath fanning over my face. “Nobody rejects me.”
She ran to Wolfe because she’s jealous? She used the information Ruben stupidly shared with her against us because she’s a woman scorned. Does she understand the consequences of her action? Wolfe could have us surrounded by now. He may arrest me for being an accomplice in the gang’s crimes, but Ian will be put on trial for first-degree murder. Leon and Ruben too.
“You have no idea, do you?” I whisper as the paper trembles in my hands.
Already stalking away, she says from over her shoulder, “Don’t take me for a fool.”
Chapter 18
Cas
No, Danai knew exactly what she was doing. She wants Ian to pay for rejecting her. She wants both of us—him and me—arrested. She doesn’t care that Ruben and Leon will be collateral damage in her vengeful betrayal.
The fact that Wolfe hasn’t attacked and taken us all by force yet tells me he wants something else. Maybe he’s still hoping to get the information he wanted me to gather. That’s why he wants to meet with me. He’s hoping I’ll give him what he needs and cut a deal. There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll shoot Ian on the spot if I don’t cooperate. He’ll say it was self-defense, and knowing Ian, it will be, because Ian isn’t going to go quietly. He’ll put up a fight.
If I tell Ian, it will end in a full-blown war. Ian isn’t Nick’s killer. I don’t believe it. Now that I’ve lived with Ian and gotten to know the man behind the criminal better, I know he wouldn’t have done it. He’d kill for family, not for money. He said so himself, and from how he cares for the community living on his property, I believe that statement. I’m not going to make a cop killer out of him by playing into Danai’s hand.
I have to meet with Wolfe. I don’t have a choice. Maybe I’ll lie and say I need more time. Will he believe me? Can I put him on a false trail and convince Ian to escape? Will Ian give up the home he loves and never look back? Because if Ian goes on the run, he can never return here. Wolfe will always be on the lookout, always waiting.
Whatever the case, I only have an hour before I’m supposed to meet Wolfe. I’ll think of something. I’ll create some kind of diversion. Surely I can come up with a convincing enough lie to win Ian the time he needs to slip away. He must be on his way to the airport to fetch Shona. Is Wolfe having him followed? The idea makes me nauseous. I don’t know what I’m going to do. All I know is that Wolfe needs to be far away from here before I tell Ian or else there’ll be a bloodbath.
Making up an excuse about needing to get supplies from town, I rush back to the Jeep and drive home. I strip before I’m inside the dressing room, exchanging my shorts for a pair of jeans. The too-big size and baggy cut make the legs wide enough to hide an ankle holster. I pull open the drawer where Ian keeps the key for the gun closet. The closet is nothing short of an iron vault behind a wooden door panel in his dressing room. Since he gave me a gun, I have access to that closet. There are no more locked doors and keys between us.
Only secrets.
The silver key sits in a hidden compartment of the box in which he keeps his watches and cufflinks. A memory of Ian dressed in his pinstripe suit and white shirt at Oliver’s party flashes through my mind. The picture is so clear, it’s as if he’s standing in front of me, his handsome face smiling down at me with that odd mixture of searing heat and piercing tenderness. With his hair tied back, he’s a vision of hot male and dangerous rogue. Even dressed in an evening suit, he wears weapons in the form of stylish cufflinks. The picture cuts into my heart. I can’t bear the thought that anything should happen to him. I love him too much.
M
y smile is tremulous, a precious memory of a past moment infected with fear for his future, as I trace a finger over the black onyx stone set in the platinum square. Ian showed them to me after the party and demonstrated how they work. Lifting the cufflink from the box, I caress the edges. When I press down gently on the stone, a sharp spike releases. I hold it up to the light. It’s thick like a wool needle and a quarter of the length of one. A stab to a jugular vein will be fatal. The beautiful piece of jewelry is a personification of the man I love—gorgeous and deadly.
Another image flashes through my mind, but this time, it’s not Ian’s dress shirt cuff adorned with a dangerous, beautiful weapon. It’s the photo of the bank robbers and the cuff of the killer aiming a shotgun.
The killer wore cufflinks.
My heart is already unstable from the stress, but my pulse spikes further. Dropping everything, I grab my bag where I threw it on the bench and shake the contents out on the floor until I find the folded printout. I drag in laboring breaths as I iron it out once more and study the picture. The man in the front with the shotgun has the weapon aimed in front of him. With his arms lifted, his overall sleeve has pulled back, revealing the cuff of his shirt and the cufflink.
My heart slams to a standstill. My body turns cold. I’ve seen those silver cufflinks with the crossed pistols logo and SIU initials. I see it now, in my mind’s eye, as I face the man in an office smelling of stale apples with a sad-looking potted plant.
Detective Wolfe.
My brain registers the fact even as I battle to believe it. I had no doubt Wolfe was determined to nail Ian, but I never could’ve guessed how far he was willing to go. An acute pain tightens my ribcage.
Giving myself a mental shake, I jump back into action. My hands tremble as I pack everything on the floor back into my bag. I do what I came here to do, unlock the safe and get my gun. I fit my ankle holster and pistol. When I’m done, I take my pills. It’s too early, but my heart is battling to provide my body’s demands as emotions and knowledge convert into physical stress. In case Ian comes back to the room first, I scribble a note on a piece of paper, telling him I’m going to town for supplies, and leave it on his pillow.
By the time I’m driving to the main building, the pills kick in and my heartbeat calms a fraction. It becomes easier to breathe, to think.
At the lodge, I go straight to the office and boot up the laptop. It’s protected with a password. I turn over the desk pad and look for sticky notes, but there’s nothing.
Frantic, I go outside. Leon and Ruben are nowhere to be seen. The only person around is Garai, who is fixing a bird feeder to a tree out front.
“I need to use the computer,” I say while I’m still a distance away.
He looks up in surprise. “Cas.”
“Do you know the password?”
He frowns. “Let me call Ian.”
“No,” I say quickly. “I didn’t call him because he can’t know.”
He drops his arms, letting the feeder dangle on one string from the branch. Caution sharpens his features.
“Ian trusts me,” I say. “I need you to trust me too. Please.”
“What’s going on, Cas?”
“You can check what I’m doing. I just want to look up something.” I make an effort to sound calmer. “I’m not going to bother Ian while he’s on his way to the airport.”
He gives me a pained look. “You know I can’t deny you after what you did for Banga. Just don’t put me in a difficult position with Ian.”
“I won’t.” I force a smile. “I promise.”
“Okay.” He nods, not looking certain, but walks toward me.
I utter a sigh of relief. Leading the way back to the office, I wait for him to type in the password. When the computer comes to life, he steps aside to give me access, but he doesn’t leave.
I type SIU and logo with pistols into the search field of the browser. The logo with the crossed pistols comes up. I click on the link. The logo is new. It has been designed during a reform in the South African Police Service three years ago and belongs to an elite team within the Special Task Force. The Special Investigations Unit has eighteen members country-wide. I type cufflink in the search bar and suck in a quiet breath when a special recognition page link appears.
Shooting a glance over my shoulder at Garai who watches quietly, I open the page. Only three pairs of cufflinks have been awarded to detectives for outstanding achievement. I click on their names. A page with accolades and photographs opens. The first is a stocky man of short build who’s retired. The second is a thin, lanky man who’s been transferred to the forensics department. The third is Detective Jim Wolfe.
My fingers tremble on the keyboard. I don’t enlarge the picture, worried that Garai will tell Ian about my search. I definitely don’t want him to mention Wolfe’s name. Instead, I close all the windows and delete my browser history.
“What’s this all about?” Garai asks, swiping a hand toward the screen.
“I was just curious about something.” When his frown deepens, I say, “Something I read.” I grab the key for the Jeep from the desk. “Thanks for your help.”
His troubled gaze follows me to the photo copier in the corner.
“You don’t mind, do you?” I say as I position the crumpled photo of the men who killed Nick and press the button to make a copy, taking care to block the feed tray with my body.
“Of course not. What’s Ian’s is yours. This is your home now. You know that, right?”
I grab the original and copy and fold both before turning back to him. “Um, yes.”
“You’re wanted here, Cas. You’re needed and loved.” He stresses loved. “I want to make sure you understand that.”
I wipe a strand of hair behind my ear. “I do. Thank you.”
“Ian hasn’t loved anyone, at least not a woman. Leon, yes, but you’re different.”
Uncomfortably, I say, “Okay.”
He eyes the key in my hand as I move to the door. “You’re not going to risk everything by doing something foolish, are you?”
“I’m not going to run away. I promise. I’m going to town for supplies. Shona wasn’t here to take care of stocking the kitchen, and I don’t want her to have to worry about the empty shelves when she gets back. I’ll be home soon. If Ian gets back before me, tell him I won’t be long.”
“All right,” he says, still giving me the same, uncertain look, but he doesn’t stop me, not since Ian is letting me drive around alone and armed, and especially not since what happened with Banga.
I hop into the Jeep and head toward the gates. A distance away, I pull off on the side of the road and scan the area for animals. When I see nothing, I get out. To be sure, I check the ground for footprints. There are elephant prints in the dust, but they’re old. They’ve passed by at least a week ago. I’m a good tracker. My dad taught me how to read spoor.
Certain there’s no danger, I grab the rifle from the back and trudge a short distance into the veld. Red Mahogany trees line the road. It doesn’t take long to find one with a hollow in the trunk. It’s not a nest made by a woodpecker or a squirrel. It’s a natural deformity.
After checking that the wood isn’t infested with termites or ants, I look for something in my bag in which I can seal the printout, and decide on the plastic packet of my tissues. I throw out the tissues, put the printout inside the packet, and roll it up carefully. I place the packet in the hollow and find a rock that fits in the hole to prevent the packet from blowing away or dropping out.
It’s not the most secure hiding place, but it’s the best I can do. I check my watch. I have twenty minutes left. The sight of the Rolex momentarily jars me, but I shake off the sentimentality, get back into the Jeep, and continue toward the gates.
Thankfully, the guards don’t stop me. I drive through with a wave and step on the gas when I hit the tar road.
My heart beats in my throat when I turn into town. A minivan follows not far behind me. It’s been on my tail f
or the last ten minutes, but there are many lodges and B&Bs scattered along the river on only one road. It could just be someone from one of the other tourist accommodations.
The van follows me into the Elephant Hills parking lot. I cut the engine and wait. The man who gets out of the van wears a safari suit and Grasshopper shoes. Whistling, he strolls past the Jeep without as much as a glance in my direction.
I blow out a shaky breath. He’s probably just here to pick up tourists having tea after visiting the falls.
Outwardly, I school my features. Inwardly, I’m shaking as I make my way to the entrance. I keep vigilant but see no one suspicious hanging around the lot.
Two men in casual clothes stand in the lobby, pretending to be reading brochures, but their focus is trained on me as I cross the floor and make my way to the terrace.
The terrace isn’t busy. Only three tables are occupied. I spot Wolfe immediately. He sits at the table in the corner closest to the rail, facing the falls.
I quickly scan the other tables. The man studying a menu two tables away from Wolfe is definitely a detective. Like the men in the lobby, he’s dressed in casual clothes, but a gun holster peeks out from under his jacket. A young couple are having drinks at the table on the opposite end of the terrace, and the man who drove the minivan is leaning with his arms on the rail, staring at the water. He’s fitted a pair of Ray-Bans. I’m certain now he’s a driver waiting for a group of tourists. He has that look.
Wolfe gets to his feet when I walk over. He waits until I’m seated before he sits. Scrutinizing me, he says, “You surprise me, Miss Joubert. I didn’t think you’d come. Then again, you also surprised me with the stunt you pulled with the bracelet.”
A waiter stops next to our table.
“Drink?” Wolfe asks.
Stolen Life Page 19
