Sacrificed

by Chanette Paul

  It was obvious that Grevers didn’t know who Caz was visiting. “I have relatives here. I’ll be calling on them in a while.” Luc deliberately kept it vague.

  When the juice was placed in front of Grevers, he drank thirstily. It had to be a helluva job just waiting for someone to move. Hour after hour.

  “The changed orders. Is Caz—Cassandra—no longer a suspect?” Luc asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that. The commissioner is especially worried about ...” Grevers seemed to have second thoughts. “Well, about a certain document.”

  “Still?” Not that he had any idea what document the man was talking about, but maybe Grevers would fall for it.

  “Then you know Cassandra Colijn is the sole beneficiary of Tieneke Colijn’s will?” Grevers fell for it.

  Luc smiled. It seemed to be enough.

  “Max—Commissioner De Brabander—finds it dodgy that the will was made the morning before she died.”

  Luc tried to keep his expression neutral.

  “Tieneke Colijn might not have been exceptionally wealthy, but she was well-off. Well-off enough to give someone like Cassandra Colijn motive to have her murdered by hitmen as soon as the will had been changed.

  “But it seems Max isn’t quite as convinced of her involvement any more. Personally I think he’s making a mistake. Why would two criminals kill someone without stealing anything? Tieneke Colijn wasn’t raped, so there was no sexual motive.” Grevers finished his juice with one last gulp and began to rummage in his pockets.

  Luc shook his head. “Don’t worry. It’s on me.”

  “Nice of you. Now I definitely have to heed the call of nature. I might see you again.” Grevers rushed off in the direction of the restrooms.

  Luc hardly noticed. If he had turned ice cold a moment before, he was now virtually frozen.

  De Brabander’s anxiety made terrifying sense. When she found out she had been deceived all her life, Caz came to Belgium for revenge. She had two African men who would help her. Caz discovered that her foster sister had financial means and convinced Tieneke to change her will in her favor before she had her taken out. But that wasn’t where it ended. She found out Ammie had paid with diamonds to have her raised by strangers. Was that why she began the frantic search for Ammie? Was she hoping Ammie would acknowledge her as her biological daughter so that she would be first in line for an inheritance she hoped might also have everything to do with diamonds?

  Luc closed his eyes. If it was true, Caz Colijn was the biggest opportunist he had ever come across. One who could think on her feet.

  He might be hung up on thrillers, perhaps even paranoid, but the scenario he had sketched for himself certainly wasn’t impossible.

  Caz

  Leuven

  Lieve had brought coffee three times before Ammie’s story dried up.

  Caz doubted whether Ammie had told her everything simply because she had asked. For long moments Ammie had sat talking with her eyes closed, as if she was reliving the events. She spoke about her first meeting with Elijah and how they ended up in a relationship. The son born from that relationship. How Elijah was murdered. How Tabia saved her and how she and Tabia’s nephew fled, ending up first in Nylstroom, then in Pretoria. Caz realized that during those moments Ammie had completely forgotten about her.

  “So you see, Cassandra, I had no other choice but to leave you behind.”

  Caz looked at her, thinking about everything she had heard. “What I see is that I was like the canary in the coalmine. The child who was sacrificed so that you could survive.”

  Ammie gave a bitter laugh. “Have you thought of the possibility that I sacrificed you so César wouldn’t find you? That I might have had your safety in mind?”

  “No, Mrs. Pauwels, I don’t think that’s what you had in mind. You might have consoled yourself with that thought later, but that’s all. You feared César, you knew he wouldn’t stop searching for you. You admit the diamonds you bribed Fien with were stolen from him. Someone like him would not have forgiven you for that. And you would have been able to bring him to justice—he tried to kill you after all. Had your death certificate issued. And of course fleeing with a child is harder than without one. Especially if you’re using an assumed name.

  “I was the sacrificial lamb so that you could escape César’s vengeance. You didn’t care what would happen to me. You knew what Fien was like, yet you chose to leave me in the care of a woman who was so greedy that she was prepared to raise someone else’s child—a child she didn’t want—in exchange for money.”

  For a moment Caz saw something in Ammie’s eyes, but she couldn’t make out what it was. She knew it wasn’t regret.

  “You must remember, Cassandra, that I wasn’t accountable for my deeds at the time. I was an emotional wreck. Sick in body and soul.”

  Caz shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pauwels, but actions speak louder than words. One’s integrity is revealed by the way one acts under pressure. You put your child on the altar in order to shake off your old life and make a fresh start. From the word go you couldn’t face raising me yourself. That was why you convinced yourself I was César’s child. To ease your conscience.”

  There was steel in Ammie’s expression again. “The evidence was there. The frizzy blonde hair, the lily-white skin. I was terrified, yes, I did fear for my life, but I was especially afraid of a child who is the product of a man who was a monster and a woman who had forgotten what a conscience was. Because that I was, I don’t deny it. Yes, Cassandra, I was afraid of you. I didn’t want to see either César or myself reflected in you, not to mention a combination of the two of us. Are you satisfied now?”

  “Satisfied? Satisfied to hear that in your eyes I could be nothing but an abomination? But I’m not, you know. I’m a person with integrity and good values. Perfect? Anything but. But I did everything in my power to be the best possible mother to my child. And believe me, it wasn’t learned behavior. The woman you left me with didn’t know what love or compassion was. I had no example of what it means to be a good mother. Only instinct.

  “Where it came from I don’t know, because it was evidently not genetic. But something inside me knew the right, the honorable way. I had options when my unusual child was born. Even though we ...”

  “Unusual?”

  Caz hardly noticed she had been interrupted. “My husband and parents-in-law might have rejected my child and me but my father-in-law was a decent man in his way. He undertook to make certain that my daughter was adopted by good people. I believe he would have kept his word, but my moral compass told me it wouldn’t be the honorable thing to do and my natural maternal instincts made me fight for my child.

  “Psychopaths have no conscience. What one calls someone without the most basic maternal instincts I can’t say. I only know you answer to that description, if there is one.”

  Ammie snorted. “If that’s the case, you should absolve me. Then it wasn’t a conscious decision but a pathological condition. But you’re wrong. My love for my first child was instantaneous. There was nothing harder than letting him go, but I had to. For his own sake and for Elijah’s. It was the greatest sacrifice of my life.”

  “So you were experienced in the art of abandoning children by the time I was born.”

  “Desensitized, perhaps.”

  “How did you know your first child was Elijah’s?”

  “Kembo was brown. A deep toffee brown.”

  Caz gasped for breath. “Elijah was black?”

  “Not quite. His father was Belgian, his mother was born from a relationship between a Somali woman and a Belgian man, but he had a reasonably dark complexion, yes. That was why his father had left him at the mission station as a child. His mother, brothers and sisters had sallow complexions, at most. His dark skin was an embarrassment to the family.”

  Caz began to laugh. It was a laugh born fr
om a deep ache. About the irony of life. About the jester’s hand that dealt the cards.

  “How would you feel if I told you my daughter, your granddaughter, is a different kind of brown from your son, Kembo. The color of molasses. With silvery-blue eyes. A lot like yours and mine, except that hers are ringed with gold.”

  Ammie turned pale. She remained silent for a long time before she shook her head. “That doesn’t mean anything. César’s mother was a woman of loose morals. She died of syphilis before I met him. Of course I only found out long after the wedding. Nonetheless. He was quite sallow himself. His hair a bit frizzy.” She gave a small, triumphant smile. “He also had brown flecks in his clear blue eyes.”

  Just like you. Ammie didn’t say it, but the unspoken words hung in the air.

  Caz knew it was checkmate. If she could believe Ammie. She got to her feet. “Only one more question, Mrs. Pauwels. If César was possibly of mixed race, how certain are you that Kembo wasn’t César’s child?”

  Ammie gazed at her.

  “Think carefully about how certain you can be that I am not Elijah’s daughter. Especially now that you know your granddaughter is black. Thanks for your time and the enlightening conversation. Please don’t get up. I’m sure Lieve will show me out.”

  Caz had progressed a few steps when Ammie laughed. She turned to look at her.

  “At least there’s no doubt that you’re my daughter. You’re every bit as ruthless and coldblooded as I am.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You think wrong. You’ve just proved it. You want me to have doubts. You want me to wonder for the rest of my days whether I had made a mistake. To question everything that happened in the past fifty-three years and wonder what it would have been like if I had accepted you as Elijah’s child and raised you myself.” Ammie shook her head. “It’s cruel, Cassandra Janssen. It’s terribly cruel.”

  “I am not a Janssen. Evidently not a Colijn either, but definitely not a Janssen. I know it in my core. And God knows, if I ever get the chance, I’m going to prove it.” Caz hesitated a fraction of a second. She knew she was exposing herself to hurt, but pressed on. “You’ve been watching me for two, three hours. Is there really nothing that reminds you of Elijah?”

  Ammie shook her head. “Nothing. Not a single feature or mannerism.” Everything about her spoke of conviction.

  Caz couldn’t help but believe her.

  The eyes that had seen so many things in eighty-two years closed. The head leaned more heavily against the backrest. “Go now. I’m exhausted.”

  Caz was at the door when Ammie spoke again.

  “Bring your daughter. Arrange it with Luc.”

  Caz turned, surprised. Ammie’s eyes were still closed and she was breathing deeply and evenly. Had she talked in her sleep? Or had she meant it?

  Luc

  Leuven

  Luc had just paid for his lengthy lunch and was wondering what to do next when his phone rang.

  Lieve.

  He hastened to answer. “Lieve?”

  “Miss Colijn has just left, Professor.”

  “Is Mother Ammie okay?” His throat contracted. “Should I come? I’m close.”

  “Miss Ammie fell asleep in her chair. She looks quite calm. There wouldn’t be any point if you came.”

  “Did it go well?”

  “I can’t really say. I wasn’t allowed to be present. The few times I took in coffee and refreshments I couldn’t gather much. They stopped talking as soon as I entered.”

  “But you could sense how it was going?” He tried to curb his impatience.

  “Well, it’s very clear they didn’t hit it off, Professor. I don’t think there’s any question of reconciliation between mother and daughter. Like two boxers in a ring, that’s how they were.”

  Luc sighed. He supposed one couldn’t really expect a happy ending. Yet he had secretly hoped there would at least be some compassion on Ammie’s part. Forgiveness on Caz’s. He was such an idealist.

  In the past hour or so he had managed to control his dismay at Grevers’s news and the panic it had roused. He was still not at ease, but he conceded that he might have overreacted.

  “There’s something I find strange, Professor,” Lieve’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “Yes?”

  “Miss Ammie. She was lucid and remained so all afternoon. Despite her recent stroke. Despite the veils that have dropped down so often in the past two years. It’s as if she used every grain of determination and strength to keep up this conversation. She was like her much younger self until she fell asleep.”

  “Can you stay until she wakes?”

  “I’ll stay. But she mustn’t sleep too long, or she’ll have a hard time tonight. And she must eat something. They hardly touched the cake I served. Wouldn’t hear of having lunch either. I must see to it that she takes her medication too.”

  “Thanks, Lieve. I’m sorry to ask this on a Sunday but I’ll pay you overtime, of course.”

  “Don’t worry, Professor. Miss Ammie pays me well and she doesn’t mind paying overtime. I’ll call if there’s a problem. Otherwise I’ll let you know how she is tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Lieve. Mother Ammie can thank her lucky stars for you.”

  “I’m just grateful you’re back in her life, Professor. I don’t think I know a lonelier person. She desperately needs someone who cares about her.”

  Better late than never, he thought, but he drove back to Damme filled with self-reproach.

  Erevu

  Ghent

  He profited from his self-appointed silence in more ways than one. He now saw things more clearly. What he saw very clearly was that Dove couldn’t have devised the act of treachery by himself.

  Jela must have instructed him. He should have guessed it when Dove suddenly became so efficient at covering tracks. The tablets, cellphones. No numbers on the new phones. He bet the number Dove gave him to memorize was false. The details of the bank in Pretoria as well. He bet if he phoned Jela, he would get no reply.

  There was only one way the mvet that De Brabander had rubbed under his nose could have “stayed behind” in their lodgings. He had kept a lookout the morning after the woman’s death while Dove loaded the car before they left for his hideout.

  Dove must have left it behind deliberately. With the full knowledge that the Caz woman would recognize it after Leuven.

  By the time they left there, Dove had already decided to make his grandfather the scapegoat for the stupid thing he himself had done the day before. To think he had bent over backwards to save Dove, only to be betrayed by the boy.

  Dove had only told him about the contents of the envelope because he needed help to get the key. When his grandfather failed, Dove cast him aside.

  If the Caz woman had drowned in the Dijle, Dove would have fallen flat on his face, but apparently she was alive and kicking and surely still in possession of the key.

  Erevu realized his fate would still have been sealed even if he had got the key. Right from the start, the plan had been for him to take the fall. He can guess why. It was because Jela’s dream differed from his own.

  Never again would he underestimate the treachery committed by one’s own blood.

  Thirty-five

  Monday, October 6

  Caz

  Ghent

  Caz could kick herself. That was what one got from tempers and arguments. She and Ammie Pauwels had been so intent on crossing swords that she had never asked Ammie about the contents of the strongbox. How the hell could she have forgotten?

  Three questions were all she had to ask. Who is my father, what is in the strongbox and who is Erevu Matari? And she’d forgotten two of them.

  Why couldn’t she have forgotten the question about her father instead?

  She was the daughter of a murderer. M
urder was in her genes. That was Ammie’s firm belief and that was why she wished Caz had never been born. Great! Exactly the kind of thing you expected to hear when you went in search of your roots.

  Yesterday she was too upset to do much of anything. Grevers drove her home in silence. She held herself together until she got back before she succumbed to tears.

  Afterwards she had felt like a zombie. Today she looked like one. Last night she didn’t sleep more than an hour at a stretch. When she did doze off, she was tormented by nightmares.

  The only thing that kept her going was the prospect of seeing Lilah in two days’ time, but before that happened she still had to attend Tieneke’s funeral.

  Today she would pull herself together. Decide whether she wanted to contact Luc DeReu about Ammie Pauwels’s request or wait until Lilah arrived. If Ammie had really meant it, of course, and if Lilah was prepared to meet her grandmother. God save her poor child from a grandmother like that.

  Luc

  Ghent

  Lieve’s call caught him between lectures. Luc sat down on a bench under a tree.

  “How is she, Lieve?”

  “She looks rested. Physically, anyway. But I can see she’s worried about something. She stares into the distance for long lapses of time. But she’s lucid.” Lieve gave a nervous laugh. “She asked what I thought of Miss Colijn. What could I say? I said she’s an attractive woman, that she resembles Miss Ammie. Well educated, as far as I could see. ‘She’s a hellcat, but at least she’s strong,’ was all she said but she looked ... I don’t really know ... almost satisfied.”

  Hellcat. Strong. What exactly did Ammie mean by that?

  He stayed seated after he had ended the call. It was good to hear that Ammie looked rested. He certainly couldn’t say the same of himself. The information about the will preyed on his mind. As did his paranoia.

  Ammie was now far more involved than before. Caz knew where she lived. The only thing that set his mind at rest was that Grevers was watching her. But it was cold comfort. It wouldn’t take much for someone like Caz to pull the wool over Grevers’s eyes.