Aofa dropped her hands. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I did not mean to imply you could not take care of him.”
Aofa spent almost every day with Noel for hours at a time. Of course she’d grown attached to him. Dahlia calmed down. “And I didn’t mean to snap. We’ll be fine. If I need your help, I’ll send someone to get you.”
“All right. I have an herbal tea that might help him feel better. It’s in the pantry on the third shelf in a glass jar. It’s good for nausea and will help him sleep.”
“Thank you.”
She left the party with Noel in her arms, and a guard drove her to one of the back doors of the palace on a golf cart. Because of the new security rules, the guard stayed with her as she walked through the first floor and joined her in the elevator.
She rubbed Noel’s back, and he moaned softly.
“Are you in pain?”
He didn’t reply. They’d eaten a heavy lunch earlier. Maybe he was allergic to something the cook served.
“Does your tummy hurt?”
“Yes,” he answered, sounding pitiful.
“I’m going to try to make you feel better, okay?”
He nodded and placed his head on her shoulder.
She pressed her thumb to the biometric pad that gave entrance into the part of the east wing where they lived. The door opened silently and she walked down the hall with the guard following behind.
Dahlia stopped, the hairs on the back of her neck rising.
The guard, a stocky man of medium height, stopped, too. “Is there something wrong, Your Highness?”
“I...” Dahlia sensed something, but what? The hall and the alcoves were empty. “Hello? Is somebody here?”
The guard turned in a full circle and then walked a few steps away, peering from one end of the passageway to the next. “Hello?” he called, his voice ricocheting off the walls.
She shook off the jitters. “Ignore me. It’s probably my imagination.”
She continued to her and Kofi’s living quarters and pressed her thumb to another biometric panel, which let her into their private residence. Before closing the door, she smiled at the guard. “You can go back to the party. I’m staying in for the rest of the evening.”
He bowed and went back the way they came.
Dahlia placed Noel on her bed and covered him with the blanket. She checked for a fever, but he wasn’t hot, which was at least a good sign. He wasn’t fighting an infection.
She would make him the tea Aofa suggested since the older woman knew a lot about herbal remedies.
“I’m going to the kitchen to make some tea for you. I’ll be right back, okay?” She didn’t want to leave him alone, but she’d only be gone a few minutes.
“Mommy, wiggle worm.”
“Oh, of course.” Dahlia picked up the toy from a chair across the room and handed it to him. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be back with something nice and warm to make your tummy feel better, okay?” She rubbed his belly.
“Okay,” Noel said in a faint voice. If he didn’t feel better within an hour after drinking the tea, she’d call a doctor.
Dahlia exited the bedroom, leaving the door open in case he called out to her while she was gone. Just like Aofa said, she found the jar of herbs on the third shelf in the pantry. She set the kettle to warm, and minutes later mixed a little honey in the hot water and dropped a mesh bag filled with tea leaves into the cup.
Dahlia made her way back down the hall. “Okay, here you...”
The room was empty. No Noel, but the wiggle worm remained on the mattress.
“Noel?” Dahlia frowned as she walked around to the other side of the bed. “Noel, honey, where are you?” She went into the dressing room. He wasn’t there, either.
The bathroom was also empty. Her fingers went numb, and she dropped the cup of tea on the tiled floor, barely registering the hot spray spattered her ankles.
Rushing out of the bathroom, she yelled, “Noel!”
She dropped to the floor and checked under the bed. Empty.
She recalled her unease outside the apartment and panic set in. Dahlia jumped up and ran into the hall. “Noel!” she screamed. She ran from room to room, screaming his name, shoving open doors.
“Noel!” she screamed from a throat raw with terror.
She ran back down the hallway and heard movement in the bedroom. She pushed the door open, but it wasn’t Noel. It was Kofi.
He frowned. “What’s going on? Aofa told me Noel was sick and you came up here with him. Where is he?”
The room began to spin and Dahlia reached out to him for balance. He moved swiftly and grabbed her hands to steady her.
“Dahlia, where is he?” he asked again, louder this time.
“I don’t know.” An uncontrollable shaking overtook her body. “He’s not here.”
25
When she finally stopped hyperventilating, Dahlia shut down. Time lost all meaning. In her stupor, she heard Abdalla, Kofi, and Oriyeh talking but couldn’t understand a word they said. All she could do was imagine her little boy, sick and terrified, without her or his stuffed animal for comfort.
Who would take him? Did they want money? Were they going to hurt him—cut off an ear or a toe to send a message? Nausea bubbled in her stomach and, elbows to knees, she covered her face with her hands.
My baby, my baby. She was so close to cracking.
“How could someone get in here without being seen?” Kofi shouted.
“We don’t know for sure, but I have an idea,” Oriyeh replied. “I’ve checked the records for the panel outside your door. No one entered the apartment after Princess Dahlia except you. They must have entered through the escape room behind your bedroom and slipped into the princess’s room through the hallway connected to yours.”
A hidden room behind a wall in Kofi’s bedroom could be used as an escape route in the event the palace ever came under siege. He and his family could be whisked away to safety through an underground route.
“Very few people know about that,” Kofi said.
“I believe that’s the only way the kidnapper could have entered undetected, which means he or she knew about it, too. We can only wait to see who claims responsibility for the kidnapping.”
“Wait! We need answers and we need answers now. Our son is gone.”
“Since the note that was left for King Babatunde, we’ve been working with the police to identify anyone who might have a grudge against the monarchy. There has been no communication to the palace. No ransom demands. Nothing at all.”
“He’s a child. Who would do this?” Dahlia asked, surprised at the raspy sound of her voice.
All eyes turned to her.
“Is it possible he wandered off, Princess Dahlia?” Oriyeh asked gently.
“Wandered off? He’s sick.”
“There are secret passages—”
“Are you suggesting—” Kofi cut in, eyebrows drawn together.
“He didn’t go through a secret passage!” Dahlia snapped. “I left him in bed with his stuffed toy. Even if he got up and went somewhere on his own, he wouldn’t leave that damn worm. He loves it too much. He’s sick and it comforts him. Someone took him.” She sniffed and rubbed away the tears that trailed down her cheeks. “I was only gone for a few minutes.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Kofi said gently.
She sat up straighter. “I am not blaming myself. I blame the man who promised me nothing would happen to my child, who promised me he would be safe.”
Abdalla and Yasir dropped their eyes to the carpet.
“Dahlia—”
She jumped to her feet and pointed a finger at Kofi. “Don’t you say a word to me!”
“We will find him, Princess Dahlia,” Oriyeh said in a soft voice.
Dahlia paid no attention to Oriyeh. She kept her eyes on Kofi. “You said no one would dare touch him. You were wrong.” Her voice trembled and tears filled her eyes. “I don’t care what you do or how you do it. You find hi
m, and you find him safe. Or I’ll never forgive you.”
She stormed out of the bedroom and slammed the door.
Kofi found Dahlia in the Great Holy Place, a large room in the palace that served as a shrine, where anyone could come and pray to gods, the one true God, their ancestors, or whatever being they believed in. Priests kept incense and candles burning at all times.
He swallowed his own pain and fear and walked over to where Dahlia lay prostrate on a prayer mat, head bent, arms outstretched on the floor. Her thick hair created a shroud around her head. As he neared, he heard her quiet sobs and lowered to the floor next to her.
“We’ll find him.” She didn’t respond and continued crying.
Kofi helped her to her feet without a fight. She rested her tear-stained cheek to his chest and let him lift and carry her all the way back to their apartment. In her bedroom, he removed her clothes and dressed her in a cotton nightshirt and tucked her into bed.
Then he undressed down to his boxers and slipped in beside her, pulling her into his arms.
“Parents are supposed to protect their children,” Dahlia whispered. “I shouldn’t have brought him here.”
Dragging his fingers through her soft hair, Kofi held her until she fell asleep in his arms.
When this nightmare was over, he knew what he had to do.
Dahlia woke up. Blinking, she stared into the semi-darkness.
She rolled over. The bed was empty and the sheets cool. Kofi had been gone for a while. She winced when she remembered what she said to him. It was terrible to blame him. She needed to tell him they were in this together and let him know how sorry she was for what she said.
She swung her feet off the bed and went through the panel in the wall. His bedroom was empty. Where was he at this time of night?
She went back through the secret panel and pulled on a robe, then she went in search of her husband. Maybe he was in his office on the first floor. She padded quietly through their dimly lit quarters, when she heard raised voices.
Dahlia swung around. Angling her head, she listened. The voices came from the back of the apartment. Hurrying, she went toward a room where a light shone under the door. As she edged closer, one voice became louder.
“Tell us what you know!” Oriyeh yelled.
Dahlia rushed forward and pushed open the door. Five sets of eyes swung in her direction. “What’s going on?” she asked, though she saw well enough what was taking place.
Aofa sat with each wrist handcuffed to an arm of a chair, while two members of palace security were stationed nearby, both wearing their blue-on-blue uniform and weaponry.
“Aofa is being questioned,” Kofi answered.
“Does she know something about Noel? Does she know where he is?”
Kofi sent a silent message across the room to Oriyeh, and Dahlia swung in the woman’s direction. “Tell me! What’s going on?”
“My investigation has led me to believe Aofa knows where Prince Noel is. We’re trying to get the information and learn who else is involved.”
Trying to get the information? Why wouldn’t she tell them?
Dahlia opened her mouth to ask that very question and paused when she saw the tears in Aofa’s eyes. The woman looked terrified. She definitely knew something.
“Where is Noel?” Dahlia asked.
Aofa averted her eyes.
“Where is my son?” Dahlia asked, a faint tremor inflicting the tone.
“Your Highness, please let us handle this,” Oriyeh said gently.
Dahlia’s head pounded with tension, worry, and fear. “Is he alive?” she asked.
Surely Aofa would give her something. Anything, to ease her chaotic thoughts.
She didn’t say a word. She continued to stare at the wall.
“Answer the question,” Oriyeh said.
Nothing. Nothing at all, from the woman who’d bathed and played with her son for weeks, slept in the same room as him, kissed him, fed him, and treated him the way Dahlia imagined she treated her own grandchildren. She’d entrusted Aofa with the most precious thing in her life, and she sat there saying nothing.
Dahlia couldn’t bear not knowing anymore. Her eyes zoomed in on the dagger hitched to the hip of the nearest guard. In a fit of rage, she yanked the weapon from its holster and charged toward Aofa.
“Ne touche pas!” Kofi barked when the guard moved to come after her.
Aofa’s eyes widened in panic. Her wrists rattled against the handcuffs.
Dahlia grabbed her by the throat. “Where is my son?”
Aofa babbled in her native tongue, eyes stretched to the size of a fifty-cent Zamibian coin darting back and forth among the other people in the room.
“Tell me!” Dahlia screamed.
“I don’t know!”
“Tell me where he is!” Dahlia lifted the dagger above her head.
“Cape Ndugu!” Aofa yelled, letting out a gut-wrenching wail at the end.
Dahlia’s hand tightened around the handle of the dagger, and tears flooded her eyes as relief poured through her bloodstream. “Is he alive?”
“Yes. I believe he is alive, Your Highness.”
Her son was alive!
“Why was he taken?”
“Revenge. He wanted r-revenge.”
“Who wanted revenge?” Oriyeh asked.
“Please, if I tell you, he will slit the throat of my grandchildren.”
“If you don’t tell us, I’ll slit your throat where you sit.” Dahlia’s hand tightened around the handle of the knife.
Aofa openly wept, her entire body shaking. “Kemal. Kemal has the prince.”
Gasps filled the room.
Aofa’s head fell forward, and her shoulders shook from the force of her sobs. “I did not want to do this.”
Dahlia stared at the woman charged with taking care of her son. Her mind rewound all the times Aofa cradled Noel in her arms. It destroyed her that Aofa could have been involved in this crime.
“You should have come to me,” she said.
“Have mercy on me, Princess.” Aofa’s eyes pleaded for forgiveness.
Firm fingers encircled Dahlia’s wrist. She turned to see Kofi standing behind her. Gently, he applied pressure and her fingers slackened. The dagger clattered to the floor.
Dahlia collapsed in his arms, suddenly weak. Exhausted. It felt as if Noel had been missing for weeks instead of hours.
She listened as Kofi’s soothing voice gave out commands and Oriyeh replied. After several minutes of the same, the conversation ended and Kofi escorted Dahlia from the room, nestled to his side.
Kofi paced with the phone to his ear, carrying on a conversation in Mbutu. Dahlia watched him from her position on the bed, reclining against the pillows.
When he hung up, he heaved out a heavy breath.
“How far away is Cape Ndugu?” she asked. She had a vague sense of the fishing village’s location but knew little else, other than most of the villagers there belonged to the Ndenga tribe.
“Far.” The solemnity in his voice and eyes disturbed her.
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked. A tennis-ball size of dread blocked her throat.
“He has a head start on us. We’ll have to fly there.”
“Who’s going with you?”
“Abdalla, Yasir, and Oriyeh. We’ll meet with the local authorities at the Cape.”
Dahlia sat up. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.” He shook his head.
“Kofi, please.”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“Noel must be terrified. He’ll need me.”
“No.”
“Why not?” She hopped off the bed. “I’ll stay out of the way, I—”
“No!”
“Why not!” she screamed.
“Because I can’t risk losing you, too!”
She stared at him, aghast. “You don’t—you don’t think he’s coming back,” she whispered in a tremulous voice.
Kofi expel
led air through his nose. “We don’t know if anyone else is working with Kemal or what they’ll do if cornered.”
She walked over to him and fisted her hands in his shirt. “Kofi, please, let me come with you.”
He held onto her wrists. “It’s too dangerous.”
“But you’re going.”
“I’m a trained soldier. If I alone go, security will only have to be concerned about my safety and the safety of our son. We shouldn’t add you to the mix.”
“I need to see him. I need to hold him. Please.”
“Dahlia.” He closed his eyes.
“Please. I’m begging you.”
He sighed and opened his eyes. Speaking very slowly, he said, “You will stay out of the way and do exactly what I say.”
Dahlia nodded vigorously. “Yes, I promise.”
He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe he was going to say the next words. “Get dressed. You have five minutes.”
26
Dahlia had never dressed so quickly before in her life. She dressed in all black and secured her hair in a ponytail. As she exited the dressing room, Kofi hung up the phone.
“Oriyeh confirmed she’s at the helicopter now.” He glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. “We’ll be at the Cape in a couple of hours. Assuming Kemal left as soon as he kidnapped Noel, we should arrive ahead of him, with enough time to pick up the SUV Oriyeh arranged and drive to his house to lie in wait for him.”
“Perfect.” More hope came alive in her chest.
“Let’s go.”
Dahlia placed her hand in his, and the two rushed through the apartment on speedy feet.
“Do you have any idea why Kemal did this?” Dahlia asked. Aofa stated revenge was the motive, but revenge for what?
“I have an idea,” Kofi said in a grim tone.
He obviously didn’t want to say his thoughts out loud, so she said them for him. “I don’t think he wanted you to marry me. He hates me, and I’ve known for a long time.”
“You’re right, he didn’t want us to marry. Three years ago when you called to tell me you were pregnant, he kept the call from me on purpose because he knew how I felt about you. He doesn’t hate you. It’s me he hates.” He opened the front door and they hurried through.
Princess of Zamibia Page 15