by Arno Joubert
“Henry Theron?” Alexa asked with a frown.
Jake shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”
“You’ve told this to Inspector Moolman?” Neil asked.
Jake shook his head vehemently. “No way, he’s stuck so deep up Uncle Eben’s ass, the de Vos family can do no wrong, according to him.”
“Watch your language, young man,” Jake’s mother admonished.
He sighed. “It’s the truth, Mom. They have their own dark little secrets that no one knows about.”
“Like what?”
He said nothing.
“Like what, Jake?” his mom asked firmly.
“Mr. de Vos beat his wife,” Jake blurted out.
“How would you know?” Alexa asked.
“I heard it. I visited one night, and Alida hid me in the pantry when her dad and mom arrived. I heard him shout and curse; he was drunk. When he finally went to bed, Mrs. de Vos came into the kitchen crying like a baby. Her face was all smashed up. Alida and I tried to fix her up as best we could, but she refused to go to the doctor.”
Alexa studied the strange script on the second photocopied page. “What’s this?”
Jake shrugged. “I think it’s Thai.”
“You don’t understand what it says?”
“No, I don’t speak Thai.”
“Do you mind if I have it checked out?”
“Be my guest.”
Neil stood up. “OK, I think that’s all we need for now. Thanks for your time, Jake.”
Jake stood up and nodded. “That’s fine. I hope you get the bastard who did this to her.” He turned to his mom. “Is there something to eat? I’m starving.”
Alexa glanced at her screen as her phone rang. “Inspector?” she straightened as she answered. “Found what? OK, we’re on our way.”
She disconnected the call and turned to Neil. “They found a cave up at the dam. It looks like it’s been inhabited for some time.”
Neil strode to the door. “Let’s go.”
It was late, and the sun cast long shadows behind the shaded slope of the mountain. The road was deserted save for a couple of tumbleweeds that rolled into the road and whirled to the side as they sped past. Alexa saw Neil look into his rearview mirror and turn in his seat. “I think we’re being followed.”
They were. The white pickup had been on their tail since they left town. She glanced at the rearview. “How many?”
“Driver and a passenger. Probably some in the cargo bed.”
Alexa nodded. There was no use in waiting to find out if they wanted to talk. If someone wanted to talk, they phoned. Or sent you an email if it wasn’t that urgent. Tails meant one of three things: you had an interesting bumper sticker, they were headed where you were going, or they were targeting you. The chances were slim that someone they didn’t know was heading to their crime scene, so Alexa had to consider the third reason. They were being targeted. She accelerated, and the truck behind them lurched forward. She slowed down, waving the truck past. They slowed down as well.
She sighed and glanced at Neil. “OK, let’s find out what they want.” She floored the accelerator, scanning the road ahead for a suitable area.
Neil pointed. “Over there.”
She slowed down and skidded to a halt on the shoulder of the dusty road. They were on a bend on the route leading up to the mountain, and they had a clear view of oncoming traffic on either side. Below them, they saw a steep five-yard drop. A metal pipe ran beneath the road and down the drop. On the ground it followed a rough footpath down the side of the mountain: good for an escape route.
The pickup slowed to a crawl. A man in the passenger seat fumbled on the seat next to him then sat up with a pump-action shotgun clutched to his chest. The truck lurched forward and picked up speed, heading straight toward them. Alexa and Neil exchanged a quick glance as they unholstered their Glocks and pointed them at the speeding vehicle. “Don’t shoot unless they shoot first; perhaps they’ll drive past!” Alexa shouted.
She heard Neil chuckle. There was no way they were going to pass. The pickup was heading straight toward them. Alexa saw two men stand up in the bed of the truck, holding on to the rail on the roof. The truck picked up speed, and they dove out of the way as it smashed into their rental, sending the rear end of Alexa’s car bursting through the low wall at the edge of the road. She heard metal creak as the vehicle balanced precariously on the edge of the cliff.
Steam exploded from the truck’s radiator, and the two men at the back recovered first, jumping from the back, weapons held ready.
“Watch out, Alexa!” Neil shouted, slamming a clip into his Glock as he ducked behind their rental.
“Got you,” Alexa said, finding shelter at the front of the car.
An automatic weapon barked, and slugs slammed into the roof of the car. “Can I fire now?” Neil shouted, ducking his head lower.
Alexa snorted disdainfully before she stood up and fired a single shot. The shooter shrieked and fell to the ground with a hole between his eyes.
Alexa ducked back down. The other men were crouching at the back of the pickup; she could see their feet when she hunkered down. Alexa glanced at Neil and he nodded, then they dropped to the ground and fired in unison. A slug exploded into a shin; someone screamed.
Three pairs of feet disappeared, probably seeking shelter in the cargo bed of the truck. Neil raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Alexa nodded. He shrugged, stood up, and shuffled to the side of the pickup, spraying the bed with bullets as he went. The gunfire reverberated off the rock walls of the mountain and faded into a distant echo. Neil pointed his weapon at the ground and turned to Alexa. She approached cautiously, listening closely. Someone groaned. “Cover me,” Neil said, striding to the truck. Alexa nodded.
Neil peeked over the side, then he manhandled a bloodied man out of the back and dragged him along the ground toward Alexa. She sauntered forward, holstering her weapon. He wore black army fatigues with a red beret. “Peterson” was embroidered above his pocket. Neil made him kneel in front of Alexa.
“Why did you try to kill us?” Neil asked, nudging the man with his foot.
The man groaned, clutching his injured leg. He didn’t seem to have any other wounds.
Alexa unholstered her Glock and pressed it against the man’s head. “Tell me why you shot at us.”
The man squinted his eyes in pain and howled.
Alexa glanced at Neil. With a shrug he pushed the man to the ground and rolled him over, cuffing his hands behind his back. “We’ll deal with him later. We need to get the car back on the road,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
Alexa crouched next to the wounded man. He was sobbing in pain and howling profanities at them. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “Don’t bother. I’ll get Bruce to pick us up.”
Yumi peered over the rocky outcrop. The men with guns had found her hiding place. She was afraid. She had nowhere else to go.
She saw the tall man’s car return; it had sped away a couple of minutes earlier. Three people climbed out. First was the tall man she had seen earlier. He walked around to the back and opened the door for a dark-haired lady. She walked to the front of the car and waited for another big man. Yumi could see his muscles rippling beneath a tight white shirt. The lady reminded her of a black puma, like the ones from the picture book that Ally had shown her. She looked like Ally, but she was much taller.
The three of them marched toward the nervous man in the uniform. Ally’s daddy stood with his forehead against the concrete wall, a big palm planted flat against the smooth surface. It looked like he was listening. Like the big wall was telling him a story. She felt sorry for him; he looked so sad.
Yumi followed them at a distance, making sure to stay out of sight. The man in the uniform showed them the opening in the rock, the place where her home had been for the past month. The strong man nodded and wriggled into the crevice. The pretty girl followed him inside.
Yumi plopped down into the di
rt, suppressing a sob. Ally had told her she would be safe there. She looked up as she heard the lady’s voice. She was talking to the men as if she was ordering them around. She had never seen a woman do that. The men nodded and walked away.
Yumi didn’t want anything to do with any men. They only hurt you. But she thought the cat-lady might listen to her. Maybe she could help.
Yumi saw the pretty lady look back as someone called her name. It was the tall man with the leathery skin. He had short grey hair and eyes the color of the sky when there were no clouds. She had never seen someone so tall. He wasn’t scary looking like the other men. He called the lady “Captain.”
Yumi doubled back, using the shrubs for cover, and scampered into the cool forest. She followed them, watching them through the trees, and she made sure not to be seen, the way Ally had taught her. They stood around the altar and kneeled down to examine something. They were talking animatedly, waving their hands and shaking their heads.
Then the tall man looked up at the sky and strode to his car with long strides. The other people gathered around the altar, standing in groups, seemingly unsure of what to do. They probably felt like her. She didn’t know where she was going to find food. She hadn’t eaten anything for a day, and her fresh water was running out. She wished she could find someone she could trust, like Ally. But Ally was gone now, and she would never come back.
Yumi now knew she didn’t have a choice; she would have to go into town to scavenge for food until she could think of a plan. Ally had told her that she was a survivor, and she was going to get out of this situation too, the way she always did.
She stood up to leave, then felt a hand clamp over her mouth. She tried to scream, tried to stomp her feet down on his toes, but the man lifted her off her feet like a doll.
She sobbed, tears burning her eyes. Ally helping her escape had been for nothing. The cold, the scary darkness. All the other girls, dead. It had all been in vain. She felt the energy drain from her body, her limbs starting to tingle. Exhaustion and hunger had taken their toll. She blinked once, twice. Then the world went dark.
CHAPTER THREE
Alexa watched in frustration as the injured man sat at the table, rocking back and forth on the chair, his hands planted firmly beneath his bottom. He kept on mumbling the same sentence over and over, rocking as he spoke.
A doctor had attended to his wounds. His ankle was busted up where Alexa had shot him, but he would live. His colleagues hadn’t been as fortunate.
Neil gave him a sandwich, some coffee, and a cigarette. The coffee and cigarette stood steaming and smoking on the table in front of him, untouched. The sandwich was still in its plastic wrapper.
She turned to Neil with an exasperated sigh. He shrugged. “I think he’s saying that someone wants to kill him.”
Neil pulled a chair closer. “Who’s going to kill you?” he asked, enunciating the words.
The man looked up at Neil then pulled a face and continued with the gibberish.
Alexa had had enough. She circled the man like he was her prey, her sneakers squelching on the polished linoleum tiles of the interrogation room. This piece of shit knew something, her gut told her so.
She involuntarily rubbed her arms at the memory of her dive in the icy depths. The tiny bodies, her and Neil carefully feeding them into the body bags, gently laying them out on the harbor wall. The memories were like a festering sore; she knew they were clouding her judgment, but she didn’t care. She needed answers, now. She strode to the small table in the center of the drab room and grabbed the edges, leaning over the man.
“Listen to me,” she hissed.
He closed his eyes and pursed his lips, repeating the phrase, “He’s going to kill me,” like a meditating monk, shaking his head, trying to drown her voice out of his mind.
Alexa slammed the table with her palm, toppling the coffee over. It spilled onto the table and started dripping into the man’s lap. His shoulders jerked back, but he shook his head and kept his eyes scrunched closed, unwilling to say anything.
Alexa lost it. She snarled as she grabbed the guy by the throat and pulled him toward her. Now she had his damn attention. His eyes flew open and he grabbed her arm with both hands, trying to pull himself free. “Talk, you piece of shit,” she growled, slamming her palm into his face.
Neil jumped up, his chair clattering to the floor behind him, then grabbed her shoulder. “Alexa, no, let go,” he said, catching her arm before she could strike the man again.
“He knows something, Neil, he’s wasting our fuckin’ time!” she shouted and ripped her arm free. She clamped her hand tighter around the man’s throat, his eyes bulging and his tongue starting to stick out of his mouth. The same way the kids’ eyes stared at her from their hollow sockets. The same way her eyes had probably bulged when she had been tied up and abused in Dabbort Creek by Andy Fitch. The red mist appeared, blurring her vision.
Moolman strode forward and tried to pry her hand from the man’s neck, but she slammed her fist into his nose.
“What the fuck?” he gasped as he fell back, clutching his face, blood trickling between his fingers and dripping onto his crisp white shirt.
She turned back to the prisoner. “Tell me what you know,” she growled, jerking him around by his throat.
The man squealed and managed to pry her hand free, trailing four bloody claw marks on his neck. The red mist became overpowering. For a second she lost her vision, the mist having transformed into a deluge of sticky, red blood. She grabbed him by the hair and shoved the table aside then slammed a fist into the man’s stomach. The same way Fitch had hit her in the stomach, repeatedly. The same way Fitch had killed her baby. The man doubled over, wheezing, clutching his stomach.
She brought a knee up to smash his face, but Neil grabbed her in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground. She wriggled and twisted until she felt Neil losing his grip on her. He clamped a powerful arm around her neck and pulled her head toward his chest.
“Alexa, no!” he shouted, holding onto her. She sucked in rasping breaths through her nose then lowered herself, preparing to smash her head into Neil’s chin.
“Alexa, please, don’t!” Neil shouted, loosening his grip around her neck.
She pulled free and pushed him away with a snarl. She poked an accusing finger in his face. “You ever do that again, you better be prepared to get hurt, boy.”
Neil blinked, once, twice, then nodded. “Sorry.”
The mist was slowly clearing. She breathed in a couple of deep breaths then lowered her finger. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He gave her a wide-eyed nod.
She ground her teeth. “Argh!” she shouted, lifting her arms and shaking her fists in front of her face. She strode to the door and slammed it shut behind her.
Neil watched Moolman run his finger around the polystyrene cup then tenderly touch the duct tape Neil had stuck across the bridge of his nose. The man had been lucky. If Alexa had put any more effort into the blow, doctors would now be removing his septum from his brain.
When she became like that, you had to stay out of her away. Like you stayed out of the way of an angry jaguar. He sighed. It happened often lately. Neil and Bruce were the only people that could snap her out of that murdering trance. It worried him. Bruce said she was angry about what had happened, but for how long could this kind of anger last?
She was captured then tortured for an entire day. She told Neil that the only way she could deal with the pain was by biting her lip and concentrating on that pain. She had bitten right through her lower lip; she still carried a small scar. A man called Anderson Fitch had beaten her with his cane. She was pissing blood for weeks after the incident.
Moolman shook his head and sighed then looked up from the cup. Neil knew what he wanted to ask.
“What happened today?”
Neil thought for a while. This was going to be difficult. “Alexa is . . . different than anyone you know.”
“Different? How?”
“She is a brilliant soldier and an even better investigator.”
“I know that. But what the hell happened today?”
“She doesn’t react to stressful situations the way you and I do.”
“How does she?”
“She stays calm and rational. It used to amaze me how she could always be so calm while the world around her was falling apart.”
“She didn’t look too calm to me today.”
“Lately she hasn’t been herself. She becomes angry and then explodes.”
“But why? What’s changed?”
Neil planted his elbows on the table then massaged his brow with his fingers. “It’s a long story, Inspector.”
“I have time.”
Neil sat back in his chair. “Alexa saw someone murder her father when she was a kid. Since then she and her mother have been on the run. Colonel Bruce Bryden, her adoptive father, decided to take her under his wing. He taught her how to protect herself. Taught her to act, not wait, to attack, not defend. She always reacts to situations, she doesn’t wait for something to happen. She’s been doing exactly that since she was a young girl.”
Moolman pondered this over. “I don’t understand how that led to today’s events.”
Neil sat up. “Moolman, the only reason I’m telling you this is because I want you to understand.”
An uncomfortable silence. Then Moolman nodded.
“On our previous mission, Alexa was severely beaten. We thought she was going to die. She’s had…,” Neil said and hesitated. “Anger issues ever since.”
Moolman’s brow furrowed with concern. “How long ago?”
“A month.”
“But shouldn’t she be recovering?”
Neil stood up. “That decision is up to General Laiveaux, our supreme commander.” He turned to face Moolman. “Personally, I feel that it’s better for her to be back in the field again, working cases.”
Moolman took a second before answering. “But then she isn’t qualified to lead the investigation.”