Dark Traces

by Martin Steyn

  Magson started the Corolla and drove to the guesthouse. After the morning’s drama, they had offered to come back in the afternoon, particularly because they had wanted to talk to Odette, and she had clearly been too upset at that stage. Fortunately, Daniël Ferreira hadn’t required much encouragement to leave after witnessing the terrified little face in the doorway.

  They knocked on the door and Bruno Volschenk opened it. He came outside, closing the door behind him.

  “Look, I understand it’s important to ask your questions. And of course we want you to catch Danielle’s murderer. It’s just that Odette is really upset. The whole thing with Danielle is difficult enough; they were close. It took a hell of a long time to calm her down after Ferreira made that scene this morning.”

  “We understand, Mr. Volschenk,” said Magson.

  “So if Odette gets upset in any way, I’m going to ask you to leave.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “Okay.” He glanced at Magson a moment longer, opened the door and the three of them entered the room.

  Odette Volschenk was lying on her stomach on the carpet. Two light brown braids trailed down the sides of her face, tied at the ends with bright yellow scrunchies. Her feet swayed in the air while she was drawing in a book.

  “Odette,” said her mother, “these are policemen. They want to talk to you.”

  Menck crouched next to the girl. They had decided that he should speak with her.

  “Hi, Odette. My name is Colin. What are you drawing?”

  She didn’t look up and kept on drawing. “It’s the Taj Mahal. Daniella said it’s the prettiest building in the whole world. Daniella is my big sister, but we have different daddies. She said one day when she had a job, she’d take us to see it. It’s in India.”

  “It’s very pretty.”

  “I’m not finished yet.” She placed the thick triangular coloring pencil on the carpet and selected another one. Started coloring again. “A prince built it for his princess when she died. Because he loved her very much. It took twenty years.”

  “Twenty years! Wow. You’re very clever.”

  “Daniella told me.”

  “Did Daniella tell you she was going away?” asked Menck.

  “No. But Daniella was sad.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No, she wouldn’t say.” The pencil’s lines were darker, scratchy. “But she got into bed with me and held me and she cried.”

  “When was this, Odette? Can you remember?”

  “The other day.” She studied the picture for a while and chose a new color. “I made her less sad. Daniella said so. But I couldn’t make her better.” She looked up, her brown eyes large and serious in her small round face. “You can’t just stick a plaster on your heart to make it better. It’s not like when I fall and hurt my knee.”

  No, thought Magson, and heard Menck echoing him, “No.”

  She looked back down at the drawing. “I’m sad now, too, because Mommy says Daniella is never coming back.”

  “I am sorry about that.” Menck took one of her braids, letting it slip through his fingers.

  “Daniella always told me stories. About princes and princesses and fairies and things. In the evening when I get into bed, then it’s Oddie’s Story Time.” She looked up at Menck. “I’m Oddie.” She looked down again. “I liked having a big sister. But now it’s just me.”

  Magson wanted to wrap his arms around her, hold her head against his shoulder and lie to her that everything would be all right. She would believe him, because she was young. She still believed the world was really a good place.

  “What do you still have to draw before the picture is done?” asked Menck.

  “Daniella and me. She can’t take us anymore. But I can take her in my picture.” Her face scrunched up. “But I can’t do it right.”

  Someone pounded on the door. Odette’s head whipped up, her eyes large. Magson looked around.

  “What the hell?” muttered Bruno Volschenk and opened the door.

  Daniël Ferreira burst in and grabbed him by the shirt. “You fucking pig! I’m going to kill you!”

  Menck was on his feet. Ronel Volschenk screamed at her ex-husband while her current one was trying to fend off the attack on him. Magson moved closer and attempted to separate them. In the scuffle Daniël Ferreira’s elbow smashed into his nose. For a moment everything turned black and then the world was swimming behind shimmering bright spots. Warm blood rushed over his mouth.

  “Let my daddy go!” screamed Odette. “Let my daddy go!”

  The room came back into focus. Menck grabbed Daniël Ferreira from behind and managed to pin one arm against his back.

  Bruno Volschenk was breathing hard and started rearranging his clothes. “What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

  “Let me go!” yelled Daniël Ferreira, struggling to free himself from Menck’s hold. “Let me go!”

  Magson pinched his nose to stem the stream of blood. His mouth was filled with the taste of warm copper.

  Ronel Volschenk stared at the men while Odette, crying, clutched at her legs. “Don’t hurt my daddy, don’t hurt my daddy, don’t ...”

  “Mr. Ferreira! Calm down. Now. You’re upsetting the little girl.” Menck had succeeded in cuffing his hands behind his back. “Mags, you okay?” He was looking at the blood on Magson’s chin and clothes, concerned.

  “I’m going to kill you!” snarled Daniël Ferreira at Bruno Volschenk.

  “Daniël, what is wrong with you?” asked his ex-wife.

  “This scum tried to rape Danielle! That’s what’s wrong! I’m going to kill you!” Despite the handcuffs, Menck was still grappling with him.

  Odette clutched her mother’s pants in tight little fists, tears streaming across her cheeks.

  “You’re off your rocker, man. I would never do such a thing.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “Look, I understand you’re upset. We all are.”

  “She wrote a letter, you stupid bastard! Everything’s in there! How you came into her room—”

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Menck’s voice was loud and decisive. “This is what’s going to happen now. Mrs. Volschenk, take Odette outside. Mr. Volschenk, sit on the bed. And Mr. Ferreira, calm down. I’m going to let go and then you will sit down on that chair. Otherwise, I will lock you up in the cells until you calm down.”

  “But he—”

  “One more word, Mr. Ferreira.”

  Something in Menck’s voice caused the man to close his mouth and stop struggling.

  “Okay, on the chair.”

  Menck slowly released him and Daniël Ferreira sat down on the chair. He glared at Bruno Volschenk, but said nothing.

  “What are you going to do, Warrant?” asked Ronel Volschenk.

  “See whether my partner is okay and then find out what is going on. Please take care of Odette.”

  The woman seemed uncertain, but she took her daughter outside. Odette looked at her father with shiny, frightened eyes, at Menck and back at her father.

  “Don’t worry, Odette,” said Menck. “I won’t let your daddy get hurt.”

  She looked at him with her large eyes and the door closed behind them.

  “Mags. Are you okay?”

  “Ja, I’b all right.” Magson’s voice sounded strange, because he was pinching his nose between thumb and index finger.

  “Is it broken?”

  “No. But it hurts like a bitch.” He went to the bathroom. Tore off a long strip of toilet paper, bunching it together in his right hand.

  “What letter are you talking about, Mr. Ferreira?” Menck was asking in the room.

  Magson opened the faucet and wiped the blood from his face. The shirt was probably a write-off. His tie was smeared. It was on his jacket, as well.

&
nbsp; “It came today,” said Daniël Ferreira. “I’ve got it here. It’s in my pocket.”

  Magson released his nose slowly, but blood instantly tickled inside his nostril. A bright red droplet hit the white porcelain, fine tendrils radiating from the edge. Another droplet. And another.

  “You killed her,” said Daniël Ferreira somewhere.

  The small pool of blood broke and a trickle crawled across the porcelain, glided over the rim onto the silver edge of the drain, mixing with the little water left behind.

  “It was you Danielle tried to get away from.”

  Magson watched as more blood dripped, following the same red trickle, finally pushing over the edge, disappearing into the black of the drain.

  “Mags.” Menck’s voice.

  Magson blinked. He tore off another strip of toilet paper and rolled plugs for his nose. Checked the mirror to make sure he looked somewhat respectable.

  In the room, Menck was holding a piece of paper. “You okay?”

  Magson nodded.

  “Look at this.”

  Magson took the sheet. It was about A5 in size, white with black lines. The script was pretty, the words in blue ink that had wept a bit into the paper.

  Daddy

  I don’t know what to do. I just know I can’t cope here anymore. I’m coming to you. But I’m afraid I’ll chicken out so I’m writing it down and sending this letter. It’s so difficult. Something happened Daddy. It’s Uncle Bruno. Mom wasn’t here because she’s always working. He came into the bathroom after I showered and said I’m becoming a lovely girl. He touched me Daddy. And Oddie was in front of the TV! He said if I make a scene she’ll hear and what would she think if she sees me seducing her dad. He wanted me to touch him as well but I refused. He said it’s okay we can take it slowly. He said I shouldn’t bother trying to tell Mom because she would never believe me. And he’s right because Mom and I don’t get along. She’ll think I’m looking for attention or something. And poor Oddie. She loves her dad so much. Last night he came into my room. He touched me again and pushed his body against mine. He wanted me to touch him but I wouldn’t. He said I’d better start getting over myself because Mom is cold and boring and a man has certain needs and if I don’t give it to him there’s only one other girl left. Oddie!! I don’t know what to do Daddy! I don’t know if he would really do something to Oddie but he’s completely different when he gets like this. Hopefully I’ve told you everything already. You’ll know what to do. I love you Daddy.

  XXX Danielle

  Magson looked up at Bruno Volschenk, sitting on the bed with his arms tightly crossed.

  “Whatever she’s written in that letter,” said Danielle’s stepfather, “it’s not true. I didn’t touch her. I’m not like that. Danielle had issues.”

  “You have nothing to say about my daughter,” said Daniël Ferreira.

  “She and her mother were constantly fighting. To make up lies about me was probably her plan to go and live with her father.”

  “You shut up about Danielle!”

  “Mr. Ferreira, please,” said Menck. “I understand you’re upset, but threatening and yelling isn’t helping the situation.”

  “Nothing can help the situation,” said Daniël Ferreira, head down. “It’s too late. Danielle is dead.”

  A tear dripped from his chin on to his trousers.

  Thirteen

  May 22, 2014. Thursday.

  Danielle Ferreira was smiling at him. Her light brown eyes were smiling, too. A blonde lock had fallen down the side of her face.

  Danielle had loved the ocean, Magson now knew. Sea, sand, sun and her sister. She had found as much pleasure in building sand castles with Odette on the beach as she had surfing. Jeffreys Bay had been her favorite. She hadn’t known what she wanted to be yet.

  The newspaper report encircling the photo was a request for the public’s assistance, in particular anyone who might have given her a lift on Friday, May 16, or seen her aboard a bus.

  Magson leafed through the rest of Die Burger, listless, scanning the headlines but not reading any of the reports. One of the readers’ letters drew his attention. “Concerned” from Brackenfell wanted to know how many more young girls had to be murdered before the “incompetent police” would catch the killer.

  Magson closed the newspaper, not even bothering with the sports section.

  “Warrant Magson, I just want to say again I’m sorry.”

  “Long forgotten, Mr. Ferreira.” Not entirely, Magson had realized earlier when he’d just scratched his itchy nose.

  “And thank you for not laying a charge.”

  “I don’t lay frivolous charges, Mr. Ferreira. Come up to my office.”

  Daniël Ferreira looked even worse than yesterday. Unshaven, greasy hair, bags under his puffy red eyes. His shirt had a stain and looked as if he’d slept in it, the jacket was crooked. And Magson could smell yesterday’s alcohol on him.

  The elevator took them to the fifth floor. Magson punched in a code at the security gate and pushed it open. He shut it behind them. The tortured shriek of the hinges echoed along the uncarpeted corridors—and in Daniël Ferreira’s head, judging by the contorted expression on his face and the fingers pressing against his temple.

  They walked down the corridor.

  “What will happen now?”

  “We’re following up on all the leads we already have. There were reports in most of the Cape and Southern Cape newspapers this morning, requesting the public’s help. As the phone calls come in, we’ll follow up.”

  “I meant with Volschenk.”

  “Oh.” Magson motioned for Daniël Ferreira to enter his office. “I passed all the information on to FCS. That’s the Family Violence, Child Protection and Sexual Offences Unit. It’s their mandate. An investigating officer will contact you soon, but I’ll give you their contact details anyway.” Magson met the man’s eyes. “But I have to tell you, their focus will be on the sister, Odette, to ensure her safety.”

  “But what about Danielle? That bastard molested her!”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ferreira, but there simply isn’t enough evidence to build a case against him. Such cases are difficult enough with a complainant. Without Danielle’s testimony ...”

  “What about the letter? That’s her testimony!”

  “I wish it was enough, Mr. Ferreira. FCS will investigate. If they get more evidence against Mr. Volschenk, they may take it further. I just want you to understand that the chances are slim.”

  “But it’s him. It’s his fault. He is the reason Danielle is dead. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have run away. And then she would still have been alive.”

  How many times had he himself gone down the road of “if.” His always started with, If Emma didn’t get sick ... But it changed nothing. “I wish there was something I could do, Mr. Ferreira.”

  “It’s not right. He can’t get away with this.”

  “Mr. Ferreira, I can only try to imagine how you must feel. But I know what it feels like to lose someone. I know how powerless you feel. How angry. You want revenge. I didn’t know Danielle, but it’s obvious she loved you very much.” Magson held the man’s eyes with his. “Danielle wouldn’t want you to do something stupid.”

  Daniël Ferreira looked away. “I have to go back to work. But I don’t have the energy.”

  “Let me give you a number. It’s a trauma counselor. Go and talk to her, Mr. Ferreira. You need help dealing with this sort of thing. You can’t do it on your own.”

  One of the more promising tips had come from a woman employed at the Buffeljags River BP outside Swellendam. She was convinced that she had sold a cooldrink to Danielle on Friday. The reason she remembered Danielle was because the girl had made an unusual comment about the flowers they used to brighten the washing-up area in the bathroom. According to the woman, Danielle had
said it was “nice that there are still people who just want to make something beautiful for someone else.” It had made an impact on the woman due to the cynical undertone. The girl had also had a “look,” her eyes were dull and “slow;” she hadn’t smiled at all. After the report in the paper, she now wondered whether Danielle hadn’t been trying to tell her something.

  It made sense. That BP was a popular petrol station and resting spot for long-distance travelers. Magson had stopped there for petrol himself, sometimes just to stretch his legs or use the restrooms, on their way to Oudtshoorn to visit Emma’s sister. But what really added to the potential of this information was the fact that, unlike the majority of tips, this one could be verified.

  Because petrol stations had security cameras.

  Magson looked at the photos of the blonde girl who had now joined the others on the wall in the operational room. The same photo that had been in the newspaper—a smiling, vibrant Danielle. And the photo of her body next to the Vissershok Road—a wet, dead Danielle.

  Four dead girls now.

  Magson typed Ronel Volschenk’s number into his cellphone. He was restless.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Volschenk. It’s Warrant Officer Magson. Have you decided how long you will be staying yet?”

  “No. We’d like to get Odette back at home, try to get things more normal for her, but we still have to complete the arrangements to take Danielle to George. And the thing with the letter. I don’t understand why she would write such things.”

  “Mrs. Volschenk, have you considered the possibility that it might be the truth?”

  “No. Bruno is a good man. He’s always been a good father to Danielle. Took care of her as if she were his own. He would never do such a thing.”

  “Have you had any contact with her father?”

  “Yes, he was here. Fortunately, Bruno had gone to buy a few things. Daniël wanted to know whether I’d spoken to the police yet. Whether I would testify against Bruno. He was furious when I told him I have nothing to say against Bruno.”

  “Mrs. Volschenk, I think you should consider staying somewhere else for the remainder of your time here.”