Strong Medicine (22 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

It took me almost an hour to get all the way out to Boksburg. I drove my Uno hard, weaving in and out of traffic, flashing my headlights at anyone doing less than 120 in the fast lane. By the time I found the house, I had bitten the nail on my right thumb all the way down to the quick. A trickle of blood seeped out, and the finger was sharply sensitive to touch.

I drove past the house slowly, then turned around and came back again.

Bongani Zulu’s property fronted a busy street. It was a smallholding, with the white-painted house built close to the road. A tangle of unkempt gardens surrounded the house; brown grass and wilted plants dropped leaves onto the driveway and into a murky green swimming pool.

Further back from the road was a pair of make-shift pastures. One held a collection of goats and the other had half a dozen sheep cropping dry grass from the red soil. Behind the pastures was an outbuilding, probably servants’ quarters. Three steel doors had been painted brown, faded newspaper blocked out the windows, and bricks lay on the corrugated iron roof to hold it down in a storm.

A hen crossed the yard between the house and the sheep pen, followed by three scruffy chicks.  

Similar plots lined both sides of the street. Some held cows, some the ragged stumps of this year’s corn crop. Each a mini-farm in its own way. Only this one had sun-bleached skulls perched on the wall posts. They looked like dog skulls, but had huge canines that stuck over the edge of the jaw bones. What were they for? Some kind of ritual protection?

I spotted a blue gum on the verge next to a plot further down the street. I steered my car over the curb and parked in the shade beneath the scraggly branches.

From this angle I could see the metal security gate on Bongani Zulu’s property, and one wall of the house. It was deserted, just another smallholding on the outskirts of Boksburg. I had no way of knowing if Lindsey was in there, or even if it was the right house. My only option was to wait and watch.

If this was the right place, I could end this nightmare right here. But what I find might be worse than the severed limbs and hanging entrails that I had seen in emails and newspaper clippings. Those scare stories were my reality now.

How much damage had Zulu done to Lindsey since he had taken her? My throat tightened and I pushed the imaginary severed heads out of my mind.

My own family thought it was too late, that she was already dead. Should I even be out here? The spirits that spoke to me in my visions said she was still alive. I couldn’t tell Besta and Thomas about the spirits, they’d never believe me. Hell, I barely believed it. Still, there was something about the way the visions made me feel. I couldn’t deny that they were powerful.

A silver Mercedes with black tinted windows pulled into the driveway of Zulu’s house. Two men got out. They had matching bald heads, sunglasses covered their eyes, and each had a pistol in a holster on his hip. One of the bodyguards slid the heavy steel gate open and the car drove inside. They pulled it closed again and followed it in.

Was the gate broken? That was lucky. But those two armed guards were a big problem. I wouldn’t be able to take them on alone. I’d be dead before I took two steps past the gate.

“Shit.” I gripped the steering wheel and the tendons on my hands stood out, white against my pale skin.

I would have to get help. There was only one person I could think of who might help me. I started my car and drove back down the road towards a shopping center I’d passed on my way. There would be pay phones in the mall, and I knew Detective Brits’s number by heart.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

I lifted the coffee mug to my lips and swallowed a luke-warm splash of bitter fluid. My stomach turned at the smell of greasy hamburgers and chips. It wasn’t hunger that writhed within me. The fake leather chair stuck to my back, while the sound of a dozen children echoed out of the plastic jungle gym behind me. It doesn’t matter where you go. All these little diners are the same. Cheap, a little grungy, and too loud.

Movement by the front door caught my attention. Detective Brits pushed through the glass door. He had the look of an approaching thunderstorm. His face was dark with anger, and he moved with menacing determination towards my table. The chair opposite me squealed when he sat in it. He bumped the table and sent a splash of coffee over the lip of my cup to spread across the white Formica table.

“You’re insane, you know that?” Detective Brits ran his hand through his thinning hair and tugged at the ends. “How did you even find out where he lives?”

“I used my feminine charms.”  I dabbed at the spilled coffee with a paper napkin, it soaked through and wet my fingers. “I’ve been to his house, seen the skulls on the wall.”

“What were you thinking coming out here?” Brits slammed his fists on the table and an elderly couple at the table across the aisle looked at us.

“I was thinking I’d get my daughter back. You keep acting surprised. Like I haven’t told you that’s what I’m going to do.”

“I’m going to have to arrest you if you go in there. If they don’t kill you first. You don’t know these people like I do, Erin.”

“That’s exactly why you should come with me.” I knew it was a long shot. Brits had already tried to catch Zulu before. He knew better than anyone how dangerous the man was.

“Go with you?” Brits asked, a strained laugh dancing at the edge of his words. “No, you’re not going back there.”

“I am. You can either come with, or you can stay here. You’re not stopping me.”

“Just calm down for a minute.” Brits held his hands out. “Think about what you’re planning here. You’re alone and unarmed. You have no idea of the place you’re going in to.”

“I have to try.” I slammed my fists on the table, causing my cutlery to jingle against the plate. More people shot us curious, accusatory glances. “Wouldn’t you want to do something if this was your child? Your son?”

Brits’s face turned bright red and he glared at me, his eyes hard, and the skin tight around them. “It was my son,” he whispered.

His shoulders dropped, the anger he’d carried into the restaurant faded. It was flushed out of him by the old memories of the child he’d lost. The skin around his eyes tightened, and his mouth twisted in anguish.

My heart turned into a ball of ash in my chest. I would not let Lindsey die the way Brits’s son had. I wouldn’t carry his burden for the rest of my life. I’d rather die.

“Then you know how I feel,” I said. “Better than anyone else could. We finally have a chance to put a stop to this monster. How many other children has he killed over the years?” I tried to catch Brits’s eyes but he was staring at his fists on the table. His knuckles were white and tendons strained against the skin of his hands and arms.

“Hundreds,” his voice was barely a whisper.

I hadn’t expected an answer, certainly not such a huge one. I forgot what I was going to say next. My mouth hung open between words. My gaze fell to the pile of chips on my plate.

“You remember the bunny I told you about?”

Detective Brits nodded.

“I have a picture of her with it.”

I fumbled the creased photo out of my pocket and smoothed it out on the table between us. Lindsey. Blond hair in pigtails, blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight, and a huge smile plastered on her face.

I turned the photo towards Brits.

“I took this photo on her first day of grade two. We went to Gold Reef City the December before. She won every toy in the ring-toss stand, gave them all away to kids walking past. Except this one.”

“We have to end this,” Brits said.

A waitress stopped at the table, a fake smile plastered across her face. “Need anything else?” she asked.

“Just the bill,” I said. I waited for the waitress to move on, and then pushed my argument. “I’m leaving now. You can come with, or let me go. The choice is yours.”

Brits sighed, put his head in his hands and breathed slowly in-and-out. When he looked at me again I could see tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I can’t go with you. I would lose my job, my family. But I won’t stop you.”

I looked into Brits’s eyes, searching for the kernel of the man he had been, before his son was taken from him, before he’d lost everything. There was nothing there. Even the anger had fled, leaving an empty, hopeless shell.

I almost called him a coward. Adriaan Brits wasn’t a coward, he was a broken man. I would have to do this alone.

I dropped a twenty rand note onto the table and walked out of the restaurant.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

The sun sat low on the horizon by the time I made it back to Bongani Zulu’s house. Pedestrians thronged the streets, most of them working men in blue overalls. The air rang with rumbling engines and laughing voices of the men walking up the street. A thin haze of dirt kicked up around their feet, floating above the dirt sidewalk like a winter fog.

I parked under the same blue gum and watched Zulu’s house. A group of children laughed and shouted in the garden in front of me. They cast a few curious glances my way, and then went about their game. Their parents would shit bricks if they knew how close their children were to a monster like Zulu.

I was happy to wait. The sense of power and assurance I’d felt in the Wimpy had fled, leaving me feeling like a scared child waiting outside the principal’s office. I knew I was in for a lot of pain, I just didn’t know how much, or when it would strike.

Headlights flashed across my face as cars drove past me. I tried to stifle the spike of fear that hammered into my chest each time.

After half an hour, a car pulled up outside Zulu’s gate. Two men came out of the house with a child between them. One of them was older, greying. It was hard to tell at this distance, but my heart was certain.

“That’s him.” The words came out hardly more than a whisper.

Bongani Zulu bent down and hugged the child. He planted a kiss on her head and waved at the person in the car. The other man slid the gate open and the little girl ran out, climbed into the car, and they drove away.

That was the second time they’d opened the gate manually. The motor was almost certainly broken. I could go in through there if I had to, or out if I was in a hurry. There were no dogs on the property either. I’d have seen them by now if there were.

I waited until the sun set, then drove slowly past the house. The kitchen light was on and an old woman moved around packing dishes into the eye-level cabinets. I couldn’t see any security cameras or anything like that. For someone so powerful, Zulu sure didn’t take his security seriously.

I drove around the block, and then parked next to an oak tree on the verge next to the road. The wall around Zulu’s property was only six feet tall. I climbed up onto the roof of my car and hoisted myself up onto the wall. It was a narrow, cast-concrete wall with panels about a meter and a half wide supported by concrete pillars. The rough concrete dug into my hands and scraped at my thighs.

I came face-to-face with the leering skull on the wall post as I threw my legs over the top and dropped down into the bushes on the other side. Its hollow eye sockets held a spider web that glowed softly in the evening light. A collection of insect corpses littered the concrete around the skull.

Leaves crunched and twigs snapped beneath me and I froze. I stared at the house, my heart trying to break out of my chest and a sheen of sweat cooling on my forehead. Nothing moved, no security lights snapped on, no dogs barked. They hadn’t noticed me.

I surveyed the garden. A paved driveway led from the broken gate to the double garage doors, an old Mazda stood there, one back wheel flat. A small fountain bubbled between the driveway and the front door. It was the kind of cheap concrete statue you could buy at Builders Warehouse; a naked cupid peeing into a series of size-graded bowls. There were probably a million of them in gardens all over Joburg. I stifled the urge to groan.

The front door had a heavy slam-lock security gate mounted in front of it, but the windows didn’t have bars in them. The curtains were all drawn, and lights burned behind all but one.

I edged along the wall, keeping as much of the flowers and bushes between me and the house as possible. Each tiny crack and crunch under my boots sounded like thunder to my ears. There were no alarms, though, so I kept going. Towards the outhouses behind the animal pens.

If I were holding a child prisoner, I’d keep her there. Close enough to be under my control, but far enough away that she wouldn’t disturb my family.

Out of sight of the front door, I looked around for cameras or other security measures and didn’t see any. I brushed the branch of a lemon tree aside and stepped out onto the lawn. The dry grass crunched under my shoes. I’d be completely exposed to anyone who cared to look while I headed for the outbuildings. At least there I would be able to cling to the shadows for cover.

I ran as fast as my legs would take me. My heart hammered at my chest wall, I gasped for breath. My legs shook so hard they threatened to pitch me onto my ass. A sheep bleated in the darkness to my left. Another stomped a hoof in the dirt.

Lindsey was here somewhere, really close by. Her presence pulled on my chest like a hook in a fish’s gills.

The rough brick wall of the outbuildings caught on my tracksuit top. I could just make out the three metal doors, and three small windows. Each of the windows was papered closed with newspaper so I couldn’t see inside the rooms.

I’d have to try the doors.

The metal door handles chilled my skin as I twisted them. They turned quietly in my hand, like a whisper in the dark. Someone kept these doors well oiled. The first door was locked, so I moved on to the second. The handle turned with a slight click. I pulled on the door but it caught up solid against the lock.

A spring creaked behind the door.

I froze, my hand still on the handle. Was that Lindsey? My chest ached and I fought the urge to kick the door, to slam on it with my fists. Instead I pressed my ear against the metal and listened.

There it was again.

Old bed springs squeaked together as someone moved on them.

“Lindsey?” I whispered against the door. There was no answer from the other side. “Lindsey, is that you? It’s mommy.”

The springs squealed and shrieked now. A series of thumps echoed through the door. She was there. My baby girl was there. Alive. Awake. Moving.

I looked over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being watched. The garden was empty, the house quiet.

My hands trembled and my shirt stuck to the sweat that sprung up on my back. I pulled on the door one more time, knowing it wouldn’t suddenly open. It didn’t.

The window was my only choice. I moved over to the newspaper-covered window and pressed my hands against the glass, then put my head against them. The newspaper blocked my view of the room completely.

I had to get in there. The window frame was made of two sections. One had a handle and hinges on the inside. If I could open it, I could fit in through the window. It would be a tight squeeze, but I could do it.

I searched the ground close to the building and found a small rock. I tapped it against the window pane, just behind the handle. If the whole window shattered it would bring Zulu’s armed guards running. I needed to make a small hole, just big enough to slip a few fingers through.

I tapped the glass harder and harder until a web of cracks spread through the window with a brittle creaking sound that made my back teeth ache. It was perfect. The newspaper, glued to the window on the inside, held the shards together. A few more knocks with the rock and I could fit my fingers through the glass. I hooked the handle and opened the window.

#

The stench hit me like a brick between the eyes. As the window swung open, the smell billowed out in a putrid tide. It was shit and blood and vomit all mixed together. I gagged, turned away from the open window and tried to control the wild spasms in my gut.

Was that stink coming from Lindsey? Dear God, what condition was she in?

As soon as I was in control again, I stepped up to the window and peered in to the darkness beyond. There was just enough light to make out the bed on the opposite wall. A bucket sat next to the bed, and a wooden stool stood next to the doorway. A twisted form writhed on the bed. Thin arms and legs had been bound with rope and secured to the metal legs.

“Lindsey?” My voice caught in my throat as I spoke her name. The person on the bed lay perfectly still for a moment, then her chest started heaving and she made a strangled choking cough.

Tears ran down my cheeks. My legs went numb and my vision narrowed to a single point, my baby girl stretched out on the bed in this prison. I shook my hands to try and steady them, and then placed them on the window sill. It was just below shoulder height, I would have to haul myself up and into the room. I jumped, kicked at the wall, strained against my own weight, overbalanced and tipped into the dark room. My legs flew out behind me and I pitched forward, sprawling on the rough floor.

My cheek burned, I raised my fingers to the tender spot just below my cheekbone and it came away bloody. A small price to pay.

I pushed myself up onto my feet and inched closer to Lindsey. It was her. Pale skin glowed in the moonlight that found its way through the open window. She was naked, but for a blindfold and gag in her mouth. Her right hand was bandaged, her left arm bent at a sickly angle that made my blood boil.

“What have they done to you baby girl?” The bedsprings squealed as I dropped onto the thin mattress beside her. I pressed my cheek to hers, the warmth of my blood spreading between us. My lips found her chin, her nose, her forehead. “I’m here now. I’ll get you out of here.”

Tears filled my eyes and poured down my cheeks. The world became a dark blur, swirling and twisting behind the tears. My fingers found the edges of the blindfold and I pushed it away from her eyes. The cloth was too tangled in her hair for me to free it completely. I wiped at my tears, then at hers.

“I’m here.” I pulled the sodden gag from her mouth and discarded the moldy scrap of fabric on the floor. “I’ll get you out of here.”

My fingers fumbled at the ropes that held her to the bed. I tried not to look at the bloody bandage and twisted arm. There would be time for healing later. I pulled at the knots in the ropes, working the bonds free. Once her legs were free, I moved on to her arms.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Lindsey whispered between gritted teeth as I loosened the ropes on her arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home.”

“Oh my baby.” I looked up from her right wrist, smoothed a clump of greasy hair back from her forehead and kissed the grimy skin there. My lips came away salty. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”

“He’s going to come soon, Mama.” Her voice cracked and her frail body trembled. “He always comes after dinner.”

“We’ll be out of here soon. I promise. Nobody’s going to hurt you anymore.”

“Hurry, Mama.”

I eased the ropes over the bandages on her right hand and started undoing the knots on her left wrist. Even the tiniest movement made her flinch and gasp in pain.

“We’ll go straight to hospital and have your arm seen to.”

Lindsey nodded, her voice lost to the pain in her arm. Finally she was free and I scooped her up off the bed.

My heart lifted as I held her. I had her. She was in my arms. Alive. The nightmare was almost over. I just had to get her out of the outbuilding, across the garden and over the wall. But I didn’t have to go over the wall. I could take her through the broken front gate. It would be dangerous, more exposed, and we’d have to pass closer to the house.

I swallowed my fear and carried Lindsey over to the window.

“Do you think you can stand on your own when I lower you out there?” I asked.

Lindsey nodded weakly. She lay still in my arms, weak from lack of food. Her wrists and ankles were ringed in scabs and sores from the ropes. Yellow crusts ringed her eyes. She didn’t look strong enough to stand, but even if she fell on her ass, at least she’d be outside.

“Okay, get ready.” I hoisted her up to the window frame. Her body went rigid and she started breathing heavily. Fear washed off her in acrid waves.

“He’s coming,” she whispered.