Chapter 1

 

 

“What do you mean, ‘unaccounted for?’ What, like a check? Phillip is a human being, for heaven’s sake. Are you saying he’s missing?” Tabitha stared at Michael Waggener, the hospitality director at Kruger National Park. Tabitha bit her bottom lip. This was not how she had expected her travel writing assignments in South Africa to start.

Uncle Phillip hadn’t been at the airport to pick her up as they’d arranged. Phillip had come to Kruger National Park several weeks earlier to begin taking stock nature photographs and to start on the shots they would need for her articles. This was the break she needed in her writing career, and Uncle Phillip knew that better than anyone. He was the only person who encouraged her freelancing. Everyone else wanted her to get a normal job again, a “real” job. She knew something important must have kept him from coming to meet her.

He was only technically her uncle. He had been Aunt Rose’s third husband—briefly. Rose went through men like bars of soap. But the family had always liked Phillip and stayed in touch with him. He’d never remarried, and perhaps still carried a torch for Aunt Rose. Where could he be “unaccounted for” in Africa?

Waggener was a broad white man with lots of brown hair and a cowboy-size mustache. He sat behind a taupe metal desk in a circa 1970s office with aqua drapes and black vinyl chairs. When she’d inquired about Phillip at the check-in, she’d been brought here. It was all very ominous and weird.

Waggener had found something interesting on his desktop that seemed to have his attention. The other man in the room, Souli, a slight black man who had touched his bicep lightly as a sign of respect when he shook Tabitha’s hand, now looked at his shoes.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded, not feeling as forceful as she made her voice sound. She straightened her orange scarf at her neck for reassurance. She could look confident even if she didn’t feel it.

Waggener glanced at Souli, then began, “It’s difficult, you see. I’m over housekeeping, and two days ago I received a phone call from Lower Sabie Camp. Someone had left their belongings, not just a chemise or a shoe, but what appeared to be everything. It was a Phillip Adkins on the reservation form. The bed hadn’t been slept in.” He looked around as if seeking something to help him make a point.

Waggener continued. “We are concerned for the safety of our guests at Kruger, but Mr. Adkins had paid only for two days. This was the third, and we needed the room. I had his things moved to a bin here and called Souli, as head of the rangers, to look for Mr. Adkins.”

Souli took up the story. “I found his bakkie; you call them trucks, I think. It was off the road in the bush. This is strictly forbidden, for the guests to get off the marked roads. You must stay on the marked roads and return to the camps by six o’clock this time of year. We thought perhaps you could tell us what he was doing here, and we would know better how to look for him.”

“Look for him?” Tabitha felt like her brain was made of peanut butter. “He was here doing nature photography.” The words felt lame in her mouth.

“Would he have gone camping in the bush or backpacking into the remote areas? Was he looking for a particular animal? We would know an area to look for him then, if for instance he was looking for white rhinos?” Souli leaned forward in his chair, his head only slightly higher than hers.

“No, no.” Tabitha ran a hand through her shoulder-length dark blond hair. “No. We were supposed to work on some travel stories together. He came early to take pictures and to set up interview times. I’m coming to do the interviews and articles. I’m supposed to write it up.” She chewed her bottom lip, and could hear her mother telling her to quit chewing her lip and talk. “What if he had a heart attack or something?” she said, fearful for Phillip. Being MIA didn’t seem to fit the faults that Aunt Rose laid at his door. He liked to spend his money on motorcycles and cameras rather than curtains and the fancy houses that Aunt Rose preferred. He didn’t arrive on time for family get-togethers, but he’d never disappeared and failed to show up again. Something was definitely wrong.

“We have canvassed the area around where we found the bakkie. I’m sure if he was ill, we would have found him.” Souli nodded as if to reassure her.

“So he has been missing forty-eight hours or so?”

Tabitha looked at the two men of two different races and backgrounds, each in their distinct way trying to tell her something she didn’t want to hear. They both looked away—Waggener out the window; Souli at a crack in the tile floor.

They both nodded.

“What do you believe has happened to my uncle?” she asked.

Waggener sat forward in his chair. “Your uncle?”

Tabitha nodded.

Waggener exchanged a glance with Souli. “We didn’t know he was your family. So sorry.”

“It is not normal for a person to go missing for very long in the park,” Souli added.

She drew a long breath. Say it. “Do you think my uncle is alive?” She looked at Waggener, who behaved as the senior authority in the room.

His light-colored eyes shifted to Souli, who gave a faint shrug.

“We won’t know until we find him.”

“I asked what you think.”

“Well, Ms. Cranz, this is a park full of wild creatures and predators. We don’t normally let people walk about unattended. If your uncle is still out there, he’s in grave danger.”