I heard a loud crack. Followed by a thud. Did the arrow make that noise as it cracked my heart?
But I still felt no pain. Maybe it was a crack of lightning? I opened my eyes. I saw no arrow sticking into me, but I did see the face I had been imagining. The one with the chestnut moustache. So I knew I was dead.
‘Maria,’ he said, kneeling down beside me, ‘are you all right?’
He put his hand on my forehead. The rain had stopped now but my face was still wet. I pushed myself up so I was sitting. I wasn’t dead. I was shivering like crazy.
‘I’m cold,’ I said.
My teeth were chattering so hard, I don’t know if he could hear me, but he got the idea. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off and wrapped it around my shoulders.
‘Get something warm,’ he said to Piet, who then ran off, up towards the house.
Van Wyk was lying on the ground in the river bed. Dead still. With a red stain spreading across his shirt.
‘You shot him,’ I said.
Kannemeyer helped me to stand up. His chest had that chestnut hair on it. He pulled me in, wrapped his arms around me. It reminded me of that time he had held Anna when she was fighting. I didn’t fight. He was warm, like freshly baked bread. My skin drank up his body heat, but I couldn’t stop shivering.
‘We’ve got to get you warm,’ he said.
He put one arm around me and helped me up the river bank. I turned to look back at Van Wyk.
‘He put me in a big fridge,’ I said. I was still shivering, but if I kept my mouth a bit open, my teeth did not bang together. ‘Jessie. I think he shot Jessie. With a bow and arrow. When she was on her scooter. He said . . . ’
We walked towards the house and Reghardt and Piet came running down to us. Piet had a big kudu skin that Kannemeyer wrapped around me.
‘Is Jessie here? Have you seen her?’ asked Reghardt.
His dark eyes were wet and his face was pale.
‘No. But I . . . ’ My tummy growled and I felt nauseous.
‘What?’ said Reghardt.
‘She was here. I saw her handprint in blood, and her initials on the floor. The fridge is full of dead animals. Hanging.’
‘Where? What are you talking about?’ said Reghardt.
‘Under the zebra skin. There’s a trapdoor. Stairs down to a big fridge.’
Reghardt started to head up to the house.
‘It’s locked,’ I said.
‘Check Van Wyk for keys,’ said Kannemeyer to Reghardt, who then ran down to the river bed.
‘There was a fight,’ said Piet. ‘With a pan. You hit him?’
I nodded.
‘He made me cook some fillet steaks, then he said . . . He said . . . He made it sound like the meat was Jessie. That we were eating her. There’s a steak on the kitchen floor. And on my plate.’
Piet shot up to the house.
‘We must get you in a hot bath,’ Kannemeyer said, as we got close to the stoep.
My belly twisted and groaned just looking at the house.
‘I’m not going back in there,’ I said.
Reghardt brought me a bunch of keys and I pointed out the long one for the freezer door. Detective Kannemeyer barked a list of instructions at Piet and Reghardt. Reinforcements, searches, ambulance.
‘I’ll be back now-now,’ he called over his shoulder as he led me to the police van. ‘Warrant Officer Snyman, phone Harriet Christie and tell her to head over to Tannie Maria’s house. Konstabel Witbooi, find those scooter tracks.’
The van was parked at an odd angle next to the car port that made reed-striped shadows on Van Wyk’s 4×4. Kannemeyer helped me into his van and tucked the skin around me. He didn’t ask for his shirt back.
Just as we were driving off, Piet came running up to us.
‘The steaks,’ he said. ‘I know that meat. It’s aardvark.’
My belly stopped groaning and went soft with relief.