I bowed my head in thanks:
Thank you, Rain, for hiding her tracks.
Thank you, Life, for keeping her alive.
Thank you for showing us where to find her.
Tears were falling down my face when Hattie reached me and we hugged and cried together.
Then Candice joined us, stepping between the prickly plants in those heels of hers. Her legs were scratched and her face lined with dirt and tears, but when she smiled she was the most beautiful sight.
The ambulance got to Jessie before we could walk across the veld, and we saw Reghardt and Kannemeyer lifting her in. Reghardt got in too. A herd of mountain zebra galloped along the plain as the ambulance raced off, its wee-waaah wee-waaah tearing across the sunset sky.
We headed back to the cars, and Kannemeyer came to join us. We were smiling, but when we saw his face, we stopped.
‘What is it?’ I said.
‘I’m no doctor,’ he said, ‘but she is unconscious and it looks bad.’
A group of Seventh-day Adventists broke into prayer, and Hattie joined in with them. If there was a god, the Adventists and Hattie had his phone number, so I left them to it. I walked away and watched the darkening sky. The clouds were streaked with a deep red. I looked at the veld, soft in the evening light.
The sky and the land. I had prayed to them and they’d delivered. Could I still ask for more?
Should I not be doing some work myself? Helping Jessie get better. I was no doctor, but I was her friend. I let my heart fill with all the love I felt for her. My love was big and red like the sunset. It pushed out the worry and the fear in my chest. When my heart felt so full I thought it would burst, I sent all that love to her. I had her phone number. She would get my love.
There was a warm hand on my shoulder. It was Kannemeyer. But he turned and walked to his van before I could see his face. The searchers were back in the cars, waiting to go.
‘Oh, goodness,’ said Hattie. ‘Do you think she’ll . . . ?’
‘Turn on your lights,’ I said. ‘She’s a strong girl, our Jessie.’
We’d dropped the others off and it was just the two of us again, driving in her Toyota in the dark.
‘She may have lost a lot of blood . . . ’ said Hattie, hooting by mistake as she turned on her lights.
‘Slow down,’ I said.
‘She had injuries too. And maybe hypothermia— ’
‘Watch out!’
A kudu leapt across the road and Hattie swerved into a thorny bush.
‘Oh, jolly hockey sticks!’
She got us out of the bush and carried on driving at the same speed.
‘So, darling, what’s happening with you and the detective?’
‘Pasop! The gate!’
‘I see it, I’m not blind.’
I got out to do the gate and she reversed to give me space to open it.
When I got back in, she said: ‘I’ve seen the way you look at each other.’
‘I don’t know, Hats.’
‘He looks after you very nicely, I must say. I was wondering . . . did he run that bath for you?’
‘He has been very nice. But he’s just doing his job.’
‘I don’t suppose he’ll be camping at your house any more, now that . . . ’
‘No. No, he won’t.’
‘He’s a jolly good-looking chap.’
And he could do much better than me, I thought.
‘I’m too old for that kind of stuff,’ I said.
‘Never too old. Has there been no one since . . . Fanie?’
I shook my head. We were back on the tar road now, so the ride was a bit smoother. And although we veered around the road, thankfully there were no cars or animals.
‘Isn’t it about time . . . ?’ said Hattie.
‘Fanie put me off men.’
‘He was a rotter. Not all men are like that, you know.’
‘I know, I know. But my heart is kind of . . . closed.’
‘Give him a chance, Maria.’
‘We’ll see. Can you drop me at Dirk’s farm? My bakkie is there. Your indicator is on.’
She turned her indicator off, but switched her hazard lights on. I didn’t tell her. I think it was for the best.
Dirk’s house was dark.
‘I wonder where he is,’ said Hattie.
‘He might not be back yet, we drove here quite fast.’
‘Fast? Perhaps he’s with Anna. I wonder if they’re still working together to drive one car.’
‘Dankie, skat,’ I said and kissed her cheek.
‘I’m quite pooped, Maria. I’m sure you are too. Have something to eat and a rest. I’ll see you in the morning.’
She drove off, her hazards still flashing.
My blue bakkie was waiting patiently under the gum tree. On the passenger seat was my tin of rusks.
‘The Spar manager was the murderer,’ I told the rusks as we drove. ‘He nearly killed me, but Henk shot him. Dead. We found Jessie. Alive. But injured and unconscious. It could be bad. We are going to the hospital now. This time you lot are coming in with me.’