Dele jumped to his feet, and Shakira recoiled. What did he mean to do to her? She had told him her decision to give up on finding Florence, and he could never imagine how tough the choice had been for her.
To have come this far only to give up was defeat on a personal level. She didn’t even know what she would return to. Would Deon be willing to forgive and forget? Could she? She would submit herself to a mental health facility because, on her own, she couldn’t bounce back, and she hoped to God she could get pregnant again. Move on; Fraser’s words resounded. She had to.
“You can’t. Can’t decide to go back home. Not now.”
He paced like a caged animal, his eyes wide. She didn’t care what he may think was at stake for him. She started all this, and she had to bring it to an end. She didn’t foresee a deception this huge, and if it was normal in Nigeria, it was criminal in America. She was desperate for justice, but not this much. She may not have had a deep religious upbringing, but she had a conscience.
She sighed. “I have, Dele, and you can’t change my mind. I miss my husband.”
“Let’s call him then. Call him every day. I will recharge your phone every day. You can’t go back.”
“I can. And I will. It was wrong of me to come here in the first place. And it is wrong of me to pretend to be what I am not.”
“What about your search? Will you just give up on it?”
She choked. “Yes, in the way I took it up. I will let law enforcement find the woman. My babies will never return, but my home, my family—I had a life, and I want to go back to it.” She folded her arms in resignation. “I’m sorry, Dele. I apologize for bringing you here, and I would do anything to correct my mistake. But I went too far.”
“So you will let the killer of your daughters go free? Probably return to America to kill more babies?”
His words hit below the belt, but she understood what he was trying to do, and she couldn’t fall for it. It was obvious he didn’t have a good life in his country, and he may never have defrauded anyone before, but to jump at the opportunity without regret spoke of the kind of person he was. Desperate didn’t begin to describe it, and she shuddered. Her father had always warned her about such people.
“They could kill you, Shakira. Stay away from them.”
It occurred to her she may have put herself in harm’s way by expressing her feelings.
“It hurts beyond reason,” she stammered. “Especially when I don’t know if she’ll ever be found.”
“Exactly.” He moved to her side of the bed and squatted. “Look at it this way. You are helping to get justice for your babies. At the same time, you are not hurting a fly by presenting yourself as a missionary. See all the churches in this country? It is a billion-dollar cow, and those men in collars are milking the life out of their members.” He took her damp hands in his. “Should we bet? Just in one or two nights, this small church will present half a million naira to us.”
Shakira considered his handsome face. The tilt of his lips made her feel insecure. What did he mean when he said he was a Lagos boy? Back in her home country, statements like this had meaning. Places in the country could be good or bad, and depicted a spirit. What did Lagos represent? Good or bad?
She withdrew her hands from his and clasped them in her lap. “I don’t think they have so much money.”
“Exactly. They don’t. But those pastors will make widows sell the property their husbands left for them. Listen, this is just like ripping off a thief. You have done no wrong.”
She shuddered. This man was more evil than she thought. It convinced her how urgently she needed to get away from him.
“You have to stay, Shakira. At least till we have enough.” He straightened. “If you are no longer interested in catching the criminal you came for, fine. But you stay till I am ready to leave.” He stomped out of the room.
She stared at her shaking hands. She was convinced more than ever she had to leave. She slid between the sheets and closed her eyes. Praying had never been a part of her family culture, especially not since Grandma Bea, but Shakira sucked in her breath and muttered the one prayer she could remember. Our Father, who is in heaven, hallowed be Your name, Your kingdom come…
—————
The lady from the church was awake and in the kitchen. Dele couldn’t remember her name.
She half-turned when he walked in, and curtseyed. “Good morning, sir.”
He raised his hand the way he saw men of God do. “Good morning, daughter of Zion. How was your night?”
“Fine, sir. We thank God.”
“Please, I need cold water for my wife. She had a rough night, you know. I think the environment is just not good for her.”
She opened a small fridge and placed a bottle of water on a tray, with a glass. “So sorry about this, sir.”
“What’s your name, again?”
“Veronica.”
“Sister Veronica. Hmm. Please, I will ask you not to disturb us. I’d like my wife to try and sleep. Maybe the water will help. Then I want to spend the morning praying.”
“Yes, sir.” She carried the tray.
“No, let me have it.” He took it from her. “Thank you.”
“What about breakfast?”
“I will let you know if we will have some or not, but if there’s a thermal flask, you can have hot water available for tea, or rather, coffee.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.”
He left her and returned to the room. Shakira was back in her fetal position, and her eyes were closed, but he guessed she wasn’t asleep. Her desire to return home had caught him unawares. They needed to plan the next few days or weeks, make sure they told the same lies.
To reduce the complications of their situation, they were childless for the sake of their ministry. There were other little details he wanted to tidy up as well, like his family history. Who knew, there may be one inquisitive person, someone who had genuine interest in serving God, or had the gift of discernment. Such people needed to be given the right answer. Instead, he had to make her stay.
How did he plan to achieve his purpose now that she seemed to have suddenly realized how foolish she was to embark on such a senseless venture alone?
He wasn’t a difficult or violent person. In his sisters’ words, he was laid-back and unmotivated. He had never laid a hand on a woman, but he’d seen fear in Shakira’s eyes, much as he hated to admit it. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him, but he couldn’t afford to let her leave either.
He placed the tray of water on a table in the room and sat. He needed to think and act. Whatever happened, Shakira could not buckle now when things may just as well begin to work for his good.
First he had to restrain her, physically, if need be. He locked the door and put the key in his pocket. It should not get to such, and he couldn’t afford an outburst of any kind. He searched and found her handbag just under the bed, at the edge. Stealing glances at her, he dragged the bag as quietly as he could to his side and removed the little money she had left, along with her passport.
In the same way, he returned the bag to its previous position. Her cell phone was on the floor beside the bag. He removed the battery and sim and kept it. He put the stolen stuff in his jeans pockets and knelt against the bed. He’d told Veronica he wanted some time to pray, and he meant it.