Chapter 2
Cas
It’s pure instinct that brings me to the motel opposite the bar in Victoria Falls. The only guarantee I have that Ian Hart may be here is that it’s Christmas day, the anniversary of my official death.
Yes, the anniversary of my baby’s death, but I try not to think about her—I think of our baby as a girl—so much these days. The pain is too brutal. It distracts me from my goal of tracking Ian, which is no easy task.
The gang split up. From what I could gather, Ian retired. He’s no longer robbing casinos and jewelry vaults. Like me, he’s been moving around. He’s been spotted in the northwest province of South Africa, Mozambique, and Angola, but never in Zimbabwe. I don’t know what became of Leon and Ruben, the other two gang members, and I don’t care. Ruben pulled the trigger, but he acted on Ian’s command. Anyway, it’s not Ruben I loved. My business is with Ian. Ruben is a goal for later.
Tonight, Ian may or may not be here. It’s a gamble. He came to the bar after the funeral, probably to celebrate his victory. He’d gotten rid of me successfully. I was a task ticked off on his list. I don’t dare ask at the lodge or interrogate the villagers. We made a pact when I left not to speak again. They saved me, but they’re loyal to Ian. They were willing to help me because of what he did, but now we’re even. If I ever go back, I can’t count on them not to tell on me. The gates of his property are still guarded and the fences patrolled. I do have a backup plan for getting inside, but I’ll have less people to fight if I can find him alone.
Loud singing coming from outside draws my attention to the grubby window of the motel room. A few drunk men are making their way across the parking of the bar on the opposite side of the road. With their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, they stumble to the corner of the lot where the taxis are parked. People with families are home tonight, drinking ginger beer around Christmas trees with sparkling lights and gifts wrapped in red paper and pretty bows. People with no one get drunk. People with no one go to the bar to forget they have no one and hope to get laid.
No new vehicles are parked in the lot. I’ve been keeping an eye on the bar since dusk. If he doesn’t show up by eleven, I’ll spend the night in the motel and summon the microlight pilot to land me on Ian’s property tomorrow. I’ll sneak up to the bungalow and surprise him if he’s there. The pilot, who’s offering tourist rides over the falls, will wait to fly me back to town. It’s a good plan, but one I’ll implement only if all else fails. The idea of going back to the lodge tightens my chest. Already being back here, in town, unsettles me. It’s not easy.
I push down the memories and turn my face toward the chipped mirror on the wall. The woman staring back at me has black hair styled into a short bob and green eyes thanks to contact lenses. My body is leaner these days, less soft and less curvy. The angles of my hipbones and shoulders are sharper, reflecting the hard edges of what’s inside. I’m wearing a tight, pink top and a black skirt that clings to my thighs. The hem of the top ends above my navel and the skirt barely covers my ass. It’s a slutty outfit meant to look cheap. Easy. It’s the kind of outfit that attracts men like bees to a honeypot. I spray on the perfume I got from the supermarket that smells like cotton candy. My makeup is dark, my lips glossy and red, and my eyelashes false. I look nothing like the old me. Tonight, I’m Cindy.
“Hey, honey,” I say, practicing my new accent. “Wanna dance?”
Yeah. That’ll do.
Taking a deep breath, I fill my lungs with the musty air. My hands are steady as I drop my gun, money, false ID, and pills into a sequined evening bag that’s shaped like a pair of pink lips with a red tongue sticking out. A pair of silver killer heels finishes off the outfit. I touch the bone pendant on the leather string around my neck, pressing a finger against the sharp tip of the river god’s coiled body before tugging it between my boobs under the top. The bite of pain grounds me.
Then I wait.
With a bit of luck, tonight Ian Hart’s fortune changes.
Chapter 3
Ian
It’s been a year. I haven’t been back to the lodge in Zimbabwe since the day I had a death certificate issued for her.