murdered that night, maybe five hours before.
DT: How had he been killed?
BZ: He was cut in the throat. From here to here.
DT: Do you think the organs were taken by an inyanga ?
BZ: It was taken by someone who knew what he was doing. He knew how the body part was extracted. The doctor said it was done by a big knife probably. There were no injuries, the genitals were taken clean. One cut. One cut.
DT: Why do you think this happened?
BZ: It’s for muti . For ceremonies. Or something like that.
DT: Were you involved in the murder?
BZ: No, I had nothing to do with it. Why do you think every muti murder was me? Hey?
DT: You have a record, Mr. Zulu. We know you’ve done these things before. The boys in the forest. You killed them. You could have done this one too.
BZ: This one wasn’t me.
DT: You know this murder is still unsolved? How many years now since Moremi was killed? Nearly twenty.
BZ: People die in the villages every year. They are killed for muti , or for cheating on a lover, or for stealing cows. The cops don’t solve their cases. Nobody cares about them.
DT: Do you care, Mr. Zulu? Do you really care about Simphiwe Moremi?
BZ: Yes, I do. He was my friend.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lindsey blinked out the sunlight as the man pulled the cloth sack away from her.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, but with the panties in her mouth it came out muffled and slurred. She couldn’t even understand herself.
The man with the yellow eyes leaned in close to her and breathed in her face. His breath stank like vrot food.
“Shut up,” Yellow Eyes said. Little drops of spit fell from his lips when he spoke, sprinkling down on her cheeks like rotten spring rain.
Lindsey’s eyes prickled with tears and she tried not to let them out, but her vision blurred and she felt the hot liquid running down into her ears.
The men leaned over, wrapped their dry hands around her ankles and wrists, and hefted her out of the wheelbarrow. They were in a little clearing in the pine trees. A white car stood in the shade, the boot open, waiting for her like the mouth of a hungry shark.
“No, no, no!” Lindsey twisted and kicked at the men. She mustn’t let them put her in the car. The men grabbed her tighter, wrapped their arms around her, and shouted at her to be quiet.
She couldn’t. She mustn’t. Her skin was wet with sweat and her chest ached.
She could remember being afraid on the first day of school, her hands were damp all day. She’d cried and cried when her mommy left her in the class, with a too-happy teacher and all the other children crying for their mommies.
She would do that a hundred times over if it would save her from these men.
She turned her head and bit the nearest thing she could find. Yellow Eyes yelled and dropped her, clutching at the wet tooth marks in his side.
Lindsey landed on her back, the air burst from her lungs, pushing the panties out of her mouth. The other man lost his grip on her legs as she dropped. She gasped for air and kicked at them. This was her last chance.
Dirt shot up into the man’s eyes as Lindsey scrabbled to her feet. She clutched her broken wrist to her chest and started running.
There were a lot of trees here. She’d never explored them before. Her mommy said it was too dangerous. Now she dodged broken branches and ran, as fast as she could, towards the sound of the cars going past on the road.
She’d never been really good at running, that’s why she played netball instead of doing athletics. She thought of mister De Villiers blowing his whistle and making the kids sprint down the soccer field as fast as they could. She almost always came last, but today the memory of that whistle made her pump her legs harder than she ever had during tryouts.
A blur of colour beyond the trees marked the road. It was so close she could smell the smoke from the cars. Someone drove past playing loud music, with base thumping in time to her
DT: How had he been killed?
BZ: He was cut in the throat. From here to here.
DT: Do you think the organs were taken by an inyanga ?
BZ: It was taken by someone who knew what he was doing. He knew how the body part was extracted. The doctor said it was done by a big knife probably. There were no injuries, the genitals were taken clean. One cut. One cut.
DT: Why do you think this happened?
BZ: It’s for muti . For ceremonies. Or something like that.
DT: Were you involved in the murder?
BZ: No, I had nothing to do with it. Why do you think every muti murder was me? Hey?
DT: You have a record, Mr. Zulu. We know you’ve done these things before. The boys in the forest. You killed them. You could have done this one too.
BZ: This one wasn’t me.
DT: You know this murder is still unsolved? How many years now since Moremi was killed? Nearly twenty.
BZ: People die in the villages every year. They are killed for muti , or for cheating on a lover, or for stealing cows. The cops don’t solve their cases. Nobody cares about them.
DT: Do you care, Mr. Zulu? Do you really care about Simphiwe Moremi?
BZ: Yes, I do. He was my friend.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lindsey blinked out the sunlight as the man pulled the cloth sack away from her.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, but with the panties in her mouth it came out muffled and slurred. She couldn’t even understand herself.
The man with the yellow eyes leaned in close to her and breathed in her face. His breath stank like vrot food.
“Shut up,” Yellow Eyes said. Little drops of spit fell from his lips when he spoke, sprinkling down on her cheeks like rotten spring rain.
Lindsey’s eyes prickled with tears and she tried not to let them out, but her vision blurred and she felt the hot liquid running down into her ears.
The men leaned over, wrapped their dry hands around her ankles and wrists, and hefted her out of the wheelbarrow. They were in a little clearing in the pine trees. A white car stood in the shade, the boot open, waiting for her like the mouth of a hungry shark.
“No, no, no!” Lindsey twisted and kicked at the men. She mustn’t let them put her in the car. The men grabbed her tighter, wrapped their arms around her, and shouted at her to be quiet.
She couldn’t. She mustn’t. Her skin was wet with sweat and her chest ached.
She could remember being afraid on the first day of school, her hands were damp all day. She’d cried and cried when her mommy left her in the class, with a too-happy teacher and all the other children crying for their mommies.
She would do that a hundred times over if it would save her from these men.
She turned her head and bit the nearest thing she could find. Yellow Eyes yelled and dropped her, clutching at the wet tooth marks in his side.
Lindsey landed on her back, the air burst from her lungs, pushing the panties out of her mouth. The other man lost his grip on her legs as she dropped. She gasped for air and kicked at them. This was her last chance.
Dirt shot up into the man’s eyes as Lindsey scrabbled to her feet. She clutched her broken wrist to her chest and started running.
There were a lot of trees here. She’d never explored them before. Her mommy said it was too dangerous. Now she dodged broken branches and ran, as fast as she could, towards the sound of the cars going past on the road.
She’d never been really good at running, that’s why she played netball instead of doing athletics. She thought of mister De Villiers blowing his whistle and making the kids sprint down the soccer field as fast as they could. She almost always came last, but today the memory of that whistle made her pump her legs harder than she ever had during tryouts.
A blur of colour beyond the trees marked the road. It was so close she could smell the smoke from the cars. Someone drove past playing loud music, with base thumping in time to her
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