the kitchen. “Excuse me,” she said, leaving to stir the
nshima
.
“She knows something she’s not saying,” Zoe whispered to Joseph.
“Probably a lot of things,” he replied, “but we’re getting off track. We’re not here to talk about the girl’s mother.”
He waited until the woman sat down again and then took over the interview. “What did you do when you found out Kuyeya was gone?”
The woman blinked. “I talked to my daughters. I talked to people in the building.”
“Did you look for her on the street?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Where might she have been going?”
The woman shook her head. “Kuyeya is not like normal children. I don’t understand her.”
“Does she have friends down the street?”
“No. She usually stays in the back room.”
“Your cousin,” Zoe said, “does
he
have friends nearby?”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “He doesn’t know anything.”
By that you mean exactly the opposite
. “What does he do for a living?”
“The better question,” Joseph interjected, “is what sort of car does he drive?”
“He drives a jeep,” the woman said. “A red Toyota.”
“Do you know anyone who owns a silver SUV?”
The woman thought about this. “I don’t think so.”
At this point Joseph broke the news. “Kuyeya was raped. Do you have any idea who might have done it?”
The woman looked genuinely shocked. She stumbled over her words. “No, I … She never … How is she?”
“She’s recovering.”
The older of the woman’s daughters—Bright—approached shyly and spoke to her mother in Nyanja. She glanced at Joseph and Zoe and then returned to the kitchen.
“Would you like to join us for dinner?” the woman asked.
“No,” Joseph replied. “Will you be home tomorrow afternoon?”
She nodded.
“I’ll come back then.”
“She’s lying about her cousin,” Zoe said as soon as they were seated in Joseph’s truck. She studied his face in the darkness, wondering whether he would give her a window into his thoughts.
“She
is
lying about the cousin,” he said, putting the truck in gearand pulling onto Chilimbulu Road. “But not because he had anything to do with the rape. He’s probably a live-in boyfriend. I’d guess she’s also lying about her husband. I doubt she has one. She had no ring on her finger or pictures of a man around.”
“How do you know the cousin wasn’t involved?”
“I didn’t tell her about the rape until the end of the conversation. She had no reason to lie when she said he went with her to the market. She also had no reason to lie about his vehicle. As it happens, I saw a red jeep in the lot when we pulled in. It’s more likely that the girl—Kuyeya—wandered out on the street like the woman said.”
Zoe pursed her lips. “So we’re no closer to a suspect than we were before.”
Joseph glanced at her. “We’ll find out more tomorrow.”
“Can I come with you?” she asked eagerly.
He waited a beat before responding. “You have good instincts. And I need to talk to the neighbors. Perhaps you can ask Ms. Kuwema about the girl’s mother.”
“I thought she wasn’t relevant,” Zoe retorted with a grin.
He shrugged. “It would give you something to do.”
“Other than bothering you?”
“Precisely.”
Chapter 4
On Tuesday, Zoe left for work an hour early and took a circuitous route through Libala and Kabwata, following a hunch. She had slept poorly the night before, beset by dreams—half remembered, half imagined—of the young man in the bandana and his gang of hoodlums and of Priscilla Kuwema and the girl who had no family. When she woke again, she put the incident in Kanyama out of her mind and concentrated on the woman and the child. Something about the woman’s demeanor, about the man she had called her cousin and the back room where Kuyeya stayed, whispered of secrets buried just below the surface.
She drove slowly down Chilimbulu Road and pulled to the shoulder. At seven
nshima
.
“She knows something she’s not saying,” Zoe whispered to Joseph.
“Probably a lot of things,” he replied, “but we’re getting off track. We’re not here to talk about the girl’s mother.”
He waited until the woman sat down again and then took over the interview. “What did you do when you found out Kuyeya was gone?”
The woman blinked. “I talked to my daughters. I talked to people in the building.”
“Did you look for her on the street?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Where might she have been going?”
The woman shook her head. “Kuyeya is not like normal children. I don’t understand her.”
“Does she have friends down the street?”
“No. She usually stays in the back room.”
“Your cousin,” Zoe said, “does
he
have friends nearby?”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “He doesn’t know anything.”
By that you mean exactly the opposite
. “What does he do for a living?”
“The better question,” Joseph interjected, “is what sort of car does he drive?”
“He drives a jeep,” the woman said. “A red Toyota.”
“Do you know anyone who owns a silver SUV?”
The woman thought about this. “I don’t think so.”
At this point Joseph broke the news. “Kuyeya was raped. Do you have any idea who might have done it?”
The woman looked genuinely shocked. She stumbled over her words. “No, I … She never … How is she?”
“She’s recovering.”
The older of the woman’s daughters—Bright—approached shyly and spoke to her mother in Nyanja. She glanced at Joseph and Zoe and then returned to the kitchen.
“Would you like to join us for dinner?” the woman asked.
“No,” Joseph replied. “Will you be home tomorrow afternoon?”
She nodded.
“I’ll come back then.”
“She’s lying about her cousin,” Zoe said as soon as they were seated in Joseph’s truck. She studied his face in the darkness, wondering whether he would give her a window into his thoughts.
“She
is
lying about the cousin,” he said, putting the truck in gearand pulling onto Chilimbulu Road. “But not because he had anything to do with the rape. He’s probably a live-in boyfriend. I’d guess she’s also lying about her husband. I doubt she has one. She had no ring on her finger or pictures of a man around.”
“How do you know the cousin wasn’t involved?”
“I didn’t tell her about the rape until the end of the conversation. She had no reason to lie when she said he went with her to the market. She also had no reason to lie about his vehicle. As it happens, I saw a red jeep in the lot when we pulled in. It’s more likely that the girl—Kuyeya—wandered out on the street like the woman said.”
Zoe pursed her lips. “So we’re no closer to a suspect than we were before.”
Joseph glanced at her. “We’ll find out more tomorrow.”
“Can I come with you?” she asked eagerly.
He waited a beat before responding. “You have good instincts. And I need to talk to the neighbors. Perhaps you can ask Ms. Kuwema about the girl’s mother.”
“I thought she wasn’t relevant,” Zoe retorted with a grin.
He shrugged. “It would give you something to do.”
“Other than bothering you?”
“Precisely.”
Chapter 4
On Tuesday, Zoe left for work an hour early and took a circuitous route through Libala and Kabwata, following a hunch. She had slept poorly the night before, beset by dreams—half remembered, half imagined—of the young man in the bandana and his gang of hoodlums and of Priscilla Kuwema and the girl who had no family. When she woke again, she put the incident in Kanyama out of her mind and concentrated on the woman and the child. Something about the woman’s demeanor, about the man she had called her cousin and the back room where Kuyeya stayed, whispered of secrets buried just below the surface.
She drove slowly down Chilimbulu Road and pulled to the shoulder. At seven
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