Diamonds in the Shadow (29 page)

It might have looked like a perfect hiding place—a deserted marina in the middle of winter—but the sea would have eaten the bottom out. The hole would go all the way through. The diamonds were probably long gone, sucked out by a violent tide.

A fierce gust of wind tossed slush onto Alake's face and arms. There was no sign that she noticed. She kept going.

So a person thinking about diamonds thought of nothing else.

I don't know Alake after all, thought Mopsy. I made her up to fit what I wanted in a sister.

Victor was breathing hard. His eyes were glued to Alake.

Victor is wrong that nobody will know he's masquerading as a father with a daughter and a puppy, thought Mopsy. I'll know. I'll tell the police everything. I even memorized the license plate number.

Victor glanced back at Mopsy, realized she was dawdling and grabbed her by the face, the way he had grabbed Alake in the kitchen.

Mopsy saw how true it was, that she was young for her age. Victor would not leave her alive to tell.

Alake was only a few feet from the end of the rocks when she found the hole. A narrow chink, just wide enough for a hand. She swallowed her terror of the icy unknown and stuck her arm down.

She felt nothing. She pulled her arm back out and shifted
position, sliding hideously closer to the edge. The water slurped eagerly. Wind like a jackal's teeth bit her wet arm. She tried from another angle.

“I've found the box!” she shouted. “But it's frozen to the bottom. I can't get it free.” She put her eye to the hole. “Your arm is longer.”

“You first,” Victor told Mopsy, letting go of her face.

Mopsy knew how deep the water was. If Mopsy slid off, she would drown in her own town at her own beach while her own personal refugee looked for diamonds.

Alake, who was not Alake.

Because Victor had killed the real one.

Mopsy dropped to a crawl. Victor didn't do anything because he was struggling with his own balance. He dropped the gun in his pocket to have both hands free.

Alake crouched over her diamond hole, scrabbling for what mattered.

Three people were out on the breakwater. Jared saw them clearly.

The man Mattu said was Victor.

Alake.

And Mopsy.

What could they be doing there? What could they possibly want out there? What kind of insanity—

Jared leaped out of Daniel's car, screaming and waving.

The man called Victor turned to look. He put his hand in his pocket. There was something athletic about his stance—a sort of readiness to make a play. His hand, when he withdrew it from his pocket, looked oddly lengthy.

He will be armed
, Mattu had said.

Alake stood up.

Jared was running toward them, ice or no ice.

But bullets travel faster than humans.

Victor could kill Mopsy. He could kill Jared. He could hit Mattu and Daniel. He could do it in moments. It was his skill.

Alake's plan had not yet failed. She could still carry it out.

Alake thought about her family, these Americans who had welcomed her and asked for nothing in return. She thought about God, and there was time to pray.

Let me be good, just once. Let me atone.

She thought about the poem Tay had read, with its promises to keep.

She had not had time to make promises, but she would keep them anyway.

She stepped forward.

She wrapped her arms around Victor and flung herself sideways into the sea, taking Victor with her.

The sound of sirens filled the air.

Daniel shouted into his cell phone, guiding the police.

Jared gathered his bleeding little sister in his arms.

Mattu caught up.

But where Alake and Victor had been, there was nothing, not even a hole in the slush. Invisible waves beneath the icy lid of winter had already closed it up.

In the end,
Alake
had been the precious gem.

Alake had been willing to lay down her life. Silent, unloved Alake, who had had but one taste of joy—a few days with a puppy—calmly, and without fanfare, had given her life for her friends.

Jared was such an American. Built into the soul of Americans was the desire to help. They didn't always help wisely or well, but they did always leap into the water to try.

“You hold on to Mopsy,” said Jared fiercely to Mattu. “No matter what, you keep my sister safe.” Jared slid into the water. It was so cold he couldn't open his eyes; so cold he was out of air and strength in one heartbeat.

I'm going to die, thought Jared, and he knew just how stupid he had been, hurling himself into ice water, when one of his goals in life was Don't be stupid.

His flailing arm hit stone. The breakwater. He braced his feet against it and flung his arms outward, searching the slushy water.

God!
he prayed, which was all he had time for. He felt something soft and closed his hand on it.

The cold paralyzed him. He could not pull himself or it to the surface.

God.

A particle of strength returned. Jared kicked upward.

Whose body do I have? he thought. What if I have the killer and not Alake?

Dull, careful Daniel was also an Eagle Scout who kept valuable things like rope in the trunk of his car. He made a large loop, tossed it to Jared and was hauling him up as the police cars arrived. To Mattu, Daniel said, “You explain this to the police. I'll back up whatever you say. Certainly
I
don't know what's going on. You got secrets to keep, Mattu, this would probably be the time to keep them.”

They put Mopsy in the first ambulance.

They stripped Jared's wet clothes off and popped him on a stretcher next to his sister.

They put the survivor in the second ambulance.

They had to wait a while for a third ambulance, but that was all right, because the dead are good at waiting.

They didn't keep Mopsy in the hospital, just pumped her full of antibiotics and gave her codeine for the cuts and bruises, then sent her home. Mopsy slept and slept, and when she awoke the first time, her mother and father were sitting by her bed, and nothing that had happened in her house or out on the breakwater seemed possible or real. When she woke up the second time, Celestine was there.

Mopsy said sleepily, “So who is everybody, really?”

Celestine seemed puzzled. “We are Amabos. We met that man Victor on the plane, you know, and were afraid of him. Here, look what I have for you. A bowl of ice cream, nice and soft, just the way you like it.”

Mopsy sat up.

“I have just come back from our new apartment,” said Celestine, who had always been good at changing the subject. “It was small and dirty, but the church volunteers scrubbed while I was at work, and now the apartment is still small, but it is very clean.”

Mopsy took the ice cream. “You know what, Celestine? I'll miss you.”