Authors: Judith Stephan
A farmhand had found her at first light on his way to fix a section of the wall that had toppled due to the frozen ground. She was tied awkwardly, but still breathing, although only shallowly. There was a faint smell of something chemical about her, and she had several bruises on her face and upper body. But she was alive. Nearly frozen, but alive. She had been left for dead and was miraculously still breathing. Hypothermic but definitely alive! Fiddlersbeck Police Department had summoned Scotland Yard who had directed Corbett to the site. There were not many clues, but the fact that this victim was still alive was surely not intentional. There were what appeared to be footprints, but they had been partially brushed away. Part of a heel was still visible, but not enough to indicate a make or size of shoe. The imprint told Corbett that the man probably had a weight of about 70 to 80 kilograms.
Bernice Standen, who had been identified by her frantic mother and rather quiet, dough-faced stepfather, was taken to the emergency room at St Anne’s. She was in a coma, with several injuries to the head, and partial hypothermia from spending the night in temperatures not exceeding two degrees. She had deep cuts in her wrists and ankles from the thick twine he had used to restrain her. Corbett went there straight from the crime scene. He had radioed in earlier to ensure that she was not to be cleaned as he wanted to check her for any sample of the assailant’s DNA… hair, skin, saliva, … maybe even semen. From the look of things, there had, unlike any of the other murders, been a bit of a struggle. The ground looked roughed up, she had been roughed up. Maybe this time there would be more clues.
CHAPTER 8
No matter how hard Stratt and Shilo tried, avoiding each other was impossible. At breakfast the next morning, there were stolen looks. That afternoon, they were thrust together in a tennis game as doubles partners against Dorianne and Philip. They kept on bumping into each other in the effort to get the ball, and apologising profusely for doing so. That night they were both in the bar in separate circles, and again there were lingering, rueful looks and feigned cheerfulness.
The following day the Americans left by road for the airport, so Stratt was gone for most of the day. At about four that afternoon, a helicopter landed and a group of new Taiwanese guests were shown to their rooms. At supper, Philip had invited Dorianne and the girls to sit with them at his table, and Stratt and Shilo ended up sitting across the table from each other. She kept on bumping his feet by accident under the table, then blushing. Their eyes kept on meeting, and their passionate rendezvous was remembered by both with knowing glances and guilty looks. Every time he spoke, she remembered his mouth on her body, his kisses, his caresses. She looked at his hands and remembered how those fingers had touched and fondled her, had given her ultimate pleasure. She remembered how exquisite and gentle his love making had been, how she hadn’t once been reminded of her traumatic encounter with Bill Moffat … how she had not been scared, but enjoyed it and was fulfilled with every cell of her body.
“What the hell is going on with you two?” Michaela had whispered in her ear, “you would think you were sleeping together.”
Shilo had blushed a deep scarlet, and had kept her eyes lowered to avoid meeting Stratt’s gaze. Shilo had been unusually quiet the whole meal, but Stratt was as chatty and as funny as ever. He was putting on a show for Shilo, and she was pretending not to notice. But she did, and at one point their eyes met again and she couldn’t tear them away, no matter how hard she tried. He looked deep into her soul and she felt a gushing of emotion. Then he winked playfully and she smiled.
It was very hard for her to act normally with this huge secret weighing on her soul. She needed to escape. Stratt left the room briefly to fetch something for Philip, and Shilo took the opportunity to discreetly feign a headache and retire for the night. As she was walking out of the dining room on her the way back to her room, she rounded a corner whilst fumbling for her room key in her purse. She walked flat bang into Stratt, and she gasped as he steadied her with his hands. The electricity between them was still there. They both apologized profusely and gave each other a rueful look, and then both apologized simultaneously again, before walking off in different directions. It had been clumsy and uncomfortable and Stratt had very nearly called the whole “avoidance” thing off.
That night Shilo’s headache began. A deep engrained pain right in the centre of her skull. No aspirin was going to shift it easily. She felt that her entire body was aching. And her sleep was restless as she surfaced intermittently with the throb of the headache.
…. She was splayed out on the hard barn floor. The weight of Bill Moffatt’s hefty bulk made it seem even harder and she felt her bones pressing into the cold cement. The hay stalks pricked her limbs mercilessly and she was unable to move. She was trying simultaneously to struggle free and deal with the revulsion of what was happening to her … his filthy, rough fingers; his drooling maw; his evil intentions …Fight or flight? As he fumbled with his zipper and braces, one of her hands was freed and she tried to use it to hit his back. He thrust it away and her hand hit the hay-covered floor with force. She groveled in the hay for something to hold on to, for some sort of leverage and suddenly her small hands touched something round, hard and smooth … like varnished wood. A handle. A handle of what? She clenched her fist tightly around it, knowing what she had to do. “Bash his head, and he’ll leave me alone,” she thought frantically. “Bash his head in!” She picked up the object, unable to discern its nature or make-up: It felt hard and firm and heavy, it was made of wood, and she knew if she hit it hard enough on Bill’s back or head, it would give her a chance, just the smallest chance to escape.
She lifted the object with difficulty and brought it down with full force, not aiming for any part of his body in particular, just for contact. It hit him unexpectedly on the back his head, and she saw his face lift and distort as he growled something unintelligible. His grip loosened, she struggled out from underneath him and clambered to her feet, and then she sprinted as fast as she could towards the patch of brilliant sunlight that was the barn door.
*
On Wednesday, Michaela needed to go into Nelspruit for a check-up, and Shilo asked Regan if he would drive them there. Regan had a game-drive planned with the group of Taiwanese. Philip was nowhere to be found. Stratt was the last resort, and so early in the morning she went in search of him. There was no answer when she knocked on the door of his room. He wasn’t anywhere in the main building, nor was he at the workshop where he sometimes tinkered on the engines of the game-viewing vehicles. He was nowhere to be found. She eventually found him doing lengths in the swimming pool. She stood for a few moments absorbing the Adonis beauty of his body as it cut through the clear blue water, muscles rippling in his legs and arms.
When Stratt approached the end of the pool, he saw a pair of high black sandals, neatly painted toenails and a pair of smooth, shapely legs. Shilo stood there bathed in the morning sunlight.
“Hi,” he said with a welcoming smile, as he wiped the chlorinated water from his green eyes, “Can’t you keep away from me?”
He shook his hair so that a spray of fine water droplets flew onto her shins.
“I’m sorry. I really tried to keep away, but I have a problem. A problem that only you can help me with. I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t urgent.”
He rested his chin on his hands and Shilo crouched down.
“Relax, it’s fine,” he said in a soothing voice. “You are still my guest and I am here to help with anything!”
“Michaela has an appointment in Nelspruit – you know, for a check-up. I’ve asked everyone but they’ve all got plans. Could you take us… please?”
“It would only be a pleasure,” he said, “just because we have agreed to cool our romance, does not mean that we cannot speak.”
He stuck his hand out. “Give me a hand out of here,” he asked, and while feigning to climb out, he suddenly and spontaneously jerked Shilo into the pool.
She shrieked as she hit the water, which was refreshingly cool, and she came up laughing.
He swam up to her and put his arms around her waist.
“This isn’t working either, is it?” he said as he stared into her eyes.
“What?” she asked.
“Trying to stay away from each other. I can’t do it for another minute. I’m like a fish out of water without you. I’ve been thinking about you every single minute of every single day. Last night at dinner, I was in hell knowing you were so close and I couldn’t touch you.”
“I know,” she said, standing up in the cool pool, “Me too.”
Her tee shirt, instantly transparent, clung to her slim figure over the soft curves of her breasts. His hands moved up to the erect nipples.
“On the tennis court the other day, every time we touched it nearly killed me. But last night while we had dinner was the worst: I had to keep on talking so that I would not spend the entire evening concentrating on you. Or thinking about the other night. I can’t even remember what the subject was. When I ran into you afterwards when you were going back to your room, it took every ounce of my will power not to drag you into the nearest room to kiss you and…” he paused momentarily, reflecting on the unspoken words. “I mean, I was in bed this morning thinking of you, and what happened the other night … that’s why I had to come for a swim to cool off.”
She laughed. And then before she had a chance to react, his mouth was on hers and he kissed her long and deep, as he crushed her against him passionately.
“What now?” she asked, “What are we going to do?”
“Let’s just go with the flow … but we really need to sit down and talk about this ... soon. Maybe tonight? We can work through it together. See what all our options are.”
She raised her hand to her aching brow and winced.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I just have this headache and it won’t shift. It started last night.”
He looked at her, scrutinizing her eyes, examining her face.
“
Any other symptoms?”
“I’m a bit shaky, a little nauseous and I ache all over. I think I’m coming down with something – and I promise I have stayed out of the sun.”
“It might be nothing,” he said, “but when we’re in Nelspruit it might be a good idea to have a blood test to check for malaria. This is not a high risk area, but you never know.”
“Malaria?” she gasped, “That’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Not if it’s caught early. Not if it’s treated properly.”
He touched her head.
“
You don’t seem too warm, but you are standing in a cool pool. Do you remember getting bitten?”
“No.”
“Well, that doesn’t rule anything out. The female mosquito is called ‘the silent killer’. She is stealthy. You don’t hear her and her bite does not itch. We spray the lodge monthly, but sometimes they become immune to the pesticides. We’ll check it out in town.”
*
There was enough of the attacker’s skin under Bernice’s nails to convict The Invisible Man, and the doctors were sure that she would come out of the coma very soon as she was beginning to respond to certain stimuli. Corbett was very optimistic that this bugger was going to be caught eventually. The biggest and most crucial mistake had been made … he had left her, all be it unwittingly, alive. That was not meant to happen. A live victim could speak. A live victim could identify her assailant. A live victim could convict a man … any fool knew that. When she came to she would talk and he would milk the unfortunate girl of every ounce of information, of every minute detail. They would catch this killer … and they could mark his words. He had been just a little too careless this time.
*