Fighting back nausea, I stumble to my feet and rush from the room calling to him. His bedroom door is open but as I step inside I can immediately see that he isn’t in his crib. Neither is his blanket.

“Mandla! Where are you?” My breath comes in rasping gasps and it feels like I’m about to begin hyperventilating. “Dee?”

She has Mandla. Of course she does. But when I get to her room, her bed is still made. I remember then that she’s away with Riaan, and the realization just makes me feel more panicked.

How did I get to bed? Where was Mandla then? I don’t remember. The last thing I remember is drinking my sixth or seventh martini at the Tusk Bar & Lounge at the Palace of the Lost City. I don’t remember leaving the Sun City resort or getting home, but I’m in my nightie, so at least there’s that.

And then it occurs to me: Zodwa. She was looking after Mandla while I was out. I have no idea what time I arrived home, but she would have stayed with him until I got back. Where is she?

That’s when I notice that the front door is wide open. Oh, Jesus, no. What comes to me then is all those voices on the phone threatening me and my boy. I see Klein Maynard Coetzee’s face in the rearview mirror after he’s just swerved to miss hitting me, hate reflected in his gaze. I see the dominee as he says, The baby won’t be safe here. Who knows what might happen to him.

Have they taken my boy?

I have to check if Zodwa is here or if she’s missing too. I wish now that I’d installed a phone in her cottage but since I didn’t, I have no option but to go down there. I can’t find my keys but I find the spare remote control and when I run outside, I see Vince’s car parked outside the gate. I have no idea what it’s doing there, why I didn’t drive it inside, but that’s where I head. Stones bite into the soft soles of my feet and I wish that I’d thought to put slippers on before rushing out.

The car’s unlocked and my keys are still in the ignition. Thank God.

It’s a short drive to the cottage but it takes an eternity.

CHAPTER SEVENTY

Zodwa

11–12 October 1995

Verdriet, Magaliesburg, South Africa

Zodwa reads to Mandla under the shade of the wild fig tree. It’s become her favorite place to study since there’s usually a breeze and it’s cooler than the cottage. The tree itself is beautiful, with its enormous roof of leaves and snaking strangler roots that are so big she’s able to lean back against them for support.