“It’s a barbaric practice where lions are placed in caged areas for so-called hunts.” He scoffed. “It’s hardly a hunt since the animals have been raised in captivity and used in petting zoos. They have no fear of humans and then have nowhere to escape to beyond the confines of the enclosed compounds. They’re sitting ducks for the kind of people who don’t even have hunting licenses and generally don’t know how to fire guns, but who still want a lion-head trophy.”

“My God, that’s terrible! They’re effectively shooting tame, caged animals. I mean, how is that even legal?”

“It brings in tourism and big money.” He shrugged sadly. “Never underestimate the power of the almighty dollar.”

“Well, then I’m even happier that we rejected their offer!” I sat upright as something occurred to me. “Did Ruth know about this? The canned-lion-hunting thing?”

He shook his head to my relief. “No, they’ve kept it all very hush-hush and are hiding behind some consortium from what I understand. She wouldn’t have known.”

I was relieved but still couldn’t help but wonder if it would have made a difference to her if she had. “So, this isn’t a social call?” I tried for levity but it fell flat.

“I wanted to warn you what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Riaan answered. “The Coetzees are not going to just let this rest, because they need this property too much. Please be on your guard”—he nodded his head in the direction of the house—“the both of you. You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Ruth

27 May 1994

Verdriet, Magaliesburg, South Africa

I’m not a big coffee drinker. I prefer my morning beverages to be healthier options like orange or tomato juice. Laced, of course, with something fermented or distilled for a bit of kick. So the first shock of the day is the bitter sip of the coffee I made myself. The second is seeing Riaan van Tonder walking inside from the patio and heading for the main door.

He spots me at the same time I spot him and blushes scarlet. Not much of a poker player, that one; you could see his tells miles away. I wink a greeting, which makes him color even more before he stutters a greeting in return. Silly boy should have slept with me when he had his chance all those years ago. I would have made him forget about Dee, I promise you that.

“Let me know if you need help with removing the graffiti,” he says to Dee before he’s out the door.

“Did he come by to pay you all that backdated child support?” I ask to see what kind of reaction I’ll get, and she rewards me by flushing. “Just kidding. Why was he here?”

“Sit down, Ruth. We need to talk.”