“He could have written it last night,” Mariam suggested.
“It’s the longest decision I’ve ever gotten from him. Ten pages of careful reasoning. He knows we stand little chance on appeal. He wants us to try this case in front of him without DNA. We have to find a way around him.”
“The only way around him is to get him recused,” Mariam said. “But without evidence of bias or corruption, we can’t go to the Principal Resident Magistrate.”
Joseph leaned forward in his chair. “I have a thought. It’s been bothering me since the beginning. Did any of you see the way Kaunda looked at Darious at the initial hearing? He was apologetic. What if they know each other?”
“Now that I think about it,” Zoe said, “I saw the same thing.”
Sarge furrowed his brow. “It’s an intriguing idea. But they would have to have a substantial relationship to create a conflict of interest. The Principal Resident Magistrate will never intervene if they’re just acquaintances.”
“It’s worth a look,” Mariam said to Joseph. “Let us know what you find. In the meantime, does anyone vote for an appeal?”
All heads shook in unison.
“Okay,” she said. “That means we have to proceed on the assumption that the burden of proof must be met without DNA. We need more evidence. We need an adult eyewitness. We need someone who can tell us definitively when Kuyeya was born. And if there was a personal motive, we need to figure out what it was.”
“I’m working on the virgin rape angle,” Joseph said. “I’ll go back to Kanyama and Kabwata and beat the bushes. Perhaps I’ll find someone I didn’t talk to before.”
“And I’ll keep digging into the past,” Zoe said. “I think a trip to Livingstone is in order.”
“I agree,” Mariam said. She looked at Joseph. “If you can spare a couple of days, I’d like you to go along. We’ll cover your expenses.”
He gave Zoe a hint of a grin. “The falls are nice this time of year.”
Zoe returned to her desk and powered up her laptop, barely containing her enthusiasm. Victoria Falls was one of her favorite places on earth. She purchased a pair of round-trip tickets to Livingstone, reserved a rental car, and booked two rooms at the Zambezi Safari Lodge. At noon, she drove home to pack. She threw some clothes into a duffel bag and placed her MacBook and Bella’s diary in her backpack. Then she cobbled together a lunch of grapes and cheese and ate it on the deck while studying a map of Livingstone.
Just after one, Joseph met her at the gate in his truck, wearing a short-sleeve shirt, cargo shorts, and sandals. She tossed her duffel into the flatbed and climbed in, wedging her backpack between her knees. He smiled and gunned the engine, throwing her against her seat.
“Are you excited or something?” she asked.
“I haven’t been on an airplane in years,” he said with a laugh.
“What is it with men and mechanical things?” She rolled her eyes. “My brother is like a kid every time he’s at an airport.”
Twenty minutes later, they parked in the lot at the Lusaka International Airport and entered the terminal, joining the queue of passengers waiting to pay the departure tax. Before long, Zoe’s eyes began to wander. The airport reminded her of the Park Street bus station in Johannesburg—a modernist cavern with wide-open floors and a confusing array of gates.
Suddenly, she frowned. Thirty feet away, a man was leaning against a wall, staring at them. Dressed in a floral-print shirt and black sunglasses, he had the build of a bull—large head, no neck, and a body sculpted out of muscle. She stared back at him until he turned away, searching her memory for his face. She couldn’t place him. He was holding a duffel bag. He was probably just another passenger.
When their flight was called, they boarded the twin-engine propeller plane and took seats at the rear—Zoe by the window, Joseph by the aisle. The last passenger to board the aircraft was the man in sunglasses. He looked toward them briefly and then sat down in the second row. Zoe studied the back of his head, feeling a vague flutter of concern. She considered pointing him out to Joseph, but she didn’t want to seem paranoid.
The plane took off and banked to the southwest, climbing into the spotless sky. Zoe watched Lusaka recede into the distance and then vanish altogether, like a mirage in the highland bush. She took out Bella’s notebook and began to reread pages she had marked with sticky notes. Halfway through the volume, she reached the only letter Bella hadn’t written in English. She had meant to ask Joseph about it some time ago.
“Is this Nyanja?” she asked.
“It’s Tonga,” he said, scanning the letter. His eyes darkened.
“What?”
“Didn’t Doris tell you she owed Bella a debt?”