Cathi frowns. “It will be dark very soon. Maybe you should stay the night again.”
“My friends will be wondering where I am,” I say reluctantly. And there’s still Kiki to think about. I need to get back to call Bug Eye and head off any more visits from Ketchup. Running away like a madwoman in the rain left me not only shoeless but phoneless. Not that I would have had service up here, I bet. I’ve stayed too long already. But it’s hard to leave. Cathi has started dinner out back and the smell of onions and garlic and chilies is making my stomach growl. It’s familiar, this place. Even if I can’t really remember it, the sense of home is here.
“I thought those boys would come looking for you,” Cathi says, “and you could walk back to town with them.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “I don’t need an escort.”
“I will go up the hill and call Father Fidele on my mobile. He can meet you halfway, at least. No one will bother you if you are with him.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” I say. “I’m sure he’s busy.”
But Cathi ignores me and takes her phone out to the field and walks up the hill. I hear her talking and feel a surge of fondness for Father Fidele, even though I’ve barely met him. He must know what Cathi does to survive, and yet she’s still able to call on him for help.
“He’s coming,” Cathi says when she returns. “If you stay on the main path you’ll meet him.”
I stand up, ready to go. “Bye, Ruth.”
“Good-bye, Christina.”
I take the photo of Cathi and my mother out of my pocket and hold it out to her. “Keep it,” I say.
Catherine takes it from me like it’s as fragile as a butterfly wing. She tucks it in between the pages of her Bible.
“Thank you, Cathi,” I say, swallowing hard to keep from crying.
She places her hand on Ruth’s shoulder. They watch me with the same bright eyes. “We will pray for Anju. And you.”
“Will you come back someday?” Ruth asks softly.
“I hope so.”
“You are welcome,” Cathi says. “You are family.”
? ? ?
I want to go fast, so Father Fidele won’t have to walk too far to meet me, but the path is full of stones and my feet are still bruised. I should have taken the sandals Cathi offered, but I could tell they were her only pair. Instead I pick my way through the rocks as best I can. There is no one on the path, and the only noise is the stream rushing past and birds calling above. The late-afternoon sun sends gold spears through the branches. As I walk, the tangled, painful web of what Cathi has revealed about my mother begins to unwind, and the strands reweave themselves, joining with what I already knew. They form the start of a picture.
I organize everything into a sort of timeline of what I know and what I still don’t:
Mama and Cathi were captured by militia and taken to work in a mine.
Mama was singled out by Number Two. This psycho is probably my father. He was sent here by a white guy, who must be Mr. Greyhill.
Mama and Cathi escaped from the militia. I was born. Time passed.
Donatien came around asking questions, and Mama agreed to show him where the deals happened.
Before she could, militia came again to our home and captured her and Cathi again. She pushed me out the window and I escaped. The same day, someone tried to kill Donatien.
Mama somehow escaped again from the militia, found me, and we left Congo. Mama took us to Sangui City.
Mama went to work for the Greyhills, even though Donatien told her that Mr. Greyhill was bad guy Number One, Number Two’s employer. Why? Why did she go there, and why did he agree to employ her?
Mama had Kiki; Mr. G is her father.
Mama threatened to expose Mr. G; he threatened to kill her.
Mama was murdered in Mr. G’s house, but not by Mr. G. David Mwika, head of security, takes the video of the murder and then later tries to blackmail someone with it. Who?
David Mwika could be the murderer, but what’s his motive? And if not him, who? And why? The killer didn’t take anything; he wasn’t a robber. He was deliberate about killing Mama. Was it someone who wanted to stop her from doing something? Or get revenge for something she had already done? Or was it some other reason entirely?
I slow to a stop and stand looking at the creek. Because I realize that while I have a million questions, what I really need to know first is fairly simple. It’s the same question I keep coming back around to: Why did Mama search out Mr. Greyhill? Why ask for a job? And why did he agree to let her work there, let me stay there—essentially sheltering us? What did he gain? If I knew that, I think I’d know a lot more about who might want to kill her.
That’s what I need to find out.
And it won’t be easy, but I know who I have to ask. I need to get back to Boyboy and Michael and a phone. I swivel from the creek back to the path, determined.