Strong Medicine (3 page)
Authors: Angela Meadon
My mother sat down in one of the chairs and folded her hands in her lap. She fixed her eyes on a blank patch of wall behind the oak desk.
“I can’t believe you said those things.” She twisted her fingers together, knotting them and unknotting them.
“I had to say something. Maybe now we will get some help.”
I kicked the leg of the table and growled in the back of my throat. This was absolute bullshit. I’d come here to report my daughter missing, and the cops had locked me up. True, we weren’t in a cell, but the Sargent had locked the door all the same.
“I’m so going to the press about this bullshit tomorrow,” I said. My hands stung and I unclenched my fists to reveal four little moon-shaped cuts in each of my palms. A tiny half-circle of blood seeped from each one. The stigmata of a grieving mother.
“You need to calm down,
liefie
.” My mom’s shoulders trembled as she spoke, was she as close to tears as I was? “I’m just as scared for Lindsey as you are, but if you make the cops angry you could just get us into more trouble.”
I sat in the chair next to my mother. The cheap plastic back cut into my back and thighs. “Someone has to tell these lazy fuckers what’s what,
Ma
.”
“I understand, but let’s not do it in a way that could get us shot, okay,
liefie?”
The door opened behind us and I glared over my shoulder. Two men in rumpled suits entered the small room. They both had dark rings beneath their eyes and dragged their feet when they walked. The first to clear the doorway was tall and thin, his dark hair cropped close and neat. His partner stood a head shorter, his suit showing signs of long hours of service in the elbows.
“Erin du Toit?” the taller of the two asked my mother and me at the same time.
“Ja.” I stood and looked up into his eyes. He was a tall bastard, my eyes level with his chest.
“I’m Detective Nyala, this is Detective Brits.” I nodded at them as Brits closed the door to the small room. “You caused a nice scene in reception. They’re still talking about you. Why are you here?”
Detective Nyala unbuttoned the top button of his blazer as he sat on the chair opposite me. His partner, Brits, leaned against the wall on my left. Nyala opened a worn black notebook and clicked a Bic pen. He held it above the paper ready to start taking notes.
I looked at my watch - ten o’clock. I clenched my fists, swallowed the anger that burned in my throat. “My daughter didn’t come home from school this afternoon. I want to report her missing.”
“She’s always home on time.” Mom gripped my hand; her palm was warm and moist.
“What time was she due home?” Nyala asked.
“She had a netball game today,” I said. “It finished at three. She should have been home at half-past three.”
“Does she get a lift home?” Nyala asked.
“No, she walks. But it’s only a couple of kilometers.”
“How old is she, and what school does she go to?”
“She’s nine. She’s in grade four at PJ Viljoen Primary.”
We covered all the details of the day. When I’d seen her last, who I’d spoken to, what we’d done since we realized she wasn’t home on time.
Detective Nyala scribbled in his notebook and Detective Brits picked at his teeth with a well-chewed pen.
“What about her father?” Detective Nyala asked when I’d told him I’d spoken to all of Lindsey’s friends.
“Him?” My mom sneered.
“We haven’t seen the lazy
poes
in years,” I said.
Detective Nyala’s cleared his throat. “We’ll need to speak to him; normally it’s the father in these kinds of cases.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “But he wouldn’t even know what she looks like. We broke up when Lindsey was a year old, and we haven’t heard from him since.”
“You were estranged?” Detective Nyala asked. “How long ago did you separate? What happened between you?”
“I left him nine years ago. He cheated on me.”
“Nothing new there,” Detective Brits said from the other side of the room.
My shoulders tensed and I had to bite my tongue to hold back a sarcastic remark about his mother. I’d already caused enough shit for one night, and my mom was right about stirring trouble in the cop shop. I’d heard enough stories about cops abusing their power to know how quickly they could snap.
“What was your relationship like before the affair?” Detective Nyala asked.
“It was great, until I had Lindsey. Then things went south. He couldn’t handle being at home all the time. He didn’t want to change nappies. She was about five months old when he started working late, by the time she was a year old I caught him cheating.”
“And you haven’t heard from him since? Does he pay maintenance?”
“He tried to contact me a few times right after it happened. I refused to meet with him. He stopped paying maintenance about six years ago.”
“Did you take him to court for the money?” Detective Nyala asked. He had large brown eyes, round and open. They invited me to trust him, to open up and tell him all about my problems. He would have made a good shrink.
I laughed a humorless laugh. “Sue him? I can’t afford to do that. I’m barely scraping by as it is. I live in a two-bedroom house with seven people.”
I understand,” Nyala said. “You’ll need to give us his contact details so that we can follow up with him. Now, tell me more about Lindsey. How was she at home? Any signs of depression?”
I shook my head instinctively. Why would my nine-year-old daughter be depressed? She was - is too young for depression. “No, of course not. She’s just a kid.”
“No strange behavior? New friends or a boyfriend or anything?”
“I only really know three of her friends. She doesn’t bring kids around to the house.”
Detective Brits’s eyebrows rose at that. “Why not?”
“It’s a small house,” I said. “A lot of us live there.”
“How did your daughter feel about that?” Nyala asked.
I shrugged. “It’s all she’s really known. We moved in there when she was a baby. She’s grown up in the home.”
“All right,” Nyala said. “Have you noticed any strange adults paying her too much attention recently?”
I shook my head. There was nothing like that. She’d just disappeared.
She walked home this way every day. A shortcut went through the
veld
, and she liked the
veld
much more than the road. Her mom said she shouldn’t go that way, but it was fine, she always did.
She shrugged so she could move her book bag and let some air between her school dress and her skin. Her fingers brushed against the pocket at her hip and she felt the lump under the thin fabric.
It was the letter Billy le Roux had given her before the netball game. She’d slipped it into her pocket and forgotten all about it. She reached in and pulled the little wad of paper out. He’d folded it neatly so that it made a little envelope, and he’d drawn a pink heart under her name.
Lindsey smiled before unfolding the letter and reading it. She turned onto the path that led through the
veld
, her eyes glued to the letter, her feet following the trail.
She giggled when she got to the part about how he had wanted to hold her hand during the swimming gala that week. Billy was super cute. Jenny and Carmen would be so jealous.
A cricket hopped across the path in front of Lindsey and she jumped when she heard its wings zip together as it went past.
“You don’t have to be afraid.” A man’s voice came from behind her. Lindsey spun around to see who was talking to her. It was a black man. He was tall and thin. He smiled at her but he didn’t look happy.
“I wasn’t scared,” Lindsey said. “Just didn’t want it to touch me.”
“What’s that?” The man pointed at Billy’s letter and Lindsey hid it behind her back.
“Nothing. A letter.” Would he tell her mom she had a boyfriend? She didn’t want to get into trouble.
“Do you know the way to the Spar?” the man asked.
“Uh… it’s that way I think.” Lindsey pointed to the road that passed the
veld
and went to the big shopping center.
“Do you want to go get a cool drink?” The man held out his hand, the fake smile on his face grew wider.
“I need to go home.” Lindsey shoved the letter into her pocket without folding it, the paper creased beneath her fingers.
Lindsey’s heart felt light and heavy at the same time. Sweat beaded her skin beneath her dress.
This man was dangerous. The way he looked at her made her feel like a bird being stalked by a cat. She had to get away from him.
She started walking along the path again. His footsteps crunched in the sand behind her.
“I need you to show me the way,” the man said.
Lindsey walked faster. She held onto the straps of her book bag to stop it from bouncing and hitting into her back.
“It’s rude not to help someone when they ask you,” he said.
Lindsey started running. She didn’t care if she was rude. Her mother had always told her not to go anywhere with strangers and this man made her scared. His footsteps thundered through the dirt close behind her. Laughter echoed over his steps. It was not a nice laugh. It made her want to cry, but she wouldn’t let him see her cry.
She plunged off the path, into the grass. It was almost up to her tummy. A row of trees stood on the edge of the
veld
; if she could climb really high he might not get to her.
Something pulled on her shoulders and her legs shot out in front of her. She twisted to the left as she fell, and threw her hands out to the sides. A sharp crack sounded in her wrist right before she crashed into the hard clumps of grass. Hot pain burned up her arm, followed by a white light that flashed in front of her eyes. Her arm was so sore that she gasped for breath, trying to find air beyond the pain.
Finally, she screamed as loud as she could. She’d always been the loudest at cheering in her netball team. She screamed until her lungs were empty, drew a deep breath and screamed again.
A heavy body landed on top of her. His hands were rough. He rolled her onto her back. Her metal pencil case stabbed into her side. The sun was a blazing ball in the sky.
She scratched at him with her right hand. Moving the left one hurt too much so she pressed it against her chest. Her nails came away from his face bloody. Long red trails ran down his cheek.
“Little bitch!” He sat over her now. The sun was behind him and all she could see was his outline. She twisted, tried to wiggle out from under him. She kneed him in the back and spat in his face.
“Let me go!” Her voice was hoarse from screaming.
He shifted his weight, pushed her skirt up her legs and hooked her panties with two fingers. He dragged them off her, keeping his body on her all the time so she couldn’t get away.
Where was her mom? She would be able to help. Or Uncle Tommy?
He jammed her panties into her mouth. They were sweaty and had pieces of dirt in them. He shoved the cotton wad so deep she gagged. She bit his fingers before he got them out of her mouth.
“You’re fucking lucky he wants you unhurt.” The man took a long rope out of his pocket and tied it around her ankles. She kicked and punched and tried to bite him again but he was too strong.
Lindsey could feel her arms and legs getting tired. Her left hand didn’t even work properly and it burned as if she’d stuck it into the oven up to the elbow.
She wanted to go home, to see her mom and Tommy and Granny Besta. She’d even eat Granny’s horrible stew without complaining. If only this man would let her go.
He forced her onto her stomach, pressed her face into the ground and ripped her book bag off her back. She watched it fall into the grass, the top zip open, her English book slid out and dug into the dirt. Mr. Kloppers would be mad if it got dirty.
She tried to scream once more as the man tied the rope around her left wrist, but she knew it didn’t matter. Nobody would come to help her now. When she was tied up so tight she couldn’t move her hands or feet the man stood up.
She could hear his heavy breathing behind her. And her own breath puffed into the sand. Then she heard beeping, like someone pressing the buttons on a cellphone.
“
Ek het haar
,” he said. “The
veld
on Third by the school. Okay, half an hour.”
The man put his face up close to Lindsey’s. She could smell the stink of his breath and sweat mixing together. It made her want to puke. He smiled at her and this time she could see he was happy.
“That was fun,” he said. “The car will be here soon.”
She wanted to scream, but the panties in her mouth went deeper every time she tried and it was getting hard to breathe. Her arm hurt so much she couldn’t think of anything else. Her whole body started to shiver and that only made the pain worse.
The man stood up and looked towards the road. He waved at someone there.
Another man arrived pushing a wheelbarrow. They nodded at each other and picked Lindsey up and shoved her into the wheelbarrow.
“If you move,” the new man said as he looked into her eyes. “I’ll kill you.” His eyes weren’t white like they should be. The white part was all yellow and he smelled like a fire.
They put a heavy white bag over her, the kind you get at the nursery for carrying mud in. The wheelbarrow jolted and thumped as they pushed it over clumps of grass and onto the path. The wheel squeaked as it turned, faster and faster.
Lindsey held her body as still as possible. She wanted to get away from these two men, but they would kill her if she tried. Her mom would be really angry with her if she got killed.
