I stare at the laptop screen. “Because I’m the only one who knew which of these men actually went on safari.”
Rizzoli nods. “He had to keep you from ever seeing this picture.”
Suddenly I can’t bear to look at Rhodes’s face any longer and I turn away. “Johnny,” I whisper. That’s the only word I say, just Johnny. A memory springs into my head, of him in the sunlight, his hair tawny as a lion’s. I remember how he stood, with feet planted as firmly as a tree in its native African soil. How he’d asked me to trust him, told me that I must also learn to trust myself. And I think of the way he looked at me as we sat by the fire, the light of the flames flickering on his face. If only I’d listened to my heart; if only I’d put my faith in the man I wanted to believe in.
“So now you know the truth,” Dr. Isles says gently.
“It could have turned out so differently.” I blink, and a tear slides down my cheek. “He fought to keep us alive. And we all turned against him.”
“In a way, Millie, he did keep you alive.”
“How?”
“Because of Johnny—your fear of him—you stayed hidden in Touws River, where Alan Rhodes couldn’t find you.” Dr. Isles glances at Rizzoli. “Until we, unfortunately, brought you to Boston.”
“Our fault,” admits Rizzoli. “We had our eye on the wrong man.”
So did I. I think of how Johnny has stalked me through my nightmares, when he was never the one I should have feared. Those bad dreams are fading now; last night I slept better than I have in six years. The monster is gone, and I’m the one who defeated him. Weeks ago, Detective Rizzoli told me it was the only way I’d ever sleep soundly again, and I’m confident that soon the nightmares will vanish entirely.
She closes the laptop. “So tomorrow you can fly home knowing it really is over. I’m sure your husband will be glad to have you back.”
I nod. “Chris has been calling me about three times a day. He says this has made it into the news there.”
“You’ll go home a hero, Millie.”
“I’m just happy to go home.”
“Before you do, there’s something I thought you might want to have.” She reaches into the laptop bag and pulls out a large envelope. “Henk Andriessen emailed that to me. I printed it up for you.”
I open the envelope and pull out a photograph. My throat closes over, and for a moment I can’t make a sound. I can only stare at the picture of Johnny. He stands in knee-high grass, a rifle at his side. His hair is gilded by sunlight and his eyes are crinkled in mid-laugh. This is the Johnny I fell in love with, the real Johnny who was temporarily eclipsed by the shadow of a monster. This is how I must remember him, at home in the wild.
“It’s one of the few good photos that Henk could find. It was taken by another bush guide around eight years ago. I thought you’d like it.”
“How did you know?”
“Because I know what a mental whiplash it must be to find out that everything you believed about Johnny Posthumus was wrong. He deserves to be remembered for who he really was.”
“Yes,” I whisper as I caress the smiling face in the photo. “And I will.”
Forty
CHRISTOPHER WILL BE WAITING FOR ME AT THE AIRPORT. VIOLET WILL be there too, almost certainly holding a big bouquet of flowers. I’ll be swept into their arms and then we’ll drive home to Touws River, where there’ll be a welcome-home party this evening. Chris has already warned me about it, because he knows I don’t like surprises, nor do I much like parties. But I feel it’s finally time to celebrate, because I am reclaiming my life. I’m rejoining the world.
I’m told that half the town will be there because everyone’s curious. Until they saw the story on the news, few of them had any idea of my past, or why I’ve been such a recluse. I could never risk the exposure before. Now they all know, and I’m the town’s new celebrity, the ordinary mum who went to America and defeated a serial killer.
“It’ll be utter madness here,” Chris told me during our phone call just before I boarded the plane. “The newspaper keeps calling, and the TV station. I’ve told them to leave us alone, but you need to be ready for this.”
In half an hour, my plane will touch down. These final moments of the flight will be my last chance at solitude. As we start our descent toward Cape Town, I take out the photograph one last time.
Six years have passed since I last saw him. Every year I grow older, but Johnny never will. He will always stand straight and tall, the grass waving at his feet, the sunlight reflected in his smile. I think about all the things that could have been if things had turned out differently. Would we now be married and blissful in our rustic hut in the bush? Would our children have his wheat-colored hair, and grow up running barefoot and free? I will never know, because the real Johnny lies somewhere in the Delta, his bones crumbling into the soil, his atoms forever bound to the land he loved. The land he’ll always belong to. All I own are my memories of him, and these I’ll guard as my secret. They belong to no one but me.
The plane touches down and rolls to the gate. Outside, the sky is a brilliant blue, and I know the air will be soft with the scent of flowers and the sea. I slip Johnny’s photo back into the envelope and tuck it inside my purse. Out of sight, but never forgotten.
I rise to my feet. It’s time to go back to my family.
To Levina
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I will never forget the thrill of my first glimpse of a leopard in the wild. For that treasured memory, I thank the wonderful staff at the Ulusaba Safari Lodge in Sabi Sands. I owe special thanks to ranger Greg Posthumus and tracker Dan Ndubane for introducing me to the beauty of the African bush—and for keeping my husband alive.
I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my literary agent, Meg Ruley, who has been my stalwart friend and ally through the years, and to my editors, Linda Marrow (US) and Sarah Adams (UK), for their invaluable help in making this book shine.
Most of all I thank my husband, Jacob, for sharing this journey. The adventure continues.