It was small. Whitewater cascaded down several sections of rock before rolling over a larger boulder and disappearing from sight. A cool mist floated outward, lightly coating their arms and faces as they stepped closer.
Janvier raised his voice and climbed carefully toward the wet, slippery rocks. “Up there.” He pointed up to where the others could see a very tall chain link fence strewn across the embankment. It passed over the small waterfall, continuing through the jungle on either side.
Where the fence billowed out over the water was a small opening large enough to climb through.
“What?! Up there?”
Janvier smiled proudly. “Yes. I can lead you.”
DeeAnn scanned the incline and turned to look worriedly at her companions. Caesare winked. “At least we’re not jumping out of a plane.”
“Some consolation.”
Fortunately, what little path there was up the embankment was not steep. Instead, it narrowly zigzagged its way to a larger and wider boulder, which jutted out close to the fencing. When they reached it, DeeAnn watched the others’ technique before rotating one arm underneath and wrapping her fingers through the fence for support. She then turned to reach for Dulce only to have the gorilla scamper up effortlessly from behind, passing DeeAnn and waiting for her on the next group of rocks.
Bringing up the rear, Caesare ducked below the fence, careful, like Clay, to keep his pack from getting caught. Dexter watched with interest before suddenly jumping onto the chain link and climbing effortlessly over the top.
After nearly another hundred feet of climbing, the group made it to a wider open area, where they stopped to catch their breath.
“How much further, Janvier?”
He studied the way above them. “Not far. We are close now.”
“Thank God,” DeeAnn muttered.
After a short rest, they continued, veering away from the cascading stream. They found an area where the dense foliage was easier to climb, and gave them more to hang onto.
When they reached the final ledge, what they were looking for was almost completely obscured inside thick vegetation. Dozens of trees and tall bushes were slowly reclaiming the area, including what was left of the old cabin.
On either side of a deteriorating foundation were signs of a once larger, flatter open area — all being methodically restored by Mother Nature.
“This is it?”
Janvier smiled with pride. “Yes.”
Clay and Caesare approached slowly and rounded both sides of the structure. The walls were missing most of their planks. The entirety of the original roof had caved in, filling the inside of the structure with a mix of debris and vegetation.
“I’m guessing it cleaned up a little better thirty years ago?”
DeeAnn anxiously studied the scene, taking it all in. “I’m sure,” she replied absentmindedly.
Caesare nodded and raised his leg, pushing over a broken beam. It fell away, along with a span of old shingles, onto what was left of the wooden floorboards indicating two or three original rooms. In the corner stood a small iron stove, covered with a thick layer of dirt and mud.
In the ruins of a second room were remnants of tattered bedding, where a bed had been. Just a few feet away remained pieces of a small table, strewn with unrecognizable items completely caked in dirt.
Clay studied the remains of several empty shelves, most in pieces on the floor except for one still dangling precariously from the wall.
“Why would they keep this?” he asked quietly. “Why fence the whole area off rather than just tear the structure down?”
“I don’t know,” DeeAnn said. She peered up at the trees above them. “There was an investigation and the only person who was ever charged was one of Dian’s friends, in absentia. He had already returned to the U.S. A lot of people felt it was merely a formality by Rwandan officials. Bribery and corruption run deep here. Especially in these parts with the Rwandan National Park guards.”
Caesare frowned. “Then why not get rid of what’s left of the evidence? They’ve had plenty of time to do it.”
“It doesn’t make any sense.”
The three were interrupted by Janvier, still standing outside. “It was for purpose.”
They all turned toward their guide.
“The man who rules this area, he is very powerful. He rules the mountains. He leaves this place as a reason. As a message to everyone.”
“A message?”
“I think he means a warning,” Clay answered.
DeeAnn rolled her eyes. “My God. What is wrong with people?” She shook her head and dropped down onto a tree stump, staring at the remains. “What is wrong with everyone? Why does everything have to turn into a damn fight?! She did not deserve this! She was just trying to help the gorillas from getting slaughtered. Innocent animals that did nothing to anyone. And for that, they kill her? For trying to help? For trying to be kind?” DeeAnn gritted her teeth. “It’s exactly what we’re trying to do!”
Young Janvier watched DeeAnn as she began to cry through tears of frustration.
“You know’d this lady?”
She nodded through her hands. “Yes. I did.”
He continued watching her. “My mother says the Mountain Lady was a good woman.”
“She was. A very good woman. And this is what happens when you try to help!”
Janvier nodded, sympathetically. He had brought others into the mountains before, but not like these. He stepped closer to DeeAnn. “Then for this, you cannot tell anyone. I can maybe show you something else.”
“Something else?”
The teen nodded. “Books.”
“What kind of books?”
“Books belonged to the Mountain Lady.”
Her heart skipped a beat and DeeAnn looked up at Janvier. “Books that belonged to Dian Fossey?”
“Yes.”
“Which books?”
The young man looked back and forth between them. “Secret books.”
Staring at Janvier, her hands almost began to tremble. When Dian Fossey was killed, not all her belongings had been accounted for. Including some of her journals.
“You’re saying you have secret books of hers?”
Janvier shook his head. “Not me. Someone I know. A man who lives up here. For a long time.”
DeeAnn remained still. Dumbfounded. It couldn’t be. It was impossible.
Seeing her face, Caesare stepped closer. “How far away is this man, Janvier?”
“One hour, maybe. He lives deep in the forest.”
“And how much to see the books?”
The boy thought. “Maybe one hundred dollars. But not for me.”
65
True to his word, the trek was little more than an hour. Through increasingly dense forest, the group pushed forward, navigating a narrow one-foot-wide path through thickets of trees and bushes — which rose over their heads, blotting out most of the midday sun.
Caesare, whose wide frame seemed to brush every possible plant, was completely soaked from the runoff. And he now was carrying Dulce as well as Dexter.
Just behind Janvier, John Clay pushed branches out of the way for DeeAnn and Caesare behind him. In many places, the path was barely visible, leaving Clay wondering if the obscurity was intentional. Yet more than that, Clay and Caesare were silently beginning to exchange looks of skepticism. Things felt too easy. From their arrival, to finding Janvier, and now the Fossey cabin. So far it was all too smooth. Which left them both wondering what surprises were still waiting for them.
But for DeeAnn, the trip seemed excruciatingly long. The mere possibility that some of Fossey’s things had survived this many years was beyond astonishing — new things that may not have been cataloged during the old investigation. And just maybe, things that would shed more light on the circumstances around her death. Like who exactly was behind it.