Page 48 of Love in the Wild

“You’re right, Carillet. No animal would do this.” He pointed down at a very human-looking footprint, made by a bare foot. “Someone hunted them down, someone human. Are you sure it wasn’t someone from the Batwa tribe? I know they were pushed out of the forests and national parks, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a few still hid out here.”

Jean remembered hearing how the ancient hunter-gatherer Batwa tribes had been displaced all over Rwanda, Uganda, and Burundi, all for the sake of park development, but he personally hadn’t seen any evidence of the tribes during the six months he’d been here.

“I’m quite positive it wasn’t the Batwa.”

“Then we face a much bigger problem, don’t we?” Holt said, his tone hard-edged.

Jean didn’t know if Holt told him this to reassure him that he wasn’t going mad, or if he wanted to scare Jean with the idea of some madman running about the forest.

“Grab his legs,” Holt ordered as he reached for Cash’s arms. “We’ll carry him to the river.”

Jean grabbed Cash’s booted feet, and they began to drag the body between them. They were about a hundred yards away when they heard voices shouting in the woods.

“Drop him behind this thicket and get down.” Holt shoved Jean down to a low crouch as they hid.

Through the tangle of branches, Jean made out a group of ten people approaching the clearing where the other bodies were.

“Here they are! Just like she said!” one man shouted. Then he got on his radio. Holt reached for a radio on his belt and turned it on, keeping the volume low as he scanned the channels until he found the one the man was speaking on.

“This is Landry. We found the site where Ms. Matthews said the massacre took place. Stand by for details ...” There was a pause, and then he continued. “I see seven tourists and two guides, but there’s at least three other bodies here, all armed. They must be the poachers. No signs of bullet wounds, though. The guy killed the bastards with his bare hands. Jesus ...”

“Landry, send in your GPS coordinates, and we’ll get a recovery team out to you as soon as possible,” the man over the radio ordered.

“Copy that.” Landry clicked the radio back on his belt and pulled out his GPS device.

Holt turned his radio off so no one would hear it if it picked up any chatter. “Come on, we need to move.” Jean helped him resume dragging Cash’s body toward the river.

“You didn’t tell me that bitch Cash was going to kill survived,” Holt said once they were far enough away to not be seen or heard.

Jean hoisted Cash’s legs even higher to step over a fallen log. “I didn’t know. I assumed that whatever creature had killed Cash and the others would have killed her too.”

Holt’s cold blue eyes met Jean’s for a long moment, until Jean wondered with dread if Holt might shoot him and toss him into the river too.

“You will help me find this Matthews woman, and she’s going to have a little accident, understood? She might have heard something that ties back to me, and we need to make sure that any details she might remember die with her.”

“Oui, Monsieur Holt,” Jean murmured, his stomach knotted as they carried Cash’s corpse deeper into the dark jungle.

* * *

Thorne couldn’t stop staringat his reflection in the mirror Afiya held up. He looked strange. His long dark hair had only ever been shorn with sharp bits of shale until Bwanbale had given him a knife. Even then, the task had not been all that much easier.

Afiya and her scissors, as he learned the blades were called, had effortlessly created a great change in his appearance. Now his hair was just barely above his ears in places, though it still fell in his eyes. When he had questioned Afiya about why she had left it long enough to cover his eyes, she laughed and told him that Eden would prefer it this way, that it made him very attractive to women. Thorne didn’t care aboutwomen—he only cared about what Eden thought.

“There. You look good.” Afiya chuckled and headed back to the kitchen to put her scissors away.

Thorne turned to Bwanbale. “You agree? This is good?”

“It is.” He flashed Thorne a mischievous smile. “Eden will definitely approve.” Bwanbale suddenly tensed as something in his pocket buzzed. He pulled it out. Thorne recognized it as something called a cell phone. Bwanbale had explained it to him, along with some other devices like the TV, something Thorne vaguely remembered having watched as a child. He also remembered phones, but he thought you were supposed to talk to them. This Bwanbale seemed to read instead.

“It’s Eden,” Bwanbale said. “She says she is moving out of the embassy to a hotel.”

“A hotel?” The new word made him restless. Was this yet another obstacle he would face in order to get to his mate?

“This is good news, old friend. You will not have as hard a time reaching her. Come, we’ll leave now and be there in a few hours if I drive fast.”

“Shouldn’t you tell Eden he is coming?” Afiya asked.

Bwanbale flashed a grin at her, then Thorne. “My heart, you forget young love. Surprises are best for romance.”

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