Diamonds in the Shadow (27 page)

Mattu's heart had not pounded like this since he had run from a machete blade.

Victor.

Here.

Driving the car that had passed the school bus.

Mattu tried to focus on the high school, the wide halls decorated with banners and art-class projects and retired team jerseys, filled with fat and happy kids, all laughing and talking and yelling and running and so
full
of themselves—was there ever a people so full of themselves!

It wasn't Victor, he told himself.

But it was Victor.

I wanted to be safe and believe I had a solution and I could make everything all right and the bad things would go away. I'm as childish as Mopsy—I, who know evil.

He had to tell somebody in authority that Victor was here.

But nobody would believe him. This town did not have people like Victor, and nobody here really believed in evil or that evil people routinely did evil things. They would say, No, no, Mattu, that was in Africa. This is here.

But they wouldn't really believe that it happened in Africa either.

If it was Victor in that car, the only possible outcome was violence. Mattu would be responsible for not having told the authorities. They would send Mattu back to Africa and the refugee camp. He would never have the new high school called Free and the new apartment with Andre and Celestine and would never be the driver of their own car.

But realistically, who could Mattu tell?

The friendly middle-aged officer whose beat was the high school? The fat old guy whose patrol car was generally parked near one of the three red lights? They didn't know any more about real trouble than the Finches.

Then Mattu realized why Celestine had been so fierce when she had insisted that if Victor tried to follow Mattu, Mattu must never come back. It wasn't to save herself, or Andre.

It was to save the Finches.

The American family was far more at risk than the Africans. When you wanted to terrify or harm people—which was all Victor did—you started with the weak. Americans knew nothing of pain or fear. They were not strong like Mattu and Andre and Celestine. They could not withstand what Victor threw at them.

Victor would know this.

The father would not get home till late this evening, so the person whose job it was to defend the family was not here to do it. But even if Mr. Finch were here—or if something horrible took place so that Victor waited for him—Victor would not go after the father. He would go after the father's weakness.

Usually that would be the children. But Mattu thought the weakest one in this family was the mother, Kara. The one who believed she could control everything and handle any problem. Kara did not know how to handle a Victor.

But a Victor could always handle a Kara.

Mattu thanked God that Kara Finch and Andre had taken their long drive to the distant city.

Alake was the unknown. Body and soul, Alake was stretching
toward being an ordinary person. She could never do it, not with her past. Alake's weakness would be her puppy.

But of course, Victor had not come to kill the Finches, find Alake or deal with puppies. He had come for his diamonds.

The timing could not have been worse.

It's all right for the moment, thought Mattu. The house is empty. I can telephone everybody in the family and tell them to stay away. Then somehow I'll explain to the police who and what Victor is.

Mattu was ill with the list of things he had done wrong. “Jared,” he whispered.

“Not now, okay? I didn't finish my calculus.”

Mattu tugged on his sleeve. “This is more important.”

Jared shook him off. “Not to me,” he said irritably, walking away.

A
LAKE WAS HALFWAY UP
P
ROSPECT
H
ILL
when she heard a car behind her. There were so few houses up here that every driver would recognize her and know that she ought to be in school. Alake veered behind the wide, dark branches of a massive hemlock. She hoped it wasn't Tay's mother. As soon as the car passed, she raced on up the hill, legs trembling, lungs weakening.

The car did pull into the Finches' driveway. It was a beautiful car, long and sleek, with none of the filth from snow and road salt that usually coated cars here. How could she solve this? Couldn't God have given her even ten minutes to—

The driver of the shiny car stepped out.

For days now, maybe weeks, Alake had forgotten. Even in her terrible dreams and even in the constant memories in which Victor starred, Alake had forgotten that Victor was alive and in America.

How amazing that his sponsors had given him such a fine vehicle.

Alake caught herself. She was turning into Mopsy. Nobody had
given
that car to Victor.

The garage door was still open, so Tay's mother had not gotten
here after all. But the empty open garage shouted that no one was home. Victor surveyed the house for a moment. He did not look behind him, which was good, because Alake was out on the road, entirely visible, and had nowhere to retreat. Victor walked swiftly into the shadows of the open garage. Alake dropped to a crouch and scuttled behind a small leafless bush. Victor's hand would be reaching toward the unlocked kitchen door. On the other side, he would find Jopsy. Victor and Alake did not come from a part of the world where dogs were loved. A dog was something to kick or kill.

Alake had failed to keep her sister safe, and her teachers, and her parents, and everybody else on this earth. She still had a chance to keep her puppy safe.

Victor wanted his diamonds and Alake knew where they were. In exchange for the diamonds, would Victor drive Alake and Jopsy to New York? Because New York was where he had to go; it was where the diamond buyers were. Would he agree to let Alake out somewhere in that vast city and then drive on, never to cross her path again? She knew Victor. He would promise anything and shoot anyway.

The puppy had already learned that when a door opened (as it always did, if you waited long enough), speed was crucial to avoid capture. Victor must have opened the door, because Jopsy hurtled out of the garage and scrabbled on the frozen ground. How excited he was from his successful escape and the fresh air!

Keep running! Alake thought at him.

And of course, he did. Following his nose, Jopsy kept running right to Alake. And when he found her, he barked for joy.

Wow, did Tay's mother drive a nice car! Mopsy was impressed. And Mopsy's timing was pretty good—maybe she could negotiate puppy-visiting rights. Did the church volunteer exist who would haul Alake back and forth to see a dog?

Mopsy crossed the cement floor of the garage, silent in her thick-soled sneakers, and walked into the kitchen.

A man was holding Alake by her face, his fingers gripping her chin and mouth and nose as if Alake were a football. In his other hand he held a gun.

Mopsy had never seen a gun except on television.

The man threw Alake away like a piece of firewood. She hit the wall so hard that the watercolor hanging there fell off its nail. The glass over the painting smashed, and shards scattered all over Alake and the floor.

The man smiled.

Now Mopsy knew what the Amabos had been afraid of, why they dreaded the sound of a door opening or a phone ringing. This person.

The puppy whined for attention.

The man aimed a kick, but Alake intercepted and took the kick. The kick made a sound, or perhaps Alake's ribs made the sound. But Alake remained silent. She scooped Jopsy into her arms and rolled away.

“It's okay,” said Mopsy quickly. “He's just a puppy. He can't hurt you.”

The man faced her. He clicked his gun in a way that did not cause it to shoot but made it even more frightening. Mopsy iced over. She couldn't think through the frigid fear.

“Where is Mattu?” The man's accent was thick and draggy, like Celestine's and Andre's.

“He's at school,” said Mopsy. She forced a thought out of her paralyzed brain. “You want the diamonds, don't you?”

He and the open hole of his gun stared at her. “You know about the diamonds?”

“Mattu doesn't know that I know. I was peeking in his boxes.”

“Show me.”

Alake will run away the minute we head upstairs, thought Mopsy, so she'll be safe. Once he's counting his diamonds, I'll race downstairs too. As soon as I'm outside, I'll dig out my cell phone and call 911.

The man gestured to her to go first. When she walked by, he yanked off the backpack that held her cell phone and flung it across the room. He nodded an order at Alake, who fell in line behind Mopsy so that they formed a little parade—Mopsy first, then Alake and the puppy and then the man.

The treads seemed high. The carpet felt rough. Her sneakers snagged and she stumbled. It took forever to reach Jared's room. Her brother's side was messy. Mattu's side was beautifully arranged, so he could gaze upon his new possessions in rows and pairs.

On the dormer shelf sat the two Tupperware containers.

“The cardboard boxes fell apart,” explained Mopsy. “Mom
gave Mattu plastic boxes instead.” The seal would be tight. The man couldn't hold the gun and open the boxes at the same time. That would be her chance.

But he made Mopsy open them.

The instant she lifted one, she knew she was in trouble. It was way too light.

She pried it open, knowing already that the diamonds and the ashes were gone.

Could Jared just be done with the refugees' problems and their needs and their noise? Could Mattu just shut up already? “Oh, please,” snapped Jared. “Stop it with your torture stories. If Victor is so important, why didn't you mention him before?” Jared felt sufficiently hostile toward Mattu to belt him. If Dad felt this way, no wonder he left before dawn and came back after midnight every day.

“I was scared,” said Mattu. “I misunderstood things, Jared. I thought somehow we were safe. I pretended that, anyway. But no one is safe. You must not let anybody in your family return to the house.”

“You thought you saw this guy in a car,” said Jared. “Like you can recognize someone in a speeding car, Mattu!”

“I know Victor. It was him, Jared. He has found the right town. Perhaps through the Internet. Or perhaps just phone calls to the right resettlement agency. Soon he will find the
right house. Call everyone in your family. They must not go home.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Jared flipped open his cell. He hit Mopsy's number first. I better not have a roommate when I get to college, he thought. I can't handle it. I like distance.