Zandile directs operations. “You interview that couple,” she tells two constables, pointing to the elderly couple sitting outside the shack to her right.
She turns to Detective Gloria Ngcobo and points to the group of youths who look like they partied all night. “Gloria, you handle this bunch. They look like they have not slept. It is possible they may have seen something. I will handle the spaza shop area and the owner. OK, guys, let’s scatter around. Get what you can. But we’ll need more people on the ground. Where the hell is the K9 Unit? They always take their time. Let’s get to work!”
As young constables start to question everyone they can see, Gloria looks at her friend with concern.
“Should we not wait for the Station Commander? He is on the way,” says Gloria. “My friend, I don’t think it’s wise that you interview the spaza shop owner. Remember what happened last time?”
What happened last time with a spaza shop owner in another part of the township where two girls went missing is this: Zandile lost the plot. A spaza shop owner in the same area had stood trial for murder after they found human body parts in his shop. He said his witchdoctor told him that the dark arts would bring immense wealth.
So when a girl went missing Zandile went straight to the nearest spaza shop and threatened him. Even when they proved he had a rock solid alibi, she did not let go. She followed him and threatened him when she was off-duty.
As Gloria thinks back to that time of Zandile’s frustrations, she notes that the same look of steely rage she had then, is now on her face again.
“Don’t worry about it,” she tells Gloria, looking past her with seething anger, her light-skinned face red with rage.
Gloria does not get an opportunity to ask what is wrong. Zandile leaps past her, almost knocking her to the ground. She seems to float over a small fence into the yard where the group of young people are congregated. She jabs her finger into the chest of a drunk young man, grabbing him by the collar.
“Do you know something? You look like you know something,” she says and shakes the young man so hard that the beer he holds slips from his hand.
Gloria pulls Zandile away, but she leaps back to the young man.
“Zandile, calm down. The K9 Unit is here,” says Gloria.
“You better not be hiding anything from us. If you are we will find out and you will be sorry!” Zandile screams. The perplexed young man cowers, even though she is leaving.
They make their way to the K9 Unit as officers with German shepherds on leashes make their way down the rugged, steep road to Mosko.
“Chill down, Zandile. What did he do?” asks Gloria.
“He was looking at me funny. He knows something.”
“We must have evidence before we act, Zandile. Please just cool down, my friend.”
“How can I? Another child is missing!”
“There are ways to do things. The community will not help us if we act like this. Cool down. I will get the girl’s clothes and deal with the K9 Unit. You are sweating buckets. You need to look at yourself in a mirror because you are scaring everyone. It’s like you are about to kill someone. Go back to the car and calm down.”
Zandile walks away and points the K9 Unit in the direction of Gloria as they pass her. She stands at the top, watching the proceedings in Mosko below.
All the residents of Mosko are out, watching this swarm of cops that has descended on their neighbourhood. The dogs take a whiff of a pink T-shirt of Philasande’s, supplied by her mother, then and bolt down the path she took. But the dogs lose the scent where Zandile crouched, at the place her mother saw her last. Dogs run around in circles; K9 officers scratch heads.
Gloria calls Zandile.
“Yes, hello. Gloria, are the dogs finding anything?”
“No, my friend, nothing. The officers are confused. They have never seen anything like this,” says Gloria.
Zandile’s voice breaks, “Maybe she is buried there.”
***
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