Water Music Read Free Page A

Weve got to search this whole fucking area now, and its just trees and shit.
    Its nature, Ina, said Clare. Its beautiful.
    I grew up on the mines on theEast Rand, said Ina, turning her back on the mountain. I fucking hate nature.
    A mud-splattered truck appeared, bumping down the track. A man driving, next to him a woman bundled up in a blanket. The driver pulled over and got out. A weather-worn face. Ina Britz blocked him at the edge of the clearing, the crime-scene tape snapping between them.
    Im sorry, sir. No further.
    I have to get through,the man said. We live up the valley. The Mountain Men come our way sometimes. What happened here? Was there an accident?
    A horse rider found a little girl here this morning.
    Dead? he asked.
    Not yet. Ina turned to a warrant officer. Let them through.
    The bakkie went on towards the scatter of permaculture farms and retreats that had survived the suburban sprawl of Hout Bay. A couple of beehives,a childs red scooter on the back, the womans face in the window, turned towards them until they vanished in the trees.
    A Land Rover rounded the corner. Inside, a couple. A woman with a tumble of hair, black as Cassies, opened the door and ran across the clearing. The girl fell into her mothers arms, able to cry at last. The woman helped her child into the vehicle, as the girls father led thehorse away.
    A straggle of onlookers: riders, dog walkers, drifters. The tabloid that miraculously materialised at every accident and crime scene, the writer and photographer like some nicotine-stained yin and yang.
    You and you, Ina was bellowing at the uniformed officers closest to her. Get rid of these people. Block the access road. Tell the journalists theres a Community Forum later thatlldouble as a press conference, but for now they can fuck off.
    Clares phone vibrated, Mandla Njobes name flashing on the screen.
    Mandla, said Clare. Found something?
    The uniforms had blocked the gathering crowd and were moving forward, herding them back down the path.
    Looks like someone maybe a couple of people were up on the contour path last night.
    Can you see which way they went? askedClare, walking away from the noisy onlookers.
    No tracks, Doc, said Mandla. Not after all that rain.
    Give me the exact position, said Clare. Im coming up.
    Whats Njobe found? asked Ina as Clare tucked her phone into her jacket pocket.
    Looks like someone, maybe a couple of people, were up on the contour path last night, said Clare. Says he saw a place where they seem to have hung around a while.The rest of the tracks were washed away by the rain.
    Njobe can track anything, said Ina. Says the Bush War taught him.
    Ja, though he never says which side he fought on.
    Dont think it matters any more, said Ina.
    Clare walked swiftly between the trees. She took a footpath that vanished up Judas Peak, where Mandla and Gypsy were waiting. An unfurling of crows caught Clares eye, and she glimpsedturrets protruding from the pine forest. The replica of a Black Forest castle, a rich mans folly that had recently changed hands, according to the Peoples Post .
    The surrounding terrain was a nature reserve, with a ravine that led up the back of Table Mountain. Further down, an exclusive estate, each house positioned for privacy as well as security. Razor wire twirled atop perimeter fencing thatbacked onto the forest and the river. Clare paused to catch her breath. Had the little girl perhaps wandered away from the estate?
    She filed the thought for later, pushing on through the trees, soon reaching the firebreak that cut into the face of Judas Peak. Clare checked her orientation and took a short cut towards the contour path, a neglected track where encroaching undergrowth scratchedat her. A gate with a gleaming new padlock blocked her path. She ran her hand along the chain, its links icy to the touch. The electric fence spat like an angry cat. The fence was also new, as impenetrable as a game fence. There was live current running through it, the