A gunshot rang out.
Leo flinched and ran faster. Did the villagers have guns? That didn’t make any sense. He remembered machetes and stones, not—
Another gunshot.
Heart slamming, he dove behind a large bush planted on the side of one of the cottages. Taking several deep breaths, he fought to get his bearings. Crouching low, he stared toward the courtyard. Standing outside the SUV, Vivian fired shots from a gun.
Screaming, the men scattered, running for their lives in different directions.
“Leo!” Vivian shouted.
“Over here!” He cried out, standing.
“Stay there!” Vivian hurried around to the driver’s side. “I’ll come get you!”
Minutes later, in the SUV, Leo winced as he touched his back where he’d been stoned.
“You okay?” she asked, wiping away a tear as she sped down the dusty, narrow road, away from the village.
Giving her a wink, hoping to reassure her, he said, “Nothing a whole lot of sex won’t cure.”
10
Lilongwe, Malawi
“What the hell is that?” Matilda Ross recoiled, leaning away from the lidless shoebox Vivian held toward her.
“You sure you don’t know?” asked Leo, his tone harsh and accusing, even though he wasn’t quite sold on Vivian’s theory. He wasn’t sure that a woman who looked like Matilda—gorgeous with flawless skin and a tumbling mane of red hair she seemed to take pride in tossing over her shoulder—would need to get rid of a rival.
After meeting Wes and bringing him up to speed on the previous day’s events at the compound in Bingu, Vivian decided that during the meeting with Matilda, which Wes orchestrated, Leo would play the “bad cop” and she would be the “good cop.” Usually, when they questioned witnesses together, Vivian got to be the suspicious smartass, but she’d wanted to, hopefully, throw Matilda off. As Vivian explained, a good-looking woman like Matilda was used to men fawning over her, and would likely think she could charm Leo if he played softball with her. With Vivian in the sympathetic, caring role, Matilda might slip up, as she seemed like the kind of woman who didn’t get along with other women.
“Isn’t that your shoebox?” Leo asked, arms crossed, glaring at the redhead.
Stammering, Matilda shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Sitting next to Matilda on the couch, Vivian asked, her tone soft and compassionate, “The box is for a pair of Ferragamo flats. Do you know if you have a pair of shoes like that?”
“Seems as though she’s wearing those very shoes,” observed Wes from five feet away, where he leaned against his desk.
“Why did you put glass bottles and red food coloring in a Ferragamo shoe box?” asked Leo.
Matilda shook her head. “I don’t think I did that.”
“That’s your shoebox, right?” asked Leo, taking a step toward the couch.
Nodding, Matilda said, “I think so.”
“Do you think someone else would have put the bottles and food coloring in your shoebox?” asked Vivian.
“They must have,” said Matilda, shrugging. “I don’t think I did it. I don’t remember doing it, and I don’t know why I would do something like that.”
“Well, I think you did put the glass bottles and red food coloring in that shoebox,” said Leo. “And, I’ll tell you why you did: you put red food coloring in those bottles to make it look like there was blood in them.”
Her expression aghast, Matilda said, “Why on earth would I do that?”
“For the same reason you stole the HemaCube from your … friend-with-benefits … Dr. Farmer,” said Leo.
“Hema … what?” Matilda widened her eyes and shook her head. “What is that? And who is Dr. Farmer?”
“Dr. Farmer works at the Good Hope Village Clinic,” explained Vivian. “We spoke to him, and he indicated his belief that you might have … taken … his HemaCube, which is a medical device that analyzes blood.”
“Why on earth would Terry say that I took his … Hema-whatever?” asked Matilda.
“So, you do know Dr. Farmer?” asked Leo, catching Matilda’s slip.
“What?” Matilda looked chagrined for a moment. “Oh, well, yes, I know him. We are friends, but I don’t think of him as Dr. Farmer. I know him as Terry, so when you said Dr. Farmer, I was confused.”
“Okay, now that you’re no longer confused,” said Leo, “explain to us why you stole his HemaCube?”
“I thought you were going to explain it to me,” said Matilda, chin lifted, tone haughty.
“Oh, yeah, I was,” said Leo. “You stole the HemaCube, and you put food coloring in the glass bottles as part of your sick plot to make Francine Xarras appear to be a vampire.”
“A vampire?” Matilda let out a short, shrill laugh. “Are you serious? That’s ridiculous! Why would I want Francine to look like a vampire? How would I even do that?”
“Dr. Farmer … Terry,” Vivian began as she put the shoebox on the coffee table. “He told us that you and Francine Xarras were involved with the same man, Yves, the foundation’s accountant.”
“That’s absurd!” said Matilda.
“Dr. Farmer said you asked him about a witchdoctor who might be able to cast a spell on Francine to make her go away so you could have Yves to yourself,” said Vivian. “Do you know why he would say something like that?”
“Wes, what is going on?” Matilda stared at the founder, her gaze beseeching. “What are these people accusing me off?”
“We’re trying to get the truth,” said Leo.
“Well, I don’t have to answer your damn questions,” said Matilda. “And I won’t.”
“Will you answer my questions, Mattie?” asked Wes. “Will you tell me if you planted evidence in Francine’s room to make Lily think that she was a vampire?”
“Wes, how could you ask me something like that?” Matilda gasped. “Why would I do something so horrible?”
Leo said, “Because you wanted to get rid of Francine and have Yves to yourself.”
Matilda shook her head. “That’s not true!”
“Honey, we found the HemaCube and some small glass bottles that looked like they were filled with blood in Francine’s room,” said Vivian. “The bottles in Francine’s room look exactly like the bottles
