THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTO
1728 Words
CHAPTER NINE: THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
The photograph arrived just after seven the next morning.
Naledi was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a cup of coffee she had forgotten to drink, when her phone vibrated. She expected another message from the police or Maseko. Instead, there was an image attached to a short message.
Found this in the old company archive. Look closely.
She opened it.
For several seconds, she didn't understand what she was seeing.
Her mother stood in the centre of the photograph, younger than Naledi remembered her, smiling with one hand resting lightly against Richard Mthembu's shoulder. Richard looked serious, almost uncomfortable. On the other side stood Portia.
Naledi's stomach tightened.
The three of them had known each other long before Portia became her stepmother.
But there was someone else in the photograph.
A woman stood slightly behind them. She had dark hair pulled away from her face and eyes that looked strangely familiar.
Naledi zoomed in.
She stared at the woman.
Then she called Maseko.
“Who is she?”
“I was hoping you'd tell me.”
“You sent it to me.”
“I know.”
“Then why don't you know?”
“Because I found the photograph through a company archive, not a family record.”
Naledi looked at the woman again.
“She looks like my mother.”
“She does.”
“Who is she?”
Maseko was quiet.
“Your mother's sister.”
Naledi stopped breathing.
“My mother didn't have a sister.”
“That's what the official family records say.”
“And what do you say?”
“I found a name.”
Naledi waited.
“Amara Dlamini.”
The name meant nothing.
“Where is she?”
“That's what I'm trying to find out.”
Naledi stared at the photograph.
A missing aunt.
A dead business partner.
Her mother's suspicions.
Portia's secrets.
Nothing about her family seemed accidental anymore.
“Send me everything you have.”
“I already sent the photograph.”
“Not just the photograph.”
“I'll send what I can.”
The message arrived moments later.
Naledi opened the documents one by one.
There were old company reports, meeting schedules and photographs from business functions. Most were ordinary. Richard appeared in several. Her father appeared in many.
Then she found another photograph dated eleven years before Richard's death.
The same four people were standing together.
Her mother.
Richard.
Portia.
Amara.
Naledi zoomed in on her mother.
She looked happy.
That hurt.
Naledi had spent years remembering her mother through small things: the smell of her perfume, the way she hummed while cooking, the soft voice she used when telling Naledi bedtime stories. She had almost forgotten what her mother looked like when she was completely carefree.
Now she was looking at proof that there had been a part of her life Naledi had never known.
“What happened at this event?” she asked when Maseko called.
“According to the archive, it was a business launch.”
“Then why does Richard look like someone just threatened him?”
Maseko laughed quietly.
“You notice everything.”
“I'm serious.”
“So am I.”
Naledi looked at the photograph again.
Richard wasn't smiling.
Portia was.
Amara wasn't looking at the camera.
She was looking directly at Richard.
There was something tense about the moment, something that made the photograph feel less like a celebration and more like evidence.
“What happened after this?” Naledi asked.
“Two days later, eleven million rand was moved.”
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
“From Richard's company?”
“Yes.”
“And then he died.”
“Yes.”
“And my mother?”
“She began asking questions.”
Naledi swallowed.
“So all four people in this photograph were connected to the money.”
“Possibly.”
“I hate that word.”
“What word?”
“Possibly.”
“You've learned quickly.”
“I had a good teacher.”
There was a pause.
Then Maseko said, “You should get some rest.”
“I slept.”
“For how long?”
“Enough.”
“That means less than four hours.”
Naledi smiled.
“You've become very bossy.”
“Someone has to be.”
She looked down at the photograph.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For staying.”
His voice softened.
“You don't have to thank me.”
“I do.”
“No.”
A quiet silence followed.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
If anything, Naledi had started to look forward to these silences.
She realised she was thinking about him differently.
Not only as the lawyer who was helping her.
Not only as the man who had been standing beside her when everything else fell apart.
She was thinking about his smile.
His voice.
The way he looked at her when she was angry.
The way his hand had found hers in the dark.
It was dangerous.
She knew that.
Her life was already complicated enough.
Yet when Maseko came to the house later that afternoon, she felt a strange sense of relief.
“You found something?” she asked.
He held up a folder.
“Maybe.”
They sat together in the living room.
Maseko opened the folder.
“Amara Dlamini had a bank account in Johannesburg.”
“Had?”
“It was closed eleven years ago.”
“By whom?”
“We're still checking.”
“Of course.”
He smiled.
“You're becoming impatient.”
“I've earned it.”
He handed her a document.
Naledi read it.
The account had been closed three days after Richard died.
Her pulse quickened.
“Three days.”
“Yes.”
“Everything happens in threes.”
Maseko looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Portia asked about my birthday three weeks ago. Richard died after the money moved. Now Amara's account closes three days after his death.”
He nodded slowly.
“It's a pattern.”
Naledi looked at the page.
“There must be more.”
“There is.”
He turned another page.
A withdrawal had been made from Amara's account the day before it closed.
The amount was not large.
But the destination caught Naledi's attention.
“Khumalo Holdings.”
Her stomach dropped.
“That's my father's company.”
“Yes.”
“Why would Amara send money there?”
“We don't know.”
Naledi stood.
“She was working with my mother.”
“Maybe.”
“And Portia.”
“Maybe.”
Naledi turned toward him.
“You're doing it again.”
“What?”
“Possibly.”
He smiled.
“You're right.”
She sat down again.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other.
Maseko reached across the table and touched her hand.
“Naledi.”
She looked at him.
“I need you to be careful.”
“I am.”
“No. You think you're being careful because you're angry.”
She pulled her hand back.
“I know what I'm doing.”
“I know you do.”
“Then why are you treating me like a child?”
“Because I'm scared.”
The words stopped her.
“Of what?”
“Of losing you.”
Naledi didn't know what to say.
Maseko looked away.
“I shouldn't have said that.”
“No.”
He looked back at her.
“Don't take it back.”
He was quiet.
Naledi leaned closer.
“You've been here through all of this.”
“I wanted to be.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about you.”
Her heart beat faster.
“This is a terrible time.”
“I know.”
She smiled sadly.
“Everything in my life seems to happen at the wrong time.”
“Maybe not everything.”
He moved closer.
Their kiss was gentle.
There was no dramatic promise, no sudden declaration that could erase everything around them. It was simply warmth in the middle of a terrible week.
When they pulled apart, Naledi rested her forehead against his.
“I don't know where this is going.”
“Neither do I.”
“That's frightening.”
“So is everything else.”
She laughed softly.
Then her phone rang.
The moment disappeared.
It was an unknown number.
Naledi answered.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice whispered, “You shouldn't trust him.”
“Who is this?”
“Ask your mother what happened the night Richard died.”
The call ended.
Naledi stared at the phone.
Maseko watched her.
“What did she say?”
Naledi told him.
He immediately reached for the phone.
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because if someone wants us to panic, I don't want to give them that.”
He studied her face.
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
She looked at the photograph again.
Her mother.
Richard.
Portia.
Amara.
Four people standing together before everything fell apart.
She picked up the photograph.
“There is something we're missing.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
She turned it over.
There was writing on the back.
A date.
And underneath it, a short sentence.
Ask him about the safe.
Naledi stared at the words.
“Maseko.”
He leaned over.
“What?”
She showed him.
His expression changed.
“Whose handwriting is that?”
Naledi looked closer.
She knew it.
It was her mother's.
“It's hers.”
Maseko took a slow breath.
“Then Richard left something behind.”
Naledi looked at the photograph.
Somewhere in the city, there was a safe containing something her mother had been desperate to protect.
And if Portia knew about it, they had very little time.
Naledi stood.
“Find the safe.”
Maseko looked at her.
“We will.”
This time, there was no hesitation in either of them.
They had crossed a line.
The investigation was no longer only about clearing Naledi's name.
It was about uncovering what her family had buried.
And whatever waited inside that safe could finally prove whether Portia had been protecting the family for twenty years—or destroying it from the inside.
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