The Cross Society

Chapter 3

The women were wailing.

It was a sound Ife had never heard before. Not on TV. Not in any movie. It was raw. It was animal. It came from somewhere deep, somewhere she didn't want to go.

She stood at the edge of the crowd, her feet rooted in the dust. She couldn't move closer. She couldn't look at the coffin. It was white. Amara was inside. That was all she could think. Just that. White. Amara. Inside.

The heat pressed down. The sun was high. She felt sweat trickling down the back of her neck. She didn't wipe it away.

Jake was beside her. She could feel his presence. She could feel his hand hovering near hers, waiting. He didn't take it. He was giving her space.

"Jake," she said. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"What?"

"I need to do this alone."

He nodded. He stepped back. He didn't leave. She could feel his eyes on her. She could feel him watching. She didn't look back.

She walked toward the crowd.

---

The women were gathered around the coffin. They were dressed in black. They were swaying. Their hands were raised. Their voices rose and fell like waves.

Ife stood at the back. She couldn't see the coffin. She could only see the backs of the women. The white fabric of their head ties. The dark fabric of their dresses.

Someone was crying. A sound like a wounded animal.

She didn't know who it was.

She didn't move.

---

Amara's mother was sitting in a chair.

It was the only chair in the clearing. She was wearing black. Her hands were folded in her lap. She wasn't crying. She was staring at nothing.

Ife walked toward her. The dust was thick beneath her feet. She knelt in front of her.

"Auntie," she said. "I'm so sorry."

Her aunt looked at her. Her eyes were dry. Her face was still.

"She talked about you," she said. "Every time she called, she talked about you. She said you were coming to visit. She said you'd see her next month."

Ife felt something on or face when she torch it tears she didn't bother to wipe it off.

"I was supposed to come," she said.

"Those were her words," her aunt said. "She said that every time. She always said that."

The words hung in the air.

Ife couldn't speak.

---

She walked away from the crowd.

She didn't know where she was going. She just knew she needed air. She needed space. She needed to breathe.

She stood under a tree, her back against the trunk. The bark was rough against her skin. She could feel it through her dress. The heat was still pressing down.

She saw a woman walking toward her.

She was young. In her twenties. She was wearing a black dress and a face that was too tired for someone her age. Her eyes were red. Her hands were shaking.

"You're Ife," she said.

"Yes."

"I'm Temi. I was a friend of Amara."

Ife nodded. She didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry," Temi said. "I'm so sorry. She was my best friend."

Temi's voice cracked. Her hands were shaking.

"She left something for you," Temi said.

"What?"

"A letter. She gave it to me before she died. She said if anything happened to her, I should give it to her cousin."

Ife stared at her.

"She said that?"

"Yes."

Temi reached into her bag. Her hands were shaking. She pulled out an envelope. It was worn. Creased. It looked like it had been handled many times.

Ife took it. She looked at the envelope. Amara's handwriting. The familiar loop on the "e." The way the letters slanted slightly to the right.

She recognized it immediately.

Her hands started to shake.

"Did you read it?" she asked.

"No. She asked me not to."

Ife looked at Temi. Her eyes were shifting. She was looking at the crowd. She was looking at the gate.

"Are you okay?" Ife asked.

"What? Yes. I'm fine."

She wasn't fine.She kept looking over her shoulder.

Ife didn't push. But she noticed.

---

Ife walked away from the crowd.

She found a spot away from the noise. Away from the wailing. Away from the eyes.

She sat on a rock. The sun was hot. The dust was thick. She looked at the envelope in her hands.

She hesitated.

She knew, somewhere deep and cold, that once she opened it, she couldn't go back.

She opened it.

Inside was a photograph. A man. Wealthy, in a suit. He was standing at some event. Chandeliers. Champagne. He looked comfortable. He looked like he owned everything.

And a note. Amara's handwriting. The loop on the "e." The dot slightly to the right.

"Nathan Cross. He's the one. He's behind everything."

She flipped the photograph over.

On the back, in tiny, careful letters:

"He's not who he seems. And he knows what I found."

She read it again. And again.

She didn't know who Nathan Cross was. She didn't know what Amara had found.

But she knew one thing: Amara didn't die in an accident. She was killed.

---

She walked back to the crowd. She found Temi standing near the gate. Her face was pale. Her hands were still shaking.

"Who is Nathan Cross?" Ife asked.

Temi shook her head.

"I don't know. But Amara was scared of him. She was terrified."

Ife looked at the photograph again. The man. The suit. The smile.

"He's behind everything."

She didn't know what "everything" meant.

Am going to get to the root of all of this. I will find justice for her.

She cried cleaning her eyes with the back of her hands.