Three nights after Kelvin disappeared, an uneasy silence settled over the farm.
The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, leaving the fields in darkness. Only the security lights around the farmhouse illuminated the yard.
Choolwe could not sleep.
She sat on the veranda with a cup of tea, reading once again the Covenant of Unity.
Her mother's words echoed in her mind:
"Never let fear make your decisions."
Suddenly...
A dog barked.
Then another.
Within seconds, every dog on the farm was barking furiously.
Choolwe stood up.
Something was wrong.
"Twaambo!" she called.
The young man rushed outside.
Before either of them could speak, they saw it.
A bright orange glow rising from the western side of the farm.
"The warehouse!" Twaambo shouted.
"It's on fire!"
---
The family ran toward the warehouse as flames climbed into the night sky.
Workers from nearby houses grabbed buckets of water.
Others called the fire brigade.
The dry season wind caused the fire to spread rapidly.
Inside the warehouse were hundreds of crates waiting to be delivered to market the following morning.
Years of equipment.
Seeds.
Tools.
Everything was in danger.
Chanda tried to run inside.
"My machinery!"
Inspector Simutwe, who had increased patrols around the farm, stopped him.
"No!"
"The roof could collapse."
Moments later, part of the roof crashed into the flames.
Everyone stepped back.
The heat was unbearable.
Tamara noticed movement near the fence.
"Someone's running!"
Inspector Simutwe and two officers chased the shadow into the darkness.
After several minutes, they returned.
"The person escaped."
"But we found this."
He held up a half-empty container that smelled strongly of petrol.
"This fire was started deliberately."
Silence fell over the crowd.
It wasn't an accident.
Someone had tried to destroy the farm.
---
By dawn, the fire had finally been extinguished.
The warehouse was badly damaged.
Several weeks' worth of harvested tomatoes had been destroyed.
Many workers stood silently, staring at the blackened building.
Some wept.
The harvest represented their wages.
Their children's school fees.
Their families' food.
Brian looked devastated.
"This is my fault."
Choolwe shook her head.
"No."
"The people responsible made this choice."
"You told us the truth."
"You helped protect us."
She climbed onto the back of a tractor so everyone could see her.
"My mother built this farm from almost nothing."
"She survived drought."
"She survived betrayal."
"She survived poverty."
She looked at the smoking ruins behind her.
"This fire is not the end."
"We will rebuild."
The workers applauded.
Hope slowly replaced despair.
---
Later that afternoon, forensic officers searched the burned warehouse.
Near the back entrance they found something unexpected.
A silver wristwatch.
Inspector Simutwe carefully examined it.
"It survived the fire."
The initials engraved on the back read:
K.M.
Choolwe's heart sank.
"Kelvin Mweemba."
Inspector Simutwe nodded.
"This may be the evidence we've been waiting for."
Just then, another officer hurried toward them.
"Inspector!"
"What is it?"
"We've received a report."
"Kelvin's vehicle has been found."
"Where?"
"Abandoned near the old bridge outside the district."
"Was he inside?"
The officer shook his head.
"No."
"But there was blood on the driver's seat."
Everyone exchanged worried glances.
Had Kelvin been injured?
Had someone turned against him?
Or was the blood part of another plan?
As the sun disappeared beyond the hills, Inspector Simutwe closed his notebook.
"I have a feeling this case is about to become much bigger than a land dispute."
Far away, hidden in an abandoned farmhouse, Kelvin slowly opened his eyes.
A bandage covered his wounded arm.
Standing beside him was Mr. Kunda.
"You've failed me once," Mr. Kunda said coldly.
"You won't fail me again."
Kelvin looked toward the window.
His voice was barely a whisper.
"I never wanted anyone to get hurt."
Mr. Kunda smiled without warmth.
"It's too late for regrets."
The battle for the farm had entered its most dangerous chapter.