Page 68 of Keeping Amanda
Was it a huge leap to think that Blair might’ve had something to do with this? Not really. She had more connections than the rest of the workers and volunteers. And she certainly hadn’t been happy when Amanda told her that she might want to adopt Bibi, the little girl Blair seemed so attached to.
Suddenly, anger replaced the uncertainty and confusion. She had no proof Blair had done anything, but there was no one else who had a reason to get the freaking DEA to knock on her door and search her place.
Pulling her cell out of her pocket, Amanda decided she was going to confront the woman. She probably wouldn’t admit anything, that she’d been the one to contact the DEA, but at least she’d know that Amanda was on to her and maybe she’d think twice about doing something like that again.
She had Blair’s office number saved in her contacts, and she clicked on it, eager to see if her suspicions were correct.
The phone rang four times, but it wasn’t Blair who answered.
“Desmond Williams.”
“Desmond? It’s Amanda. Why are you answering Blair’s phone?”
“Thank you for calling, and for your interest in our school. Yes, we can always use donations.”
Confused, Amanda said, “Did you hear me? It’s Amanda Rush. I’m calling from the States.”
“I can hear you just fine. And yes, blankets would always be welcome. As would food. Anything that is nonperishable is best.”
Something was wrong. Way wrong. It was obvious he didn’t want someone to know she was on the other end of the line. Blair? Was she in the same room, listening to the call?
“I’m calling because the Drug Enforcement Agency came to my apartment today, saying they got a tip that I’d brought abunch of cocaine into the country. They also knew I’d recently come from South America. Do you know anything about that?”
“I don’t. But I’m not surprised. You can come by anytime with those donations. We’d be happy to have them.”
“Was it Blair? What’s going on, Desmond?” Amanda was frustrated. And alarmed. Something was happening, and she obviously couldn’t get any answers from Desmond because of whoever was listening to his conversation. “Are the kids okay?” she asked, suddenly needing to knowthatmore than she needed intel about what had happened with the DEA.
“Yes. The kids are wonderful. Happy and healthy, thanks to donations like yours.”
Relief made Amanda feel dizzy.
“I must go now, but we appreciate your interest in donating. We are a small organization and need all the help we can get.”
“If you can call me later, please do,” Amanda said quickly. “I’m worried.”
Desmond hung up without responding.
Amanda had resisted calling Nash earlier, but after that phone call, she didn’t hesitate to reach out. She didn’t have the resources to figure out what was going on. But Nash did.
Rain whined at her feet. Maybe he felt her seesawing emotions. Amanda moved so she was sitting on the bench and reached down to reassure the dog. “It’s okay, Rain. I’m okay. Something’s going on back at the orphanage though. I have no idea what. But I think they need help. Maybe the rebels are back, and they’ve taken over. I don’t know. Nash will know what to do.”
Clicking on Nash’s number, Amanda held her breath, hoping he’d pick up.
He didn’t. It went to voicemail.
She left him a vague message, asking him to call her when he could. Letting him know it wasn’t anything life-or-death important, just something she needed to talk about.
Not sure what else she should be doing right now, Amanda decided to head back to her apartment. She needed to put everything back to rights. The more she thought about it, the more anxious she was to do just that. Nash wouldn’t be happy if he got there and saw the state those agents had left the place. His protective instincts would kick in and he’d probably freak out. She wanted to prevent him from doing anything that might hurt his career.
She got Rain back in the car then headed toward her apartment. She wasn’t worried that Nash hadn’t called her back yet. He’d warned her that there’d be times when he was in meetings and couldn’t use his phone.
Amanda arrived back at her complex and, after Rain did his business, she grabbed the mail from the mailroom then headed up to her apartment, determined to straighten the place up as best she could before Nash got home from work.
She put her keys and Rain’s leash on the hooks by the door, threw the mail onto the counter to go through later, and decided to start with the kitchen.
She’d just finished putting all the pots and pans and dishes back in their proper places when her phone rang.
Seeing Nash’s name on the screen made something inside of her ease. He’d help her figure out what was going on, of that she had no doubt.
