“Nash,” Remi said.
“Nash …?”
Sam looked at Remi, who in turn looked at Nasha. The child wiped her tears. “Atiku.”
“Age?”
“Eleven.”
The officer turned his attention to Sam. “You understand there’s a fine for leaving your keys in the car?”
Paying on the spot was standard fare in this country. “Of course,” Sam said as Remi gave a subtle nod to her left. He looked that direction and saw Hank patting his pockets, his expression turning to one of disbelief as he realized the keys had been stolen from him. Sam handed Remi his wallet, then left to divert Hank before the officer saw him. “Why don’t you wait with Amal in the shade. No sense all of us getting involved. Remi can take it from here.”
Realization dawned on Hank, the moment the officer took off in his patrol car, without their thief in custody. “That pickpocket stole the keys from me. He should be in jail.”
“Easy,” Sam said as Hank tried to move past him. Though he wasn’t drunk, Sam could smell the alcohol on his breath. “It keeps us all from having to come back for court.”
“Court?”
“Exactly. Remi and I don’t have that time. Do you?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said, leaning around Sam, trying to see what Remi was doing. “Is your wife really giving that kid money?”
“Of course not,” Sam said, though knowing Remi, she probably was. He led Hank back across the street. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be drinking?”
“Apparently not,” he said, patting his pockets once more. “What if they got my wallet?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
You cannot beat a child to take away its tears.
– AFRICAN PROVERB –
Nasha stuffed the money into the pocket of her pants, not even bothering to count it, half tempted to say nothing about where it came from. Something told her that if any of the Kalu brothers learned of the generosity of the Fargos, they’d try to exploit it, then punish her because she had the misfortune of getting caught stealing the car. It’d be worse if one of them somehow discovered how it was she’d managed to avoid being turned over to the police. She’d su
rvived this long on the streets because no one had realized the secret she’d taken such great pains to hide, especially from the Kalu brothers.
Being a girl was bad enough. Being an orphaned girl was worse. They were the ones who disappeared, never to be seen again.
Racing across the street, she dodged a car that suddenly pulled away from the curb. She didn’t stop until she reached the alley, out of sight of the police, the Fargos, and anyone else who might see her. When she was alone, she dug her hand into her pocket, counting the thick wad of bills, and almost crying real tears when she realized how much the Fargo woman had given her.
Chuk, one of the boys from her uncle’s village, ran up behind her. “Did you get anything?”
She nodded.
Small, like Nasha, his eyes widened when he saw the wad of bills she pulled from her pocket. “How much?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She handed a few bills to him, then gasped when she saw his swollen cheek. “Who did that?”
“No one,” he said, crumpling the money in his fist. “I fell.”
She didn’t believe him for a moment, but she was too excited by the Fargos’ gift. “Put that away before someone sees it or they’ll take it from you.”
He stuffed it into his pocket, then walked alongside her. “You won’t leave me here, will you?”
Nasha was surprised by the hurt in his voice. “Why would you say that?”
“Because now you have enough money to go home.”