Page 14 of Finding Amanda

"Shh," she whispered. Mark quieted.

"Fine," Gabriel said. "Tell her this isn't over."

"Why don't you leave her alone?" Alan asked.

"Why don't you mind your own business?"

Amanda could feel tension rising between the two men through the closed door. A moment later, it swung open, and Alan stepped inside. "He's gone."

She made her way back to the table and slumped into the chair, relaxing muscles she hadn't realized were clenched. "Thank you."

"Let me talk to him," Mark said through the telephone.

Alan was about to step out the door.

"To Alan?" she asked.

He turned, tilting his head to the side.

"Why?" she asked.

"Please? I just want to get his impression."

A conversation between Alan and Mark? For some reason, that didn't seem like a good idea. "Isn't my impression good enough?"

After a beat, Mark said gently, "Your impression is very important, but you're not impartial. I'm assuming he is, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Are you two friends or . . . something?"

Alan hovered near the door. She smiled at him. "We just met."

"Okay, then he's impartial. Can I talk to him, please?"

She covered the mouthpiece with the heel of her hand. "My husband wants to talk to you. Do you mind?"

Alan's eyebrows rose, and he glanced at her left hand. "Your husband?"

"Yes. His name is Mark."

"Sure."

He walked over, and she handed him the phone. "He's a little . . . intense."

"If you were my wife, knowing what just happened, I'd be intense too."

She released her grip on the phone, and Alan lifted it to his ear. "Hello?"

Mark stoppedmid-pace when he heard the man's voice. "Hi. I'm Amanda's husband, Mark. And you are . . . ?"

"Alan Morass."

He resumed his pacing. "How do you know my wife?"

"Uh, I don't really know her," Alan said. "She just looked like she needed help."

"What do you mean?"

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