Richard stood beside it, holding a clipboard.
"Good morning, Miss Bennett."
"Good morning."
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
Richard opened the passenger door.
As Amara prepared to get inside, she noticed Daniel approaching from the entrance.
He was carrying a leather briefcase.
"Good morning," he said.
Richard looked surprised.
"Mr. Carter?"
Daniel nodded.
"I thought I'd join the visit."
Amara looked at him.
"You were invited?"
Daniel smiled.
"I spoke with Evelyn yesterday. She agreed that an additional candidate could provide a useful perspective."
Richard checked his clipboard.
"That wasn't included in the arrangements."
Daniel shrugged.
"Perhaps there was a misunderstanding."
Amara said nothing.
Richard hesitated, then took out his phone.
"Let me confirm."
He stepped away and made a call.
A few moments later, he returned.
"All right. Mr. Carter can accompany us."
Daniel smiled.
"Excellent."
Amara climbed into the vehicle.
Daniel sat beside her.
As they began driving, the city slowly disappeared behind them.
They passed commercial buildings, crowded intersections, and rows of residential apartments.
The farther they traveled, the older the neighborhood became.
Eventually, they entered Brookfield.
The streets were narrower.
Some buildings needed repairs, and small shops stood beside modest houses.
Children walked along the sidewalks carrying schoolbags.
Amara watched them through the window.
She thought about the eighty children Samuel had mentioned.
The vehicle turned into a small parking area beside a two-story building.
A faded sign above the entrance read:
BROOKFIELD COMMUNITY LEARNING CENTER.
Richard stepped out first.
A woman in her early forties approached them.
She wore a simple blue blouse and carried a notebook.
"Mr. Richard?"
"Yes. You must be Helen."
"That's right."
Richard introduced her to Amara and Daniel.
"This is Miss Bennett and Mr. Carter. They're here to understand the current situation."
Helen greeted them politely.
Then she looked toward the building.
"I appreciate you coming. We have been trying to get someone to visit for weeks."
Amara noticed the tiredness in her eyes.
"How are the children doing?"
Helen smiled faintly.
"They're doing their best."
She led them inside.
The first room contained several small tables and chairs.
A group of children were sitting quietly, working on handwritten exercises.
Some shared pencils.
Others shared books.
Amara immediately noticed that several chairs were empty.
"Where are the other students?" she asked.
Helen looked toward the hallway.
"We've had to reduce the number of children attending each session because we don't have enough materials."
"How many are still coming?"
"About forty."
"Out of eighty?"
Helen nodded.
Amara looked around the room.
A young boy was carefully copying a paragraph from a textbook.
The book's cover was torn, and several pages were missing.
A girl sitting beside him leaned over to read the same page.
Amara felt a heaviness in her chest.
She turned toward Helen.
"Can you show us the storage room?"
Helen nodded.
"Of course."
They followed her down the hallway.
The storage room was small.
Several empty shelves stood against the walls.
A few boxes were stacked in one corner.
Amara opened one.
Inside were old notebooks, damaged pencils, and a handful of exercise books.
She looked toward Helen.
"Is this everything?"
"For now."
"Where are the supplies that were supposed to arrive last month?"
Helen took a slow breath.
"We were told they had been delivered."
"Who told you that?"
"The regional office."
"Did anyone confirm receipt?"
Helen looked down at her notebook.
"We received a delivery document to sign."
Amara turned toward her.
"Did you sign it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because the supplies weren't here."
Amara exchanged a glance with Richard.
Daniel stepped forward.
"Perhaps the delivery was sent to another location."
Helen shook her head.
"We checked. The regional office told us the delivery was completed."
"Then there must be a logistical issue," Daniel said.
Helen looked at him.
"That's what they told us."
She paused.
"But the children don't care whether the problem is logistical or administrative. They just know they don't have the books."
Daniel had no immediate response.
Amara approached the woman.
"Did you report this?"
"Several times."
"And what happened?"
Helen gave a tired smile.
"Nothing."
She opened her notebook.
"Here are copies of the messages we sent. We also submitted a formal complaint."
Amara looked through the pages.
There were dates, names, and brief descriptions of each request.
Some had been submitted more than a month earlier.
None appeared to have received a meaningful response.
She turned toward Richard.
"Can we obtain the original delivery records?"
Richard nodded.
"I'll request them."
Amara looked back at Helen.
"Would you be willing to show us the classrooms and introduce us to some of the parents?"
"Yes."
As they walked down the corridor, Amara heard a small voice behind her.
"Excuse me."
She turned.
A boy of about ten years old stood near the doorway.
He was holding a notebook against his chest.
"Are you going to bring the books?"
Amara crouched slightly so she could speak to him at eye level.
"We're here to understand what happened."
The boy frowned.
"Does that mean we're getting the books?"
Amara hesitated.
She did not want to make a promise she could not keep.
"I don't know exactly when they'll arrive," she said gently. "But we're going to work on it."
The boy looked at her for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"Okay."
He turned and walked back into the classroom.
Amara watched him go.
Something inside her settled.
She no longer cared about impressing Samuel Whitmore.
She wanted those children to have their books.
And she intended to find out why they had been denied them.
But as she turned toward the corridor, she noticed Daniel standing near the storage room.
He was looking at a document Richard had just received on his phone.
His expression had changed.
He quickly lowered the screen.
Amara looked at him.
"Is something wrong?"
Daniel forced a smile.
"No. Everything is fine."
But his eyes moved briefly toward the empty shelves.
Then toward the delivery records.
And Amara began to suspect that the problem at Brookfield might be connected to something much larger than a delayed shipment.
Something that someone had worked very hard to keep hidden.