My mouth dries. I’d been hoping that maybe Quint and Rosa wouldn’t spread gossip about me and the missing money, but clearly that was too much to ask.

“Excuse you,” says Ari. “Prudence worked her butt off trying to help that center! You all owe her.”

Morgan scoffs. “Yeah. Sure. Just, a piece of advice? Keep a close eye on that cash register.”

Snarling, Jude grabs the gift basket out of her hands. She makes a startled noise.

“You know what?” he says. “We’ve changed our mind. Good luck with the auction.”

Morgan blinks—at him, at the basket—before shrugging. “Fine. It’s not that great of a prize, anyway.”

“No, hold on,” I say. “Jude, give it back to her. Like Dad said, the animals shouldn’t be punished just because I was blamed for something I didn’t do.”

Morgan faces me, her hands on her hips. “Oh yeah, I heard how you tried to deny it. Nice try, when you were literally caught holding the money.”

“I didn’t take anything,” I say, working hard to keep my tone even. “I don’t know what happened to that money, but I don’t have it and I never did.”

“Uh-huh. You know what’s really sad about all this?” Morgan approaches the counter that divides us. “All the things you were doing, they were actually working. If you hadn’t stolen that money, the beach cleanup would have been one of the most successful one-day fundraisers we’ve ever had. You were actually making a difference for those animals. Too bad you had to go all ‘selfish human’ and ruin it.”

I have to bite back my words. I know nothing I can say will convince her of my innocence.

Seeing that I have no response, Morgan snatches the gift basket from Jude and starts to head back to the door.

“Hold on,” I call.

She pauses. Sighs. Slowly turns back, scowling.

But I don’t care what she thinks. Something she said is resonating with me, reminding me of something Rosa said months ago.

They’ve had fundraisers, but they’re never successful. They never bring in enough money to be worthwhile.

“Why is that?” I say out loud.

Morgan’s glare deepens. “What?”

“The center has had fundraisers before. They’ve been trying to find ways to raise money for years. But … I show up, plan one little beach cleanup event, and suddenly it’s the most successful one-day fundraiser you’ve ever had?”

“No, it wasn’t,” says Morgan, with a harsh laugh. “Because the money mysteriously vanished, remember?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Suddenly jittery, I hop off the stool and come around the counter. “Maybe this has happened before. In fact … I bet this has happened a lot. What if every time the center has hosted a fundraiser, some of the money’s gone missing? That’s why the campaigns are never successful.” I press my hands back through my hair. “That’s it. That’s how I can prove it wasn’t me. This has happened before, over and over again … long before I ever became a volunteer!”

Morgan looks at me like I’ve just grown a tail. “Are you really trying to convince me that—”

“I’m not trying to convince you of anything!” I snap. “I know it wasn’t me. I figured it got lost or misplaced or maybe that beachcomber made a mistake and didn’t donate the money after all. Because what sort of person would steal from an animal rescue?”

Morgan gives me a seething look, but I ignore her.

The question rings in my head, like it should have been ringing all month. The signs. The clues.

Has this happened before?

It doesn’t make sense that all their fundraisers have been so disappointing in the past. Clearly, people want to help the center. They care about the work.

But if money was coming in, it was also going out.

Who would do it?

And why?

I think about what Quint said. Crime scene 101. Opportunity and motive.

It has to be someone who’s been there awhile. Long enough for Rosa to give up on fundraising efforts altogether. Someone who had access to the money they were bringing in.

I don’t realize I’ve started pacing until I stop cold.

“Shauna,” I whisper.

Morgan laughs. “Shauna? The sweet little old grandma who volunteers her time to animals in need?”

“She doesn’t volunteer. She’s a paid employee.”

“Oh! Well, then she must be a criminal.”

“Look. I don’t know if it was her. But I know it wasn’t me. And she’s been there for years! Plus, she does all the bookkeeping, handles all the money. She could easily be skimming some off the top. And—” I gasp. “At the beach. I saw her holding the jar. She was the one who brought it back to the center. She could have taken some out anytime, and no one would ever have known.”

Morgan rolls her eyes. “I’ve heard enough. Guess I can’t blame you for trying, but wouldn’t it be easier to just confess, rather than trying to stick the blame on someone else? On Shauna of all people?”

“And the boots! It wasn’t two days after the cleanup that she wore those brand-new boots. Or—brand-new … vintage boots. Whatever. Those can’t be cheap. And right after I got fired, I saw her with the earring, the one that was lost? And it’s a real diamond.”

Morgan guffaws. “So now you’re going to tell me she stole the earring, too?”

“No! I think she bought it from the pawnshop, and I know it wasn’t cheap. I always thought that jewelry she wears was costume jewelry, but if not … then how is she paying for it all? Rosa can’t be paying her that much.”

Morgan shrugs. “Social security? A pension? She retired, like, twenty years ago. She must have done pretty well for herself.”

My brow crinkles. Morgan is right. Shauna could have retired wealthy. Maybe working at the center isn’t about the money at all, just something to keep her busy, to feel like she’s doing something worthwhile.

I swallow, knowing that I could have this all wrong. I could be grasping for anything to help clear my name, and obviously, I have no real evidence that Shauna has done anything. I can’t go accusing her without proof.

I know how that feels, and I refuse to do it to someone else.

“What’s her last name?” asks Jude.

I turn to him. I’d forgotten he and Ari were there, but they’re both staring at me and Morgan like we’re on CSI, Fortuna Beach edition.

I have no idea what Shauna’s last name is, but Morgan says, “Crandon, I think.”

Jude types something into his phone.

Morgan crosses her arms, looking from him to me, to Ari.

“Yes!” Jude yelps, startling us. His grin is stretched wide, but as he looks up, he quickly schools it into a disturbed frown. “I mean, actually, this is kind of awful. But—Pru, this should be enough to at least have her looked into.”

He hands me his phone. He’s found a news article from a Los Angeles newspaper. There’s a picture of Shauna at the top, wearing a slick business suit. She’s quite a bit younger, with her hair just beginning to gray.

The headline: ORANGE COUNTY NONPROFIT DROPS CHARGES AGAINST BOOKKEEPER ACCUSED OF EMBEZZLING MORE THAN $200,000.

“No way,” says Morgan, grabbing the phone from my hand.

“Hey!” I try to grab it back, but she turns her back on me and starts scrolling through the article. I huff and read over her shoulder.

According to the article, Shauna worked at another nonprofit, one that helped provide services to the homeless, for six years before she was suspected of embezzling money in order to make personal purchases, and even to pay her bills. She was fired, but the charges were ultimately dropped.

“Why would they drop the charges?” asks Ari, crowding in beside us.

“It doesn’t say.” Morgan hands the phone back to me, looking dazed. “Legal battles are expensive and time-consuming. Maybe they just didn’t want to be bothered with it.”

“Or maybe they didn’t have enough evidence?” I suggest.

Morgan shakes her head. “You’d think, once they knew about it, evidence would be pretty easy to find. She was probably using money from the business account to buy things online and write … checks … for…” Her eyes go distant. Her jaw falls. “No. The gala donations!”

I pass the phone back to Jude, who is preening like he’s just solved the biggest mystery of the year.

“What gala donations?” I ask.

“We set the ticket cost for the gala really low, but when people buy their tickets, they can also make an extra donation, completely optional.”

“And?”

“And no one donated extra money. It’s been a complete bust. Tons of ticket sales—we might even sell out the event by tonight—but extra donations? Not happening. It’s been driving Quint crazy. You should hear him rant about what a terrible idea it was to keep the price low, how much money we’ve missed out on doing it this way.”

“I bet people are donating extra!” Ari says, suddenly excited. “But the money is going to her.”

Morgan nods. “She’s the one who set up the online sales. I bet she’s having all the bonus donations routed straight to her own account, bypassing the center entirely.”

I slap a hand over my mouth, disgusted. “Who would do something like that?”

Morgan gestures at Jude’s phone. “Her, evidently. She’s done it before.” Then a shadow comes over Morgan’s face as she looks at me. Not with scorn, but … guilt? She curses lowly to herself, shaking her head. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

“You’re not the one who fired me,” I say, grabbing one of the flyers off the counter. I’ve looked at it a thousand times. The illustrated yellow submarine. The bright retro-style text.

Spend an evening aboard the Yellow Submarine, in support of the Fortuna Beach Sea Animal Rescue Center. Good food, good friends, and good karma!