Instant Karma - Marissa Meyer Page 0,156

once-over, then nods and picks it up. “Thank you for your generosity.” Then her gaze shifts back to me. “But then, I guess you do owe us.”

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

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