jaw. “Yeah. Maybe. I think so. Um. Give me a minute.” He takes out his phone and walks away, not out of sight, but far enough that I can’t tell what he’s doing. Morgan and I exchange glances. This corridor shares a wall with the theater, and though the soundproofing is decent, every now and then I can catch bits of Rosa’s speech. Not what she’s saying, but the passion in her tone.
Quint holds the phone to his ear, making a call. I frown. Is he calling the police?
The crowd in the theater erupts in cheers. Morgan inhales a long breath. “Dinnertime.”
I nod. Nothing will be resolved tonight. We should let Rosa enjoy the gala. We don’t need to make a scene.
But I want to enjoy the gala, too. I want to be here, to be a part of this. I don’t want people to look at me and see the selfish girl that took money from animals in need.
And, if Shauna is guilty, I really don’t want her to get away with this for a minute longer.
It seems like Quint’s conversation goes on forever. He keeps his voice low. There’s a lot of uh-huhing, a lot of okaying, and a lot of numbers, which doesn’t make any sense to me.
Finally, he pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up. And then he just stands there, facing away from us, his shoulder against the wall, his head low.
I gulp and dare to approach him. “Quint? What did you find out?”
He shifts his face farther away from me and raises a fist to his mouth. I hear him release a shaky breath. “Um. Yep.” His head is still lowered as he turns and presses his back against the wall. He scratches one of his eyebrows. “That was the third-party company that runs the ticket sales for us. They checked, and, uh, sure enough, there are two bank accounts linked to tonight’s sales. The Fortuna Beach Sea Animal Rescue Center … and Shauna Crandon.”
I close my eyes. Relief hits me hard. Relief and satisfaction. It may not prove that Shauna took the money from the beach cleanup, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s close enough.
But all those thoughts are swept away when I open my eyes and find Quint staring at me, his eyes awash with more emotions than I can name. He looks miserable.
“Prudence,” he whispers, his voice strained. Which is when I realize that what I’m looking at is remorse. “I—”
“Later,” I say, cutting him off. Though I’ve imagined Quint begging me for forgiveness plenty of times these past few weeks, now that we’re here, I don’t know what to do with the ragged feelings in my chest. Self-absorbed. Judgmental. Hypocrite.
He flinches, and I know my tone was harsh, but so was his when he said those awful things.
“All right!” says Morgan, clapping her hands. “Now what do we do?”
“We have to tell my mom,” says Quint. “After that, I don’t know. I guess we call the police?”
Silence descends on us as we consider that. How serious that seems. But this is serious. I thought twelve hundred dollars missing from a big glass jar was a big deal, but if this really has been going on for years, then we could be talking thousands of dollars. Tens of thousands of dollars. Maybe more. This isn’t a petty crime.
“Do you think she could go to jail?” I ask, and I can tell as soon as the words leave me that Quint and Morgan were thinking the same thing. It’s hard to imagine Shauna in a jumpsuit and prison cell.
“Probably,” says Morgan. “If Rosa decides to press charges.”
“I guess that’s up to her.” Quint draws himself up, squaring his shoulders. “All right. Let’s go find Mom.”
The theater lobby is full of excited chatter. Trish is currently acting as DJ and “With a Little Help from My Friends” by the Beatles is playing. The three of us pause, scanning the crowded room. Though lots of guests have taken their seats and started on their cheeseburgers, plenty of people are loitering by the silent auction table and around Quint’s photos. A few others are chatting with Trish and flipping through her karaoke songbook, maybe gearing up to perform once dinner is over.
Rather than pay the exorbitant amount it would have cost for professional servers, food is being passed by more volunteers, including a fair amount of students I recognize from our high school, all wearing matching yellow volunteer shirts as they