Chapter 3

The Havenwood community center was usually a cheerful place.

Today, it felt invaded.

Brenda and her socialite friends were gathered near the entrance, their voices loud and grating.

Ms. Albright, the center's director, looked overwhelmed. Mr. Robertson, the volunteer coordinator, tried to engage them, but they mostly ignored him.

They saw me walk in.

"Oh, look who it is," one of the women sneered. "The town's charity case."

Brenda gave me a look that mixed pity and disdain. "Michael. Decided to show up after all?"

Billy Ray was holding court, a coffee cup in his hand.

He "accidentally" bumped into me, spilling hot coffee down my shirt and onto the floor.

"Clumsy me," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "Be a good chap and clean that up, will you, Mike? My shoes are Italian leather."

The women tittered.

I gritted my teeth, grabbed a cloth from the utility closet, and wiped the floor.

He watched me, a smug look on his face.

Later, the "main event" started – Billy Ray's donation announcement.

Sofia Ramirez, a bright ten-year-old I mentored, was standing near the refreshment table, her eyes wide with all the commotion.

Suddenly, Billy Ray let out a cry.

"My locket! It's gone!"

He clutched at his chest dramatically. "My antique gold locket! A family heirloom from my sainted mother!"

His eyes scanned the room, then fixed on Sofia.

"That little girl," he pointed. "She was standing right next to me. I saw her admiring it!"

Brenda rushed to his side. "Oh, Billy, no! Not your mother's locket!"

Sofia looked terrified. "I didn't take anything, sir."

"Of course she'd say that," one of the socialites chimed in. "These people..."

Billy Ray looked directly at me. "Perhaps she had help. Someone who's jealous of my success, someone who wants to make me look bad."

He gestured towards me. "Someone like him. He probably put her up to it."

The accusation hung in the air.

"That's ridiculous," I said, stepping forward. "Sofia wouldn't steal anything."

"Oh, defending your little accomplice?" Brenda sneered. "How pathetic you've become, Michael. A washed-up researcher, now a petty thief's mastermind."

Her friends joined in, their voices a chorus of scorn.

"He's clearly desperate."

"Probably needs the money."

Sofia started to cry.

"Stop it," I said, my voice firm. "You're scaring her."

Just as I said it, Billy Ray gasped, clutching his chest again.

He started wheezing, his face turning red.

"My... my asthma... the stress... you're causing this, Mike!" he choked out.

Brenda shot me a look of pure hatred. "See what you've done?"

She fumbled in her purse for an inhaler, helping Billy Ray use it.

He leaned against her, making weak, gasping sounds, his eyes still fixed on me with malice.

Ms. Albright wrung her hands. Mr. Robertson looked angry but helpless.

The scene was perfectly orchestrated. Billy Ray, the victim. Me, the villain.