Chapter 8

We understood when we saw the little knot of people waiting outside the office door: Dad, Megan—and a police officer.

As soon as Anson saw them, he turned to run the other way. I grabbed the back of his T-shirt.

“Nothing is going to make you look guiltier than running away,” I hissed. “Remember our practice. Stand up straight. Smile.”

“There he is!” Megan shrieked as soon as she saw us.

Dad looked both annoyed and concerned. “Megan, we were called out of our donor meeting by your urgent text. Then we arrive here to find you’ve called the police to Seaside Sanctuary. This is very serious.”

“Yes, it is, ma’am,” the officer agreed.

I could feel Anson trembling at my side. He was trying to hide slightly behind me.

“Yes, officer!” Megan narrowed her eyes. “It’s come to my notice that this boy is a known thief. And he was here when two valuable river otters were stolen. I believe he is your thief!” Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch, and she pointed a long pink nail at Anson.

The police officer blinked and took a step back. “I wasn’t aware you’d had a robbery here,” she said, turning to Mom.

“I… we…” Mom seemed uncertain. “We’ve had two otters disappear, but we’re not accusing anyone. Right now.” She glanced briefly at Anson, who was staring at the ground.

I felt as if I might throw up. Anger rolled in my stomach. How dare Megan call the police? Was she trying to throw us off the scent? Well, it wouldn’t work.

“Are you the owner of these otters?” the officer asked.

“Yes, we are,” Dad said. “They disappeared from their habitat about four days ago. We’re still not sure if they were lost or, ah, stolen. But we didn’t want to contact the police until we had time to gather more information.”

“But the thief is standing right in front of you!” Megan shouted. I could smell her from where I was standing—like armpits and warm perfume.

The police officer frowned at Megan. “I don’t know if you’re aware, ma’am, but making a false accusation to an officer is a crime in South Carolina. I’d think carefully before you speak.”

“Yes, thank you, officer,” Mom said. “We’re still examining the otter situation. We will certainly let you know if we suspect anyone in particular.” She again glanced quickly at Anson. I saw her. I could tell she couldn’t help it.

Megan’s eyes narrowed. “Well if you want to ignore what’s right in front of your face, that’s your own problem.” Her voice hardened. “I was only trying to help!” She turned and stalked away toward the parking lot.

We all stood there awkwardly. I didn’t know where to look, and I could tell no one else did either. Mom and Dad didn’t know I’d told Anson they suspected him. And they didn’t know we thought Megan was the thief.

We all stood there, hiding things from each other, until Mom muttered something about feeding the pelicans and hurried off. Dad trailed after her as the police officer climbed into her cruiser and took off down the driveway.

I exhaled a giant sigh of relief when they all left.

“What the heck was that?” Olivia asked once we were alone. “Why would Megan get the police involved if she’s the thief? Wouldn’t she want them to stay away?”

“I wonder if she’s doing the opposite,” I said. “Trying to throw us off her scent. If she makes a big fuss about Anson, no one will realize the real thief is standing right in front of them.”

“The accusation is out there,” Olivia said. “The police know. We have to find the otters, and fast, or Anson’s going to find himself upstate.”