Michael clenched his jaw. Not on my watch.
The next morning, Michael returned, blending into the background again. He watched as Patricia, the manager, opened the drawer and frowned.
“Short again,” she muttered. “This can’t keep happening.”
Her eyes flicked nervously toward Henry, who was tying his apron.
Before she could speak, Troy swooped in, voice dripping with fake concern. “Patricia, I hate to say it, but… every time money’s gone missing, Henry’s been around. Maybe he’s slipping bills out when no one’s looking.”
Megan nodded quickly. “Yeah, I noticed the same. He’s always ‘helping customers.’ But maybe it’s just his cover.”
Henry froze. His face went pale. “That’s not true,” he said quietly. “I’d never—”
But Patricia raised her hand, torn. “Henry, you know I respect you, but the numbers don’t lie. I can’t ignore repeated shortages.”
