The president looked toward the teenager, then toward the backpack hanging from his shoulder. He immediately understood how dangerous the situation could become. If he handled it badly, the boy might believe that everything he had been offered over the previous days had been nothing more than a trap.
The teenager stepped backward.
"I didn't take anything."
The president raised one hand.
"Nobody's searching you."
The boy looked toward the door.
"I want to leave."
"Okay."
The treasurer frowned.
"But we need to know where the part went."
The president turned sharply.
"Then we'll check the inventory and the cameras."
The teenager's breathing quickened.
"I didn't touch anything."
The president faced him again.
"I hear you."
The boy's eyes filled with anger.
"You don't believe me."
"I didn't say that."
"You think because I don't have a house, I came here to steal."
The words struck the room like a physical blow.
Several club members stopped working.
The president looked at the teenager's face and remembered the first afternoon, when he had grabbed the boy without asking a single question. He could see that the memory was still alive in the teenager's mind.
"No," the president said.
The boy shook his head.
"Everybody does."
He turned toward the doorway.
The president didn't block him.
"You're free to go. But you don't have to leave because somebody made an accusation."
The teenager stopped.
His eyes moved from the president to the treasurer.
"Then why are you all looking at my bag?"
Nobody answered.
That silence was enough.
The boy walked out into the rain.
The president stood motionless for several seconds.
Then he turned toward the treasurer.
"Who told you the missing part was in his bag?"
The treasurer looked confused.
"The lead mechanic said he saw the kid near the parts room."
"When?"
"Earlier."
"The kid was sorting tools in the front of the garage."
"Maybe he went back there."
The president shook his head.
"Check the cameras."
They went into the office.
The recording from the front entrance showed the teenager arriving with the family services coordinator. It showed him placing his backpack beneath the sorting table, then spending nearly an hour working in the same area. At no point did he enter the parts room.
The president switched to the side camera.
The lead mechanic appeared shortly after eleven.
He carried his toolbox toward the rear storage area, paused near the sorting table, and glanced around. The camera angle was partially obstructed by a shelving unit, but a few seconds later he bent briefly beside the teenager's backpack while the boy was facing away.
When he stood, his hand was empty.
The president felt a chill.
"Play that again."
The treasurer rewound the recording.
They watched the movement a second time.