Then a third.
The footage didn't show exactly what the mechanic had done, but the timing was impossible to ignore. The man who had reported a missing component had been near the teenager's unattended bag, and the boy had never entered the area where the part was supposedly stored.
The president pushed back his chair.
"Where's the lead mechanic?"
The treasurer checked his phone.
"Already left."
"Call him."
The treasurer dialed.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
The president stared at the monitor.
Then he looked toward the garage entrance.
The teenager was gone.
And the old biker suddenly understood that someone might have tried to turn a frightened child into a convenient suspect.
The president called the family services coordinator immediately.
He told her what had happened, including the accusation, the boy's departure, and the suspicious camera footage. He didn't attempt to minimize his own responsibility. He admitted that the teenager had become distressed and that he had allowed the situation to unfold before fully understanding it.
The coordinator listened carefully.
"Do you know where he went?"
"No."
"Was he supposed to meet his transport here?"
"Yes."
She sighed.
"I'll contact the placement team. We need to make sure he's safe."
The president looked toward the rain.
"Should I go looking for him?"
"You can help identify places he might go, but don't chase him or make him feel hunted. If you find him, stay calm and let him know we're trying to help."
The president nodded.
"I understand."
He hung up and turned toward the treasurer.
"Call everyone who was here this morning. I want a complete account of what they saw."
The treasurer looked at the computer.
"What about the missing part?"
"Don't touch the kid's belongings if they're found. Preserve the recordings. We need to document this properly."
The treasurer nodded.
The president pulled on his leather vest.
"Where are you going?"
"To find the boy."
He stopped at the doorway.
"And when the lead mechanic comes back, nobody lets him near the office records or security system."
The treasurer stared at him.
"You really think he set this up?"
The president looked toward the Shovelhead.
"I think somebody's been lying to us for a long time."
The rain had strengthened by the time the teenager reached the edge of town.
He walked quickly, keeping his head down as cars splashed water across the pavement. His backpack felt heavier than usual, and his stomach twisted with fear. He had wanted to believe the garage was different, that the old biker's apology meant something, and that the people there saw him as more than a hungry kid with nowhere to sleep.
Now he felt foolish.