CHAPTER EIGHT: THE FUNDRAISER

Saturday brought the annual street food fundraiser outside the Riverside Recreation Hall.
Daniel had planned to attend before the window incident because his friend Omar ran a barbecue stand there.
He went partly because he wanted one afternoon without thinking about the wall.
The crowd was larger than usual.
Families moved between picnic tables, children competed in ring toss, and a local band played beneath a blue canopy.
Then Daniel spotted a familiar banner near the entrance.
HAVEN WING RESCUE stretched across white fabric above a table filled with donation jars.
Carol stood behind the table in a green volunteer shirt.
She looked startled when she saw Daniel.
“I told the committee I was closing the booth,” she said.
“They asked me to come collect the equipment.

”
Daniel noticed a stack of brochures identical to the ones he’d seen at the county office.
“Why are these still here?” he asked.
Carol gathered them in a hurry.
“I was about to throw them away.”
A woman carrying a little girl’s backpack approached.
“Excuse me,” she said.
“We made a reservation to visit your bird sanctuary tomorrow.”
Carol stopped moving.
The woman introduced herself as Jasmine Nouri, a school librarian.
Her daughter, Ava, had spent months saving allowance money to sponsor a rescued bird named Pippin.
Jasmine held a printed confirmation that promised a private tour and an opportunity to watch Pippin being released into a spacious aviary.
Daniel recognized the photograph printed at the top.
It was the orange-chested bird from his kitchen wall.
“That bird hasn’t been released,

” he said.
Jasmine stared at him.
“Who are you?”
“I found her being kept in a hidden cage in my house.”
Ava looked between the adults.
“Is Pippin sick?” she asked.
Daniel crouched to meet her eyes.
“She’s getting care from people who know about birds,” he said.
“I don’t know when she’ll be able to fly freely.”
Jasmine put a hand over her mouth.
Carol gripped the table.
“Lewis told me she was being transferred last month,” she said.
Jasmine raised her phone.
“He’s been sending me photographs every week.”
She showed Daniel an image of Pippin perched beside a bright red flower.
The bird’s left wing looked straight in the picture.
Another photograph showed Pippin on a branch above a pond.
Daniel saw the same irregular white spot on the bird’s beak.
He knew photographs could be reused, and he didn’t pretend to know when they had been taken.
“Please show these to the investigators,” he said.
Jasmine looked at the donation jars.
“We gave them hundreds of dollars for her care.”
Carol sank onto the folding chair behind the table.
“People trusted me when I said Lewis was doing good work,” she whispered.
Jasmine’s expression hardened.
“Did you ever see the sanctuary?”
Carol looked down.
“No.”
Ava pulled on her mother’s sleeve.
“Can we help Pippin now?” she asked.
Jasmine knelt beside her.
“We can ask the people caring for her what she needs.”
Daniel watched Carol listen to the child’s question.
For months Carol had defended her nephew’s project as though loyalty were more important than knowing the truth.
Now an eight-year-old girl was asking the simplest possible question.
It was one Carol could no longer dodge.