Someone Derek should have recognized.

Someone he might have respected if he had met him in a gym instead of a shopping mall.

Derek drove to an old boxing and judo club on the east side of the city.

The building was small.

Brick walls.

Faded paint.

A sign above the entrance read:

HALL COMMUNITY ATHLETICS.

He had found the address in an old newspaper article.

Arthur had coached there years ago.

Derek walked inside.

A dozen teenagers were practicing basic grappling movements on worn mats.

An elderly instructor stood near the wall, correcting their technique.

Derek approached.

“Excuse me.”

The instructor turned.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for information about Arthur Bell.”

The man’s expression changed.

“Why?”

Derek swallowed.

“I think I made a mistake.”

The instructor studied him.

Then recognition crossed his face.

“You’re the kid from the mall.”

Derek nodded.

The old man folded his arms.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here.”

“I know.”

“You attacked Arthur.”

“I know.”

“You did it in front of children.”

Derek looked down.

“I know.”

The instructor stepped closer.

“Then what do you want?”

Derek’s voice became quiet.

“I want to know who he is.”

The old man stared at him.

Then he pointed toward the wall.

Dozens of photographs covered the bricks.

Championship teams.

Youth programs.

Old tournaments.

Fundraisers.

In the center was a photograph of a much younger Arthur Bell standing beside a group of teenage athletes.

One of them held a championship trophy.

Another had his arm in a sling.

All of them were smiling.

“Arthur Bell taught here for almost twenty years,” the instructor said.

“He coached state champions, national champions, even athletes who went on to compete internationally.”

Derek looked at the photograph.

“He was that good?”

The instructor gave him a hard stare.

“Good enough that men twice your size used to struggle to stay on their feet against him.”

Derek felt his stomach tighten.

“Then why does he work as Santa?”

The instructor’s expression softened.

“His wife.”

Derek turned toward him.

“She started a Christmas outreach program. Families who couldn’t afford gifts. Kids in shelters. Children whose parents were sick.”