Gregory approached.
He did not touch the wet paint.
Instead, he walked slowly around the tank.
“She did this in an hour?”
Jimmy nodded.
Gregory looked at Sky.
“Hollow taught you.”
“Yes.”
“How long did you practice after he died?”
“Every day I could.”
That afternoon, nobody told Sky to leave.
Gregory did not announce that she could stay.
Iron Jaws rarely handled emotional decisions formally.
Jimmy found her a helmet that needed repainting.
Then a fender.
Terry brought her a sandwich and claimed it was extra.
Lucy Barrett arrived around six carrying a folder of bookkeeping documents and immediately stopped when she saw Sky.
Lucy was forty-seven and had managed Iron Jaws paperwork for almost fifteen years.
She was not a patched club member.
She was also the only person alive who could tell Gregory he had filled out a tax form incorrectly and survive the conversation without argument.
“Who’s the kid?”
“Hollow’s sister,” Terry said.
Lucy stared.
Sky kept painting.
Lucy looked at Gregory.
“You want to try that sentence again?”
Gregory told her.
Not much.
The napkin.
The name.
The bus station.
Lucy’s expression changed.
She walked toward Sky.
“You eat?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
Sky glanced at Terry.
“Sandwich.”
“One sandwich?”
Sky shrugged.
Lucy disappeared.
Twenty minutes later she returned with soup, bread, fruit, and a bottle of water.
Sky looked suspicious.
“I don’t have money for that.”
Lucy placed everything beside her.
“Nobody asked.”
“I’m working.”
“So work after you eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Lucy sat down.
“Fine.”
Sky looked at her.
Lucy opened her own container of soup.
“I am.”
She began eating.
Five minutes later, Sky did too.
That night, Sky fell asleep sitting in an office chair.
Jimmy found her after midnight.
Her sketchbook rested open across her lap.
He did not wake her.
Terry found an old folding cot.
Lucy brought a clean blanket from her car.
Gregory stood in the doorway while they arranged the back office.
“This can’t become permanent,” Terry said quietly.
Gregory knew.
“She’s fourteen.”
“I know.”
“If she’s reported missing, we have problems.”
“I know.”
“We need to call somebody.”
Gregory looked through the office doorway.
Sky had curled beneath the blanket without removing her shoes.
“We call the right somebody.”
“That distinction going to matter when police show up?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
Terry rubbed one hand over his face.
“I’ve got three kids at home, Greg.”
“I know.”
“So I’m looking at this differently.”
“You should.”
“She needs help. I’m not arguing that.”
“I know.”
“But helping isn’t pretending laws disappear because Hollow wore our patch.”
Gregory looked at him.
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Good.”
Terry nodded toward the sleeping girl.
“Then tomorrow, we figure out who has legal responsibility for her.”
They tried.
Sky did not cooperate easily.
The next morning Terry found her awake before sunrise.
She sat at the workbench beneath a bare bulb, drawing.
“Coffee?”
“No.”
“Hot chocolate?”
Sky looked embarrassed.
“Maybe.”
Terry made one.
He sat opposite her.
“You got people looking for you?”
Sky kept drawing.
“Probably.”
“Police?”