the bus-station encounter, the missing sketch pages, the group home's rules, and the strange feeling that someone knew where she planned to go before she got there. She was exhausted when the interview ended. Rachel told her she could ask for breaks or corrections to her statement, and Sky said she wished somebody had told her that years earlier.
The investigator, Colin Rusk, contacted Martha's office later that afternoon. He said he wished to clarify the purpose of his work because he had been receiving requests that were outside the original agreement. Martha would not discuss Sky's confidential placement information with him, but she arranged for his information to be provided through the appropriate legal and child-protection channels. Rusk submitted a signed statement identifying Michael Ventry as the client who retained him to locate the girl. He also supplied copies of instructions requesting photographs of the Iron Jaws premises and information about whether the facility would accept her again if she were returned.
The statement did not prove that Rusk had committed a crime, and it did not by itself prove Michael intended physical harm. It did demonstrate that the reports concerning Sky's location were not merely the spontaneous concern of an unrelated citizen. Martha included the verified material in the court packet with a careful explanation of what it did and did not establish. She also asked whether officials had examined Michael's prior connection to Luther's custody proceedings, a question that could be addressed through records rather than accusations. The file was getting thicker, but more importantly, it was becoming easier to understand.
On the evening before the hearing, Sky visited the garage for an hour. Jimmy had covered most of the mural with paper so dust from an engine repair would not settle on its wet sections. He lifted one corner and showed her where he had preserved the unfinished smaller rider. "I didn't touch it," he said.
Sky stared at the outline. "I don't know if I'll ever finish her," she replied. "Then she waits," Jimmy said. "Paint doesn't get offended."
As the garage closed, Gregory approached with Luther's original napkin inside a protective sleeve. He offered it back to Sky, but she pushed it gently toward him. "Keep it safe until tomorrow," she said. "I don't want to lose it in court."
He nodded and placed it inside the folder Martha had prepared. It seemed to Gregory that the club's entire history had shrunk to the weight of a folded napkin. The symbol he had thought belonged only to dead friends was now evidence that a living child had a story of her own.