She had a temporary lawful address.
An attorney involved.
A caseworker who knew where she was.
That reduced one danger.
Michael Ventry created another.
Jeff had a talent for internet research but Gregory stopped him before it became reckless.
“No following.”
“I wasn’t.”
“No fake accounts.”
“I wasn’t.”
“No contacting Ventry.”
“I know.”
“No digging into private records.”
Jeff rolled his eyes.
“I understand laws.”
“You were searching divorce filings at two in the morning.”
“Public filings.”
“Go outside.”
Instead, Martha hired a licensed investigator named Celeste Warren to review the Ventry issue properly.
Celeste verified that Michael Ventry had indeed retained a private investigator.
The investigator’s assignment was to locate Sky after her disappearance.
On paper, the reason given was concern for a vulnerable minor connected to a deceased family acquaintance.
That was not unlawful.
Then Celeste found old emails from the custody dispute through discovery requests Martha pursued in court.
Michael had contacted the evaluator’s office years earlier.
He supplied photographs of Iron Jaws members from unrelated incidents.
He described Luther as violent.
He implied Sky would be exposed to criminal activity.
Some information was true.
Some exaggerated.
Some unsupported.
Why?
Grief.
Obsession.
Revenge.
Michael believed Luther had caused Damon Ventry’s crash despite the police findings.
After Luther died, Michael apparently redirected the anger toward anything that preserved Luther’s memory.
The Iron Jaws.
Then Sky.
He had no legal right to her.
But he did have influence over the narrative around Luther.
That mattered in the old custody case.
Martha was furious.
“Not because it proves a conspiracy.”
She told Gregory.
“Because it may show the old evaluator relied on adversarial information without properly establishing relevance.”
Gregory leaned forward.
“So we can overturn it.”
“There is nothing to overturn now. Luther is dead.”
The words hit.
Martha softened.
“But it helps explain the history.”
Then the private investigator appeared outside Lucy’s house.
Not hidden.
Parked legally across the street.
Sky saw the car through the curtain and stopped breathing.
Lucy found her crouched beside the kitchen wall.
“What happened?”
“That car.”
Lucy looked.
Gray sedan.
Man inside.
She did not send Gregory.
Did not send Terry.
She called Martha.
Martha called Dana.
Dana called local police for a welfare check because Sky had reported prior unwanted contact connected to Ventry.
The officer spoke to the driver.
He identified himself as a licensed investigator.
He said he was verifying Sky’s location.
The officer told him the child was in a known placement and that any further contact should go through the agency or counsel.
The investigator left.
No chase.
No confrontation.
No biker showdown.
That helped Sky more than Gregory understood.
That night, she said:
“You didn’t go after him.”
Lucy looked up from washing dishes.
“No.”
“Gregory wanted to.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you let him?”
“Because protecting you and proving we can protect you are the same job right now.”
Sky thought about that.
Two days later, she unpacked half her backpack.
Not all.
Half.
At the garage, she kept painting.
Jimmy became her teacher even while insisting Luther deserved most of the credit.
“You overwork highlights.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
“Hollow liked highlights.”
“Hollow liked attention.”
Sky smiled.
“He said you couldn’t paint a straight flame.”
Jimmy pointed a brush at her.
“That dead man has been slandering me for nine years.”
For the first time since arriving, Sky laughed hard enough to bend forward.
Gregory heard it from the office.
He sat down abruptly.
Lucy found him staring at nothing.
“You okay?”
“Haven’t heard that sound from her.”
“Neither have I.”
Gregory looked toward the paint bay.