Photographs.
Club insurance.
Donation receipts.
Then Lucy found a thin folder labeled HOLLOW — FAMILY.
Inside was a copy of Luther Holloway’s petition for guardianship of Sky.
Filed ten years earlier.
Sky had been four.
Her mother, Danielle, was already seriously ill.
Luther sought temporary custody during hospital treatment and permanent guardianship if Danielle could no longer care for her.
The petition included home inspection records.
Employment verification.
References.
A statement from Gregory.
A statement from Lucy.
And an evaluator’s report.
The evaluator acknowledged Luther’s stable employment as a mechanic and painter, clean residence, strong bond with Sky, and lack of recent criminal convictions.
But concerns centered heavily on his association with the Iron Jaws.
The club had a rougher history then.
Fights.
Noise complaints.
One former member with drug charges.
None directly involving Luther’s caregiving.
Still, the report recommended against placement.
Another section referenced allegations that Luther had been involved in motorcycle-club violence.
The source was unclear.
Sealed supporting documents had not been kept with the copy.
Luther’s petition failed.
Sky entered state care after her mother died.
Luther planned to appeal.
He died before the hearing.
Gregory read the order twice.
Then walked outside alone.
Jimmy found him beside the dumpster.
“You good?”
“No.”
Jimmy leaned against the wall.
Gregory stared across the lot.
“We knew he was dealing with something.”
“What?”
“He kept missing rides.”
“Yeah.”
“I thought it was a woman.”
Jimmy almost smiled.
Gregory did not.
“He was trying to get his little sister.”
Jimmy’s expression fell.
“He never told us.”
“He probably thought telling us would make the report worse.”
That hurt.
The club had been Luther’s family.
It had also become evidence against him.
Jimmy rubbed his beard.
“What do we do with that?”
Gregory looked through the garage door toward Sky’s unfinished raven tank.
“We stop making it about us.”
The sentence shaped everything that followed.
Martha Clark met Sky at a diner the next morning.
Not the club.
Not her office.
Neutral ground.
Sky chose a booth facing the entrance.
Martha noticed but did not comment.
She ordered coffee.
Sky ordered orange juice and toast.
Martha placed no paperwork on the table until food arrived.
Then:
“Sky, I represent adults who want to help you.”
“That means you don’t represent me.”
Martha raised her eyebrows.
“Correct.”
Sky looked surprised.
“Most adults pretend.”
“I’m too old.”
“Can I get my own lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Martha leaned forward.
“In child-welfare proceedings, you may be appointed counsel or a guardian ad litem depending on what’s happening in your case and local procedure. I am not going to tell you I speak for you when I don’t.”
Sky studied her.
“Then what do you want?”
“To understand what options exist.”
“I want to stay with them.”
“Which them?”
“The club.”
Martha shook her head.
“A motorcycle club cannot be your legal guardian.”
Sky’s face tightened.
“I knew it.”
“That doesn’t mean no.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means we identify a person.”
Sky thought.
“Gregory.”
“Maybe.”
“He’s old.”
“So am I.”
“Not that old.”
Martha smiled.
“Flattery won’t influence the court.”
Sky almost smiled too.
Martha continued.
“Gregory needs a suitable home.”
“He has one.”
“Bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“Safe storage for firearms if he owns any?”