"If the same man was involved in the relief fund and Sam's financial problems, that matters."
"It may matter," Wells agreed. "But we need evidence rather than assumptions."
She looked at Samuel.
"Have you made every payment required under the current agreement?"
Samuel shook his head.
"No. I fell behind after my health deteriorated."
"Do you have copies of your payment records?"
"Some."
"Bring them to me. Don't sign anything else from the creditor until I've reviewed it. And if they contact you, ask them to communicate through my office."
Samuel looked stunned.
"You'll represent me?"
"If you agree to the arrangement and we establish the scope of the work, yes. We'll also discuss what assistance may be available if you cannot afford the full legal fees."
Hawk started to speak.
Wells raised a hand.
"I know what you're about to offer. The brotherhood can help with the house repairs, but I want the financial issues handled properly. We aren't going to solve one problem by creating another."
Hawk smiled faintly.
"Fair enough."
The meeting lasted another hour.
When they finally stepped outside, Samuel looked as though he had aged and recovered ten years in the same afternoon.
He had spent months believing that the house was already lost.
Now, for the first time, someone had told him that the outcome was not certain.
It was not a guarantee.
But it was a chance.
Ethan walked beside him toward Hawk's motorcycle.
"Does that mean we can stay?"
Samuel looked down.
"I don't know yet."
Ethan's face fell slightly.
"But we have a chance?"
Samuel nodded.
"Yes. We have a chance."
Ethan thought about that.
Then he smiled.
It was a small smile, cautious and uncertain, but it was the first one Samuel had seen in days.
They returned to Willow Street in the afternoon.
Frank had repaired the fence. Caleb had replaced the damaged windowpane, and Marcus had cleaned the furnace and checked the heating system.
A few of the younger riders had gone to the grocery store again, bringing vegetables, bread, milk, and enough food to fill the refrigerator.
Ethan found a new package of socks on the kitchen chair.
Beside it was a small envelope containing a gift card for the local clothing store.
He looked at Hawk.
"I can't take all this."
Hawk removed his helmet.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't have anything to give you."
Hawk crouched in front of him.
"Do you know what your father gave us?"
Ethan shook his head.
"He gave us a reason to be better men than we were yesterday."
Hawk smiled.
"That's not something we can put a price on."
Ethan looked at the socks.
Then he looked at the gift card.
"Can I do something for you?"
Hawk considered the question.
"Actually, yes."
Ethan straightened.
"What?"
"Your grandfather tells me you know how to make those little paper animals."
Ethan blinked.
"Who told you that?"
"Your grandfather."
Samuel stood in the doorway, looking embarrassed.
Hawk continued.
"We have a clubhouse full of men who could use a little reminder that the world isn't always as serious as we make it. Think you could teach us?"
Ethan smiled.
"I can teach you how to make a paper crane."
Hawk nodded solemnly.
"Excellent. But if it turns out badly, I'm blaming the teacher."
For the first time in a very long time, Samuel laughed without feeling guilty afterward.
That evening, the clubhouse filled with the sounds of folding paper, frustrated complaints, and laughter.
Ethan stood at the front of a long table, showing a dozen grown men how to fold the corners of a square sheet.
Frank's crane looked like a wounded bird.
Caleb's resembled a small hat.
Marcus produced something that looked almost perfect, then accidentally crushed it when he reached for his coffee.
Ethan laughed so hard that he had to sit down.
Hawk watched him from the end of the table.
For years, the clubhouse had been a place where men came to escape their problems.
Now, as the boy laughed among them, Hawk realized that Daniel's dream had never been about creating a refuge from the world.
It had been about creating a place where people could return to the world with enough strength to face it.
And Ethan, without knowing it, had begun doing exactly what his father had once done.
He was bringing people together.
The investigation continued over the following weeks.
Patricia Wells hired a forensic accountant named Leonard Shaw, who began examining the old bank records and comparing them with the documents recovered from the storage facility.
The work was slow.
Some records were missing.
Others had been damaged by moisture.
Several account numbers no longer existed in the banking system, and the institutions that had maintained them had merged or closed.
But the evidence began to form a pattern.
The forty-two-thousand-dollar transfer had been authorized during the week of the warehouse fire. However, the bank records showed that the funds had not remained in Samuel's account.
Within days, a series of transactions moved the money through several accounts associated with businesses connected to Richard Cole.