Martha turned. A woman stood near the interior office door, half hidden by a stack of boxes. A county employee badge hung on a lanyard, her hair was pulled back in a tired knot, and her cheeks were smudged with stress.
Martha recognized her instantly. Evelyn Crane. The woman who used to bring potato salad to church picnics. The woman who'd hugged Martha at her husband's funeral and whispered, "If you need anything, you call."
Evelyn's eyes were wide, not with surprise, but with fear. "Can you come with me?" she asked softly.
Pell's gaze snapped to Evelyn. "Ma'am, she's being helped right here."
Evelyn didn't look at him. She kept her eyes on Martha. "Please."
Martha followed Evelyn through the doorway into a narrow hallway that smelled like old carpet and burnt coffee. The noise from the lobby dulled behind them.
Evelyn walked fast, then stopped by a copy machine and turned her back to the door like she was blocking a draft. "They're watching you," Evelyn whispered.
Martha's voice went flat. "I noticed."
Evelyn's hands shook as she fussed with a stack of files she wasn't actually reading. "Marty, you can't say things out there, not like that."
Martha leaned closer. "My insurance isn't lapsed."
Evelyn swallowed hard. "I don't know what it was yesterday. I know what it shows today."
"That doesn't happen by accident," Martha said.
Evelyn's eyes flicked to the ceiling like there might be ears in the tiles. "The servers went down during the storm. There was a manual intake process. A lot of things got re-entered."
Martha felt her stomach tighten. "Re-entered by who?"
Evelyn didn't answer directly. "Halverson's been in and out of the building all day. So is Pell. They're calling it coordination."
Martha's voice dropped. "They want my land."
Evelyn's face tightened, and that was all the confirmation Martha needed.
"My husband told me," Martha said, barely audible. "He said someday they'd come with papers and smiles and tell me it was for my own good."
Evelyn's eyes shone with something that looked like shame. "Marty, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but your name is flagged."
"Flagged for what?" Martha hissed.
Evelyn's mouth worked like she was tasting the words and hating them. "For safety concerns, for outside influence. That means if you make noise, they can justify stepping in. They can say you're not thinking clearly. They can..."
She stopped herself, breathing hard. "You need proof, receipts, bank statements, anything that shows you paid."
Martha nodded once. "I have them at home in a tin box."
"Good," Evelyn whispered. "Get copies, not originals, and don't bring them here."
Martha held Evelyn's gaze. "You're scared."
Evelyn's laugh was tight and broken. "My husband works for the road department. Halverson already told him if he doesn't cooperate, he'll lose overtime. We've got two kids, Marty."
Martha's anger sharpened into something colder. "So this is how they do it."
Evelyn's eyes flicked toward the hallway door. "Go. And Marty, don't go home alone after dark."