Then somebody in the comments found county property records.
By breakfast, the caption had changed.
HOA SOLD 1,800 TICKETS TO A CORN MAZE ON LAND THEY DIDN’T OWN.
That version traveled faster.
At 8:10, a local television van parked on the shoulder.
I didn’t speak to them.
Rachel had given me one instruction.
Say less.
So I did.
At 8:40, Linda Price arrived.
No makeup.
Hair pulled into a loose ponytail.
Same woman who had stood beside Trish the day before, but she looked ten years older.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Rachel’s coming.”
“Not with Rachel.”
“Then we’re not talking.”
She glanced toward the road.
“Please.”
I studied her.
She looked genuinely scared.
“About what?”
“The document.”
That got my attention.
“What about it?”
“I found it.”
“When?”
“Last winter.”
“Where?”
“In old association records.”
“Original?”
“No. Scan.”
“Who gave it to Trish?”
Linda hesitated.
“Linda.”
“She already had a copy.”
