Despite the warnings, thirty people gathered at the east gate before sunrise. Some carried signs. Others brought coffee. Two parents arrived with children in pajamas, expecting a dramatic confrontation with machinery.
Doreen was there before them, wearing a reflective vest over her raincoat. Mara stood beside Gordon at the closed mill gate. Jessa and Lenora moved through the crowd explaining the suspension.
At six fifteen, Owen’s black utility vehicle appeared at the far end of the street. It slowed when he saw the people, then pulled to the curb. He climbed out with a face like stone.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
“Someone told them you were moving the machine,” Mara said.
“We’re not.”
“Then tell them.”
Owen looked at the crowd and raised his voice. “There is no movement scheduled this morning. Please clear the entrance.”
A man shouted, “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”
“Because the equipment is locked out,” Gordon answered before Owen could speak. He held up a ring of tagged keys. “I have the keys. The reviewer has the authorization. Nobody’s moving anything.”
The crowd began to loosen, but a woman near the front held up her phone. “Then why did this account tell us to come?”
Jessa looked over her shoulder. The woman was standing beside a man in a navy cap whom Doreen recognized as a former volunteer named Hal Mercer. Hal had helped build the original riddle stations years earlier. He had been absent from recent meetings, claiming to be too busy with work.
Doreen approached him. “Hal, did you see the post?”
He avoided her eyes. “Everybody saw it.”
“Who told you about the move?”
“Does it matter?”
“It mattered when children were sent into the lane.”
Hal’s jaw worked. “Maybe people wouldn’t have believed the account if you’d listened to them sooner.”
Doreen felt the sting. “Maybe. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
Before he could reply, a teenager pushed through the crowd with a phone held high. “The account is live,” he said. “It’s streaming from somewhere here.”
The screen showed the east gate, the gathered neighbors, and Doreen standing beside Hal. The video angle was slightly elevated, looking down from the second-floor window of an empty storefront across the street.
Jessa looked up. “That’s the old print shop.”
The storefront had been vacant for months. Its upstairs windows were dark.
Mara said, “Don’t rush it. Call the property manager.”
But Hal had already turned and begun walking away.
15. THE PRINT SHOP
The print shop belonged to a retired couple who lived in another state. Its ground floor was empty, but the upstairs office had been rented temporarily to a local advertising contractor who used it for storage. Jessa found the property manager’s number on a faded sign and called. The manager arrived twenty minutes later with a key and a bewildered expression.
