The next blow came through people Jack had known for years. Paul Mercer, the veteran whose motorcycle Jack had repaired free of charge, called to cancel his spring service appointment. Paul sounded miserable, and when Jack asked why, he admitted that a stranger had visited his home. The man knew which school Paul's granddaughter attended and suggested that families were safer when they didn't get tangled up in land disputes. Paul had no idea whether the threat was real, but he couldn't ignore it.
Jack kept his voice steady. “You don't owe me a service appointment. Take care of your family.”
After hanging up, he sat on the stool beside the phone for several minutes. Ethan waited before asking whether Paul would agree to give a statement. Jack doubted it. Ethan requested permission to call him anyway, and when Paul reluctantly agreed to speak, Ethan explained that a factual account might protect other families from the same treatment. Paul took a breath and said he'd put what happened in writing if they did not publish his granddaughter's information.
Within a week, two more customers admitted that someone had contacted them. One was a farmer who'd been told his equipment lease might become difficult to renew; the other was Mr. Hollis, whose feed store stood on land Caldwell wanted for an expanded parking area. Hollis said the developer's people had shown up with a map that made his property appear to sit inside a disputed easement. The threat wasn't simply that Caldwell would buy the land. It was that he could make keeping it too expensive.
Hollis spread the map across Jack's workbench. “That line's wrong. My father had the boundary surveyed thirty years ago.”
“Have you got the survey?” Ethan asked.
“Somewhere in the office.”
“Find it. Make a copy. Don't give them the original.”
Hollis looked at the boy. “You sound like a lawyer.”
“No, sir. I sound like somebody who's had people deny things they said to his face.”
The older man studied him for a moment. Then he folded the map carefully and promised to look for the records. Two days later he returned with the survey, photocopies of Caldwell correspondence, and an unsigned notice suggesting the county was preparing to condemn part of his property. Ethan organized the pages by date. The apparent condemnation notice lacked a case number and listed an office that couldn't be found in the county directory.
“That's strange,” Jack said.
“Strange enough to ask someone official about it,” Ethan replied.
At Nora Bell's suggestion, they consulted a legal aid attorney named Miriam Cole, who volunteered several hours at the library each month. She had a calm manner and a habit of listening through an entire answer without interrupting. Miriam confirmed that landowners could challenge questionable notices and recommended preserving the original correspondence. She also warned them against publishing personal information or making accusations stronger than the evidence supported. It was the first time someone outside the garage had treated Ethan's folder not as a child's worry but as a potentially useful collection of facts.