Page 33 of Pocket Wife

“That was not a no.”

“No.”

She gives me a look. “You are terrible at comfort.”

“Yes.”

The corner of her mouth twitches, then fades as a woman steps from behind the broken grain lift.

Maev Orlan is small, gray-haired, and sharp-faced, with a cane in one hand and a sealed document tube clutched in the other. Her eyes move first to my Authority insignia, then to Lucy’s mud-stained boots.

“You brought Hartwell,” Maev says.

“She knows the valley,” I reply.

“She knows how to make people brave. That can get them killed.”

Lucy’s expression hardens. “Did you come to warn us or help us?”

“Both, if you listen.”

I activate a recorder, then hold it visible in my palm. “Do you consent to testimony?”

“No.” Maev’s answer comes fast. “Not yet. I speak first. You record later if I decide you deserve it.”

I turn off the device.

Lucy glances at me, surprised.

Maev sees it. “Good. Maybe he can learn.”

“I am here to verify events,” I say. “Not punish a witness.”

“Helix punishes witnesses without your assistance.” Maev taps the document tube against her cane. “Thirty-one years ago, I processed land classification updates from the outer settlements. Flood adjustments. Boundary corrections. Old parcel names translated into regional coordinates. Then came a batch from Solaris Valley.”

Lucy steps forward. “The missing years?”

“Part of them.” Maev’s gaze drops. “The packet included references to a founding covenant. Not the full document. Enough to prove restricted commercial use. I flagged it for senior review.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“The file came back amended.”

Wind scrapes a loose panel against the shed frame.

Maev swallows. “The covenant references were gone. Parcels tied to common land had been reclassified as dormant reserve. Burial hills became undeveloped rise. Shared water channels became utility corridors. I challenged it.”

“And?”

“My supervisor told me the corrections had been authorized above local level. Then a consultant tied to one of the resource trusts visited my office.” Maev’s fingers tighten on the tube. “He knew where my sister lived. Knew the medicine my husband needed imported. Knew enough to make refusal feel expensive.”

Lucy goes still.

My grip remains light when Maev hands me the tube. “You were coerced.”

“I was reminded that obedience cost less than truth.”

“And you altered the files?”