“The township magistrate recognized the emergency administrative order at eight o’clock this morning, David,” Arthur said, his voice carefully even.

Harry Caldwell stood next to the chalkboard at the front of the community center room, turning his heavy gold signet ring around and around his pinky.

“It’s a routine temporary boundary restriction,” Harry said, his loud, booming voice filling the small room.

“Filed fully in line with the county land office plat maps.”

I took the top page out of the folder and looked at the blue ink filing stamp along the bottom margin.

“This survey map’s been altered, Arthur,” I said.