Labeled the date.
Time.
Location.
Photographed the puddle from four angles.
Saved the Ring footage.
Then put the bag in an empty cooler in the rear corner of the garage.
I still did not confront Hadley.
A week later, she began parking her Mercedes along the foot of my driveway.
Not enough to block me legally.
Enough to make backing out inconvenient.
Enough to send a message.
Tuesday at seven.
Thursday at eight.
The following Tuesday.
I finally encountered her while she stood beside the car talking to someone across the street.
“Hadley.”
She turned.
“Morning, Sterling.”
“Could you leave a little more room near the driveway?”
She smiled.
“Oh, I’m visiting Denise.”
“I understand.”
“You’re not blocked.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“I checked.”
“I’m sure you did.”
Her smile widened.
“Have a beautiful day.”
“You too.”
The next violation was not a fine.
It was an inspection notice.
NOTICE OF HOA GARAGE INSPECTION PURSUANT TO COMMUNITY SECTION 8.4(B).
FRIDAY, 11:00 A.M.
COMMUNITY STANDARDS COMMITTEE.
I pulled the covenants.
Read Section 8.4(B).
Then read it again.
It allowed exterior review of conditions visible from common areas and required homeowner cooperation with lawful compliance procedures.
It did not create an unlimited right of entry into a private garage.
At eleven Friday morning, three men walked up my driveway wearing matching navy polo shirts.
One carried a clipboard.
One carried a camera.
One carried nothing.
I already knew who they were.
Vance Lockwood, Whit’s brother-in-law.
Reno Tarver.
Dixon Boudry.
“Mr. Halloran?” the clipboard man asked.
“Yes.”
“We’re with the Briarwood Glen Community Standards Committee.”
“Good morning.”
“We’re here for your scheduled garage inspection.”
“Before we begin, are any of you licensed state inspectors?”
The three men looked at one another.
Vance said, “We’re HOA representatives.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“We have authorization.”
“Do you have a court order?”
Vance’s mouth tightened.
“The bylaws provide—”
“The bylaws do not permit forced entry into a private garage.”
“We’re not forcing anything.”
“Good. Then we agree.”
I lifted my coffee.
“I decline consent.”
Vance stared at me.
“Mr. Halloran, failure to cooperate could result in additional penalties.”
“Send them in writing.”
“We need access.”
“No.”
The man with the camera shifted awkwardly.
Vance tried once more.
“You really want to make this difficult?”
“No.”
I smiled.
“I want to make it documented.”
Then I closed the garage.
Inside the house, I set down my coffee.
That afternoon, I called my deputy chief.
I did not ask him to investigate the HOA.
I asked for something narrower.
Three names.