Adopted Son Talks to "Headless Man" at 3 AM — Morning After, My Face Is Cut From Every Photo in the House
👉 Previous Decision: You chose to form a temporary tactical alliance with Maya Lin to share intelligence.
The roar of a Delaware County Sheriff’s cruiser echoed down my driveway. I watched from the living room window as Sheriff Halloway stepped out, his hand resting on his sidearm. I noted the retention strap was unbuckled, a subtle detail screaming “operational readiness” for what should have been a simple delivery.
Maya Lin, hidden in her sedan a quarter-mile down the road, confirmed via secure comms that she was rolling her dash cam.
Halloway strode to my door. “Mr. Finch. I have a formal order here.” He presented a laminated document. “Your concealed carry permit has been revoked, effective immediately. State registry flagged for domestic safety concerns. Altered home security footage, apparently.”
My jaw tightened. Altered footage. They were fabricating evidence, leveraging local law enforcement to disarm me. This wasn’t just about the trust anymore; it was about systematically stripping my ability to defend myself.
“I understand, Sheriff,” I said, my voice calm, refusing to give him any reason for physical escalation. I signed the receipt, my eyes meeting his. He held my gaze for a beat too long, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
“Good day, Mr. Finch.” Halloway turned, a satisfied half-smirk on his face, and walked back to his cruiser.
Once the patrol car disappeared down the road, I moved. My primary asset vault, a heavy, fire-rated safe containing critical documents and contingency funds, needed to be off-site. I knew a disused logging shed deep in the state park, accessible only by foot through overgrown trails. It was a risk, but leaving it here was a greater one. This was a war of attrition, and they were already hitting my supply lines.
➡️ Read Chapter 8 to continue the story
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