I locked the cabin door and grabbed my keys. Time to head down to the sheriff's office before any new nonsense erupted.
The drive to town was peaceful, at least visually. The mountains rolled like giant waves, frozen and green. The kind of scenery that usually calms the mind. But my mind wasn't calm. It was ticking, organized, focused, methodical. I replayed Karen's tantrum: the lies, the cord, her home setup, all of it forming a pattern of entitlement, desperation, and a reckless belief that rules didn't apply to her.
When I pulled into the sheriff's substation lot, Detective Harris was already standing outside, leaning against the doorframe—tall, broad shoulders, gray in his beard, the look of a man who preferred facts over drama.
Good. I had facts.
"Mr. Dalton?" he asked.
"That's me."
He led me inside to a small room—not an interrogation room, nothing dramatic, just a desk, two chairs, and a coffee maker that looked older than I was. He motioned for me to sit. "Let's start from the beginning," he said.
I walked him through everything, handing over the folder with photos, meter logs, timestamps, and the new evidence: the broken adapter piece I'd found on the trail.
He inspected it closely. "That's a melted ground adapter. Looks like someone's been overloading some circuits."
"Wouldn't surprise me," I said. "She's running a space heater, AC, fridge, microwave, all through extension cords—and not just mine."
He looked up sharply. "Explain."
So, I told him about the blue cord that led uphill. Detective Harris sat back, tapping the table thoughtfully. "We've had complaints the past few months," he admitted. "Flickering lights, breaker trips, odd meter spikes. We chalked it up to old wiring and storms." He narrowed his eyes. "But if what you're saying is right, she's been leeching off multiple cabins."
I finished. He exhaled slowly. "This is worse than I thought."
I expected him to be shocked. Instead, he looked tired, like a man who had seen variations of the same problem for years, but was always one witness short of stopping it.
"Karen has a history," he said quietly. "Petty disputes, noise complaints, some civil issues, nothing criminal until now."