His voice boomed from the security camera’s two-way speaker on the cabin porch, echoing through the trees.
"Susan. You are on camera. The police have already been dispatched. I highly suggest you smile for the recording."
Susan shrieked, jumping back from the door as if it had burned her. She looked wildly around, finally spotting the camera under the eaves. The shady locksmith didn't wait; he grabbed his bag and sprinted into the woods, leaving Susan completely alone.
By the time Liam arrived back at his cabin an hour later, the flashing lights of a police cruiser were already lighting up his driveway. It was the same deputy from before.
Susan was sitting in the back of the cruiser, her face red and puffy from crying, her oversized sunglasses nowhere to be seen.
The deputy handed Liam a clipboard—Susan’s clipboard. "We caught her trying to pry a window open with a garden trowel after the locksmith ran off," the deputy said, shaking his head. "We’ve got her on charges for attempted breaking and entering, trespassing, and property damage. Your camera footage is the nail in the coffin."