Page 12 of The Smart Killer (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #4)

Ray touched the screen and slid it back a few more times. “And again. And again. And again. Have you ever seen someone in the middle of a divorce, visiting their ex three times a week and staying overnight?”

“You think she was…”

“Yep. Riding two horses. Giddy up. But if that doesn’t pique your interest. Look at his truck.

” Ray widened it with his fingers to give him a closer look at the graphic on the side of the door.

The logo was hard to see from a distance, but close up, Noah could just make out HARDING FIRE PROTECTION SYSTEMS.

“They inspect, test, and maintain fire services.”

“But no strangers were seen entering the community.”

“Yes, that wasn’t allowed in. Multiple services have left Adam’s home over the past few months, including Harding’s.” He took out a scrap of paper with Kyle Branson’s address.

Ten minutes later, they were on their way to North Elba, a small town in Adirondack County, seven miles south of High Peaks. Porter piped up as the Bronco wound its way through the dense forest of the High Peaks Wilderness.

“What was the deal with that reporter back there?” Porter asked.

“None of your business.”

“You were married?”

“Was.”

“You mind me asking how she died?”

“I do.”

Noah never took his eyes off the road ahead.

“All right. I can respect that.” Porter took out his wallet. “I have a wife of my own and daughter.” He passed Noah a photo of a young redhead sitting on a swing and holding a toddler. “That’s Cary-Anne and our little one, Kelsey. She just turned three.”

“How long have you been married?” Noah asked, passing the photo back.

“Almost four years.”

“Good for you. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Huh?”

Noah glanced at him. “Things change. You’ll change.”

“No. Not us. We’re in for the long haul.”

“Everyone is, Porter until you come home to an empty house and a note saying you’ll hear from her lawyer.”

Porter scoffed. “Won’t happen.”

“Ah, okay, forever the optimist.”

“The what?”

“The optimist sees the glass half full; the pessimist sees it half empty, and the...”

“Realist sees both. Yeah, I heard that one.”

There was a short pause.

“Actually, I was going to say the realist sees only the glass.”

Porter frowned. “Only the glass?” he paused. “Oh, I get it. He ducks when she throws it at him.”

“No, he never got married as he was too busy working.”

Porter snorted. “Sutherland, you are something else.”

Noah gave the Bronco some gas, and they continued toward a farmhouse nestled in the forest at the end of a long driveway.

When they arrived, Noah noticed a black company truck outside, the one he’d seen in the video.

He parked behind it and exited, stopping only to see the contents inside.

It was full of fire extinguishers, parts, and tools.

The farmhouse stood nestled among a dense thicket of towering pines and maple trees, their branches interwoven to create a natural canopy that filtered the sunlight into dappled patterns on the ground below.

The house was weathered, its wooden exterior displaying the passage of time. Paint, once vibrant, was now faded, and the porch creaked underfoot as Noah and Porter ascended the steps.

As they reached the front door, the wind rustled the leaves of nearby oak trees, casting fleeting shadows on the porch. A wind chime jangled. Noah raised a gloved hand and knocked firmly.

There was no response, just an eerie silence.

Deciding to explore further, they walked around the house, following a gravel path.

There, they discovered a man hunched over a lawnmower, his hands stained with grease and grass clippings.

He had headphones on. Music seeped out. He wore worn-out jeans and a faded plaid shirt, both showing signs of hard use.

His once-brown hair was streaked with some grey.

When he spotted them from the corner of his eye, he wiped his hands on a rag and removed his headphones.

“Kyle Branson?”

His gaze was guarded, assessing them. “Who’s asking?” His voice was gruff, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Noah reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge, holding it up for him to see. “State Police. Bureau of Criminal Investigation,” he stated firmly. “We had some questions about Hannah Thorne.”

“Is there a problem?”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

He shrugged. “Six, maybe eight days ago. We were hashing out some of the finer details of our divorce. Is she okay?”

“I’m afraid not. A home she was in caught fire.”

He squinted. “She’s dead?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

Porter chimed in. “Where were you two nights ago?”

Noah glanced at Porter. It was an innocent enough question. Something he wouldn’t have objected to having him ask, except he wasn’t there to ask questions. Just to observe and learn. Noah let it slide.

“At my cabin over by Lake Colden.”

“You go alone?” Noah asked.

“I did.”

“How long did you stay there?”

“I went for three days. Overdue vacation.”

Noah nodded. “You used the company truck?”

“Saves me paying for gas. Yeah.”

Noah stepped a little closer. He took some information he’d obtained out of his pocket and handed it to him. Kyle looked at it. “You work for a fire system company that serviced Adam Johnson’s home.”

“And?”

Noah pointed at him. “What can you tell us?”

“Not much to say. We service businesses and residences. That neighborhood’s entire system is under contract. We go in monthly to ensure everything is in good working order.”

“And was it?” Noah asked.

Kyle handed the sheet back. “Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t have signed off on it. And before you ask if I sabotaged the fire system. No. Hannah and I may have had differences, but I wouldn’t lose my job over her.”

Noah shifted gears. “What can you tell me about the system in that place?”

“It’s all high-end compared to regular fire alarms.”

“In what way?” Noah asked.

“You’ve been through enough residences as a detective. How many have you come across that have sprinkler systems in every room of the house? Or a monitoring system that can alert the fire department before the family?”

“So, if there was no technical fault, you would say it’s doubtful a fire could get out of control in those homes?”

He exhaled. “Fire is unpredictable, humans even more so. Anything is possible. Based on what I’ve serviced in those places, unless someone switched off the sensors, it’s very unlikely. Owners have an above average chance of survival compared to a regular residential home.”

“And these sensors could be turned off through the smart system?”

Kyle nodded.

Noah glanced away then looked back at him. “The times you saw Hannah. Was it with a lawyer?”

“No way. Costs a fortune. Neither of us could afford that.”

“So, where did you meet? At a coffee shop?”

Kyle glanced at them both. “I thought you were here about the fire, not my divorce.”

“Just questions.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a busy man. Unless you are going to arrest me, you can speak to my lawyer.”

“I thought you said you can’t afford one,” Noah muttered.

“Good day, officers,” Kyle said, returning to the lawnmower, setting the headphones on his head and starting the engine. It growled loudly, drowning out any attempts to have any further conversation.

“You believe him?” Porter asked on the way back to the Bronco.

Before Noah had a chance to respond, his phone jangled. The caller ID was Ray. He tapped accept and answered. “Go ahead.”

“Another family is dead.”