Page 21 of The Smart Killer (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #4)

“ S tay with me. Stay with me, kid,” an older man said, administering CPR.

In the heart of the Adirondacks, beneath a sky splashed with stars, an eerie silence settled over High Peaks.

The streetlights cast long shadows across the deserted road, interrupted only by the flickering blue and red glow of an ambulance approaching.

The wail of its siren grew louder as the ambulance bounced up the curb and swerved into the parking lot outside Downhill Apartments. It screeched to a halt near a dumpster.

Ryan, a seasoned EMT with a calm demeanor, and his partner Olivia, a compassionate woman, leaped out. Their eyes widened as they spotted a motionless figure sprawled near the dumpster, bathed in the harsh glare of the headlights, with a man giving CPR.

“What have we got?”

“I took over from a mother. She’s in the house on the phone calling the cops.”

Nearby, a young girl watched from a small Honda sedan. “I’ve been doing CPR. He has a pulse,” the older man continued.

“Have we got a name?” Ryan asked, his gaze never leaving the teen.

The man shook his head, his hands trembling. “I don’t know. I was returning from picking up my kid from a dance class when my headlights shone over him and a woman near the dumpster. I used to be in the reserves. I think it’s alcohol, possibly drugs.”

“All right, just step to one side.”

Ryan updated dispatch to alert the medical center for the arrival of the teen as Olivia began working on him. Olivia’s hands were already gloved and ready for action. The kid didn’t look good; he was lying on the ground, his skin pallid and pupils constricted.

“Check his airway and breathing,” Ryan instructed, his voice steady. Olivia quickly tilted the teen’s head back, ensuring his airway was clear, while Ryan placed his finger on the neck, feeling for a pulse.

“Shallow breathing, weak pulse,” Ryan said, his brow furrowing. “Possible opioid overdose. Let’s administer Naloxone, stat.”

Olivia swiftly prepared the naloxone nasal spray, then expertly delivered a dose into the teen’s nostrils. They monitored his vital signs, their trained eyes flicking between the pulse oximeter, blood pressure cuff, and cardiac monitor.

“He’s responding,” Olivia said, relief evident in her voice as the teen’s breathing gradually steadied, color returning to his cheeks.

“Good. Let’s get an IV line in,” Ryan said, pulling out the necessary supplies from their medical kit. With practiced precision, he expertly inserted the IV catheter into the arm and secured it in place. Olivia connected the IV tubing, allowing fluids and medications to flow into his veins.

A frantic woman approached them just as they finished securing the IV line. Her eyes were wide with fear, her voice trembling. “Ma’am, stay back.”

“I was the one that found him.”

“Was there anyone with him?”

“No.” The woman shook her head, her hands trembling. “I saw some car pull away quickly, but it was too dark. I think they dropped him here.”

“They?”

“Whoever was in that vehicle.”

Ryan nodded, his focus on the task at hand.

“You did the right thing calling for help. We’ll take it from here.

” Olivia smiled reassuringly at the woman, silently acknowledging her bravery in reporting the emergency.

Just as they were preparing to move the teen into the ambulance, a police cruiser pulled up.

Ryan recognized the officer.

“I heard over the wire. Who found him?”

“The woman over there. She’ll fill you in,” Ryan said.

As they passed by Ray, he reached out. “Ethan?” His voice caught in his throat as he recognized the victim.

“You know him?” Olivia asked, her eyes filled with empathy as she noticed the concern on his face.

“He’s my brother’s kid,” Ray replied, reaching out to grasp Ethan’s cold fingers. “I need to call my brother.”

“We’ll take care of Ethan. You go ahead and make that call,” Ryan said, confidence in his voice.

With gentle yet swift movement, they carefully wheeled him into the ambulance.

Inside the ambulance, Ryan and Olivia continued to monitor Ethan closely.

As the wheels rolled out, Ryan administered another dose of Naloxone to ensure he remained responsive.

Olivia adjusted the IV flow rate, her eyes never leaving the monitors displaying his vital signs.

Ray squeezed the bridge of his nose as he made the call. In the distance, the siren wailed, piercing the stillness of the night as the ambulance raced toward Adirondack Medical Center in Saranac Lake.

“You’re not going to arrest me?” Alejandro said as Noah opened the back door of his Bronco and told him he was free to go. He saw the curtains pinched in the window as Alejandro’s mother looked out.

“I know where you are.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“I appreciate what you told me.”

As he turned to leave, Alejandro glanced back. “I’m sorry about running. I really didn’t know. I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

Noah nodded, watching Alejandro’s mother open the door and let him in. Noah slipped back behind the steering wheel, put his vehicle in reverse, and began backing out.

“I don’t get it,” Porter said.

“What don’t you get?”

“He ran. If ever there was a reason to bring someone in, it’s now, especially in light of his past. And yet, instead, you give him a three-course meal, a pat on the back, and sent him on his way.”

“He’s not our guy.”

“How do you know that?”

Noah had made it only a short distance out of Elizabethtown before his phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn’t answer or look at it. “I just do.”

“How? There’s a motive, opportunity, and the means. They did it him wrong, he’s out, and he knows how to do this.”

“That’s why it’s not him.”

Porter sighed. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Porter, I don’t know how to explain it. You get a sense of this kind of stuff. Like the way a guitarist can play without looking at the fret. You become accustomed to the feel; you become attuned to the sound.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit.”

Noah looked over at him and then slammed the brakes on, causing Porter to lurch forward in his seat. Noah turned toward him, about to lay out his reasoning, when his phone rang again. This time, he answered.

Frustration boiled over in his response. “Yes!?”

“Noah. It’s Ethan.”

The rest of what Ray said became white noise; he slammed his foot on the accelerator and tore away, heading toward Saranac Lake.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh, sterile glow on the bustling chaos of the Adirondack Medical Center.

Noah’s heart pounded like a drumbeat of dread as he stormed through the automatic doors, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridors.

The urgency of his brother’s call echoed in his mind, propelling him forward and pushing him deeper into the heart of the hospital.

Nurses rushed past, their faces drawn with worry, and doctors barked orders into phones, their voices tense and urgent.

The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant, mingling with the underlying aroma of fear and anxiety that permeated the atmosphere.

Noah’s hand trembled as he approached the reception desk.

“I’m looking for my son, Ethan Sutherland,” he said, his voice steady but full of fear. “I got a call that he’s been brought in.”

The nurse behind the desk got up, checked her computer, and then told him to wait. She returned less than two minutes later. “He’s stable, but he’s not awake yet. We’re keeping a close watch on him. You can wait over there.”

A lump formed in Noah’s throat, his breath catching as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. He nodded, feeling his legs give way beneath him. He sank into a nearby chair, his hands clutching the edge of the seat, knuckles turning white.

Porter hovered nearby, awkward, unsure of what to do, but his eyes were full of concern. “Can I get you a coffee, Noah?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Noah managed to nod, grateful. As he hurried away, Noah let his gaze wander, trying to make sense of the surreal nightmare unfolding.

The waiting room was a maelstrom of emotions.

Families huddled together, their faces etched with tiredness.

Doctors and nurses moved purposefully, their eyes focused on clipboards or patients, their hands steady.

The distant hum of machines and the occasional beep of monitors created a dissonant symphony.

Noah’s mind raced, and images of Ethan flashed before his eyes — his laughter, his smiles, the warmth of his hug.

Guilt clawed at him, gnawing at his insides.

If only he had been there for his son, if only he had noticed the signs sooner or asked him about that day he saw him at…

Noah’s mind turned to the day before. He took out his phone and called Ray.

After updating him on the situation for a few seconds, he shifted gears.

“Where was he found?”

“Downhill Apartments. Beside the dumpster. A woman who lives there says she saw a car pull away but couldn’t identify it. She also can’t be sure they had anything to do with it.”

He went quiet.

“What is it, Noah?”

It was then he updated his brother on the raid and what Jason had told them about Big G’s, Zeke, and how he saw Ethan coming out of the house behind the bowling alley. “You think he’s running an operation over there?”

“Maybe, I don’t know right now, Ray. But I wouldn’t be surprised if doctors find morphine in Ethan’s system.”

“I’m going over there.”

“Ray, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like I would do that?”

“I’m serious. We have to follow this up the chain. Luke thought he had nipped it in the bud. I thought it was out of town, but obviously, it’s just gone underground. We have to find out where.”

“And you think Luther or the casino has some involvement in all of this.”

“Call it a gut instinct.”

“All right. But there are always ways to get answers, right, brother? Keep me in the loop.”

“Ray.”

“Yeah?”

“Keep this between you and me.”

“Ethan?”

“Yes. Until I know more. If anyone asks, Ethan is with me.”

“All right.” With that, he hung up. Noah gripped the phone tightly. He now regretted telling Ray anything. Out of all of them, Ray was more than likely to go off the rails. His rough-handled approach had landed him in his own fair share of hot water.

“Mr. Sutherland?”

“Yes,” he said, rising from his seat.

“You can see your son now.”

Across town, Ray sat in his cruiser. The lights were off. His headlights out. Cloaked in the shadows of night, he watched teens come and go from the bowling alley; some slipped around the back, and others fissured off through the trees.

He gripped the steering wheel tight with one hand, his knuckles turning white, anger roiling in his gut. The thought of his nephew being dragged into the pit of the narcotics world only angered him.

With his window cracked ever so slightly, he could hear conversations drifting across the lot.

Nothing that he could discern. Everything inside him wanted to go in, bust a few heads, ask questions, and rattle a few doors, but Noah was right: if liquid morphine was still on the streets, they needed to know where it was coming from, who was delivering it, and where it was being produced.

While shaking down a few of them might garner some answers, he also knew it might raise the alarm and cause whatever manufacturing process they had in place to shut down.

It felt like he was right back where he was three years ago with Luke, sifting through the mire for answers and encountering nothing but shady characters and lies.

Ray resisted the urge, fired up his engine, and slowly rolled away, skirting around the back and taking up position in a spot that gave him a good view of the house and the rear of the bowling alley.

Shutting off the lights, he watched teens stumble in and out of the house, some clearly intoxicated and unable to walk a straight path.

If his father was here now, he would have told him to go in there like a bull in a china shop and take charge. It was the Sutherland way. Keep the town clean. But had that ever really worked? Clearly not.

That’s when an idea came to him.

At first, he mulled it over. It was stepping out of his comfort zone and liable to backfire, but he needed eyes and ears without causing a scene.

He picked up his phone and tapped a number in his contacts. It rang a few times.

“Uncle Ray.”

“Hey, Mia.” He paused for a second, hesitation in his voice. “Has your father been in contact with you?”

“No. I haven’t heard from him since this morning. Why?”

“Ah, it’s nothing. Hey, um, do you remember you asked if you could join me for a ride-along. You up for that tonight?”