Page 23 of The Smart Killer (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #4)

M orning light seeped through the narrow gaps in the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room in Saranac Lake Medical Center.

Noah was trapped in the clutches of a nightmare, his subconscious haunted by visions of his son Ethan slipping away.

The room seemed to close around him, suffocating him with the weight of his fears.

In the dream, he saw Ethan, frail, disappearing into the shadows. Desperation clawed at Noah’s throat; his cries were drowned out by the darkness. Just as he reached out to save his son, a bone-chilling howl echoed through the nightmare, jerking him awake.

He gasped for air, disoriented and trembling. Before he could fully comprehend the nightmare’s grip on him, a deep, Scottish-accented voice shattered the remnants of his dream. “Aye, I know you’re known for sleeping on the job, but this is takin’ it to the extreme, laddie.”

Noah jolted upright, his heart pounding, his eyes wide. Detective Angus McKenzie, a burly man with a bald head and a ginger goatee, stood before him, his concerned gaze searching Noah’s face. “McKenzie?” Noah croaked, his voice thick with drowsiness.

McKenzie’s hand steadied him, his grip firm yet reassuring. “I know, you don’t have to say it; I’m the angel from your dreams.”

“Actually,” Noah retorted, his sarcasm laced with weariness, “I was thinking you were a demon from my nightmare.”

McKenzie’s grin widened, undeterred. “Do demons bring you hot coffee and a sandwich for breakfast?” He extended a paper cup and a wrapped sandwich toward Noah. The aroma of freshly brewed beans was tantalizing.

Noah’s gratitude shone through his exhaustion as he accepted the offerings.

“Thanks,” he murmured before taking a sip of the brew.

Its warmth seeped into his bones, providing a measure of comfort.

McKenzie shifted from one foot to the next, his gaze directed at the bed where Ethan lay, his expression sobering.

Ethan was still and pale but undeniably alive.

The rhythmic beeping of his heart monitor and the soft hiss of the ventilator punctuated the room, reminding him of his son’s fragile state.

“How is he?” he asked, his voice carrying genuine concern.

“Stable,” Noah replied, his eyes never leaving his son. “How did you know I was here?”

McKenzie shifted his weight, revealing the holster of his service weapon under his arm. “I didn’t. I came in to speak to Addie about the string of murders. Janine at the station told me you were here.”

Noah nodded, his mind racing to catch up with the conversation. “You’ve been assigned?”

McKenzie nodded back, his eyes reflecting the weight of the situation. “Aye. I guess they want more resources on this now that we have three families dead.”

The reality settled heavily on Noah’s shoulders.

The murder investigation, his son’s overdose — it was all too much to bear.

But amid the darkness, there was a glimmer of hope.

“Local PD wants everybody they can on this. The Adirondack County Sheriff’s Office got the call this morning.

Everything else is going to the wayside until this is resolved. ”

Noah glanced around the hospital room, his eyes briefly darting across the sterile surroundings. “Where’s Porter?” he asked, his tone heavy with concern.

“Who?” McKenzie furrowed his brow in confusion.

“My partner,” Noah replied. “I mean, the rookie.”

McKenzie’s eyes widened in realization. “They’ve assigned you a partner?”

“Temporarily,” Noah replied. “I’m meant to show him the ropes before they cut him loose.”

“Shit timing.”

“That’s what I thought,” he added, stretching his arms.

“Oh, I can’t wait to meet him.”

“No,” Noah said, shaking his head and rubbing his weary face. “Go easy on him; he’s fresh off the boat.”

McKenzie laughed heartily. “Just the way I like them.”

Noah headed out, and McKenzie followed. They walked a short distance down the corridor before Noah turned. “What are you doing? You want to hold it?” he asked, pushing the door to a nearby bathroom open.

“Oh, I thought we were heading down to see Addie,” McKenzie shot back.

While Noah was inside, McKenzie took the opportunity to talk through the door. “So, hey, Callie’s not doing too well. I’ve never seen her this low before.”

The toilet flushed, and the sink faucet was turned on, followed by the hum of a hand dryer. When Noah emerged, he was composed. “She just lost her only family member,” he said. “Give it time.”

Together, they descended the stairs into the hospital’s bowels, passing nurses bustling in and out of rooms, their faces etched with a mix of exhaustion and purpose.

A worried family huddled in a corner, their eyes red-rimmed from tears, while a group of doctors conferred earnestly near the nurses’ station, their voices low and urgent.

They entered a corridor at the bottom of the stairs leading down to the sterile medical examiner’s office.

As they moved deeper, the atmosphere grew increasingly clinical, tingling with the antiseptic scent.

Cold fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh, unyielding glow on the white-tiled walls.

Finally, they reached the medical examiner’s office. Dr. Adeline Chambers, aka Addie, stood inside, her face illuminated by the glow of her tablet screen. She greeted them with a nod, her Bluetooth earpiece nestled securely in her ear.

“Detectives,” she said, her tone businesslike yet welcoming.

“Dr. Chambers,” McKenzie replied, his tone respectful. “We’re here for an update on the bodies pulled from the homes. Wondered if you’ve found anything useful.”

Addie nodded, her fingers swiftly tapping on her tablet.

“Right, let me bring you up to speed.” Her eyes scanned the screen as she began recounting the grim details.

“As you’re aware, the first family died from carbon monoxide poisoning,” she explained, her voice steady despite the gravity of her words.

“The second from the fire, and the third from hypothermia due to extreme cold. Preliminary autopsies yielded nothing that would indicate any sense of trauma beyond the way they died. There was no sign of assault.”

McKenzie’s brow creased. “What about those who froze to death?”

“It’s strange but nothing out of the realm of possibility. You mix water with low temperatures, and the heart eventually gives out. The water from the fire sprinklers could have fried the system. No way out. Locked inside. The damn house becomes one big panic room.”

Noah nodded. “And the gas poisoning and fire?” he said.

“Again. Very common. House fires, gas leaks. I wish I could offer you more in the way of answers, but this is standard for these kinds of accidental home deaths.”

“If only it was accidental,” McKenzie added, his voice laced with skepticism.

Addie set the tablet down, her gaze flicking between them. “Have you managed to find a connection?”

Noah sighed, running a hand around his neck to work out the tension from sleeping in a chair.

“Beyond them living in homes built by the same company, not so far. None of the families knew each other; they were in different neighborhoods, so that kind of rules out neighborhood disputes. If there is someone behind this…”

“If?” McKenzie said, cutting him off and scoffing. “Come on, laddie, this whole thing stinks to high heaven of someone with a vendetta.”

“No, look. I get it. It’s strange. It’s downright unusual.

But we have no fingerprints, hair, spit, or semen.

Fibers?” He glanced at Addie. She shook her head.

“See. No trace evidence. There is no image on camera of anyone entering or leaving. What are we expected to believe, that our perp is a damn ghost?” He shook his head.

“Even the angle of someone hacking into the homes and taking control of the security and smart devices only makes sense if there was a reason.”

“We shouldn’t have let him go,” a voice from behind said. Noah turned to see Porter enter the room through the open door. He was holding a folder in his hand. “We had the reason. Sutherland. Hell, we had him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The connection is right here, along with a full print that matches that asshole. See for yourself,” he said, handing over the folder.

“The rookie, I presume?” McKenzie said.

Porter glanced at him as Noah opened the folder and pulled out two pieces of paper in plastic sleeves.

“What is this?” Noah asked.

“That, my friend, is the smoking gun that ties all this together. You remember Callie saying that Johnson received a letter a few days before he died, warning him to leave. While you were occupied last night, I figured I would see if the local PD managed to find that letter. Sure enough, the trash pulled from Johnson’s house contained it.

Crumpled up but still intact,” he said, tapping the letter.

“Now, here’s the interesting part. I then sifted through the trash collected from the next home.

And lo and behold, he sent a letter to them.

Besides both letters being the same warning, only one had a fingerprint. Guess which one.”

“The Johnson house,” Noah said.

“Yep. Our guy got sloppy or thought it would go up in flames with the rest of the house, but Johnson dumped it in the trash outside. Forensics managed to lift a full print. It matches Alejandro Diaz’s from the system. We had him, Noah.”

“And you let him go?” McKenzie asked, puzzled.

Noah glanced at him for a second. “So, send a patrol car over.”

“We did. Two. He’s not home. He’s not at his work. No one can find him.”

Noah turned, storming out of the M.E.’s office. “Does Savannah know?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure she’ll find out soon enough. But hold up, Noah. We already have a BOLO out on him. Where are you going?”

“I think I know where he might have gone.”