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

As he reached the bottom of the ladder and dropped into ankle-deep sewer water, Noah turned on a flashlight, and the beam illuminated the tunnel. The first thing that caught his eye was makeshift tracks that had been installed.

Over the comms, he said, “They’re transporting like the cartel does under the border.”

“Sutherland!” Harris yelled from on high. He glanced up to see a red-cheeked, bulbous-nosed state cop peering down. “Get your ass up here!”

Noah pointed down the tunnel. “He’s getting away.”

“The pursuit is off.”

“Like hell it is, we need to—”

“Not today,” Harris said, cutting him off. “That’s an order.”

“From who, you?”

“From higher up.”

Noah didn’t need to ask who he meant; he knew.

He glanced down the tunnel; hearing the slosh of water as the ninth man escaped. He balled his fist and cursed.

Back at State Police Troop B Headquarters, Noah entered the busy office to be greeted by the tapping of keyboards, phones ringing off the hook, and steady conversation. The atmosphere quickly changed to laughter, cheers, and a few claps from some of his colleagues.

“Great job, Sutherland,” Pete Moss said, followed by a smirk as he passed him.

Terry Braithwaite, a man who had been gunning for his position since day one, flicked a toothpick into a garbage bin. “Hey Sutherland, what does it feel like to blow your shot too early?”

He kept walking. “I don’t know, Terry, let me ask your wife,” he replied in jest.

Making his way to his desk, he eyed Savannah Legacy’s office. She was the last person he wanted or needed to speak to, but it was an unavoidable conversation. He swung into his seat and tapped a key to bring his screen to life.

A younger investigator appeared at his side.

“Oh, she is pissed.”

“Felix, I don’t have time for this right now.” He glanced over his shoulder at her office, waiting for her to call him in and read him the riot act.

Noah brought up a map of the sewer system throughout High Peaks; he hit print, got up, and went over to the printer to get the sheet.

“She wants to speak to you.”

“And she will; I have things to do.”

“I would not recommend that, buddy.”

Noah glanced at the paper sheet and then at an address on his phone.

Felix continued, “You know how long they’ve been working that case. Why on earth would you—”

“Blame it on the humidity,” Noah replied, cutting him off. “Which reminds me, when are they going to get the damn air conditioning fixed in this place?” He turned away, heading out of the office and into the changing rooms.

Felix fell in step. “Where are you going?”

“To do my job.”

“No. No. No,” he rattled off. “She’s been busting my chops for the last hour on account of you because I told her that you were working the Leeman case and…”

Noah glanced back. “You told her the truth?”

Felix came to a grinding halt. “I had no choice. Have you ever seen the look Savannah gives? You know, the one where you’re unsure if she’s peering into your soul or trying really hard to cause you to burst in flames.”

“You watch too much TV, Felix.”

Noah continued on and pushed his way into the changing rooms to get out of the sewage-filled shoes and pants that were splattered with all manner of shit, literally.

“Damn, Sutherland, you stink.” A cop wearing nothing more than a towel said as he passed him. Noah trailed a path of brown goo across the tiled floor before removing his shoes and clothes.

For a brief second, he thought he might be home free.

But the instant he heard the sound of her voice, he knew it was over.

“Sutherland! Where the fuck is he!?” Savannah yelled.

“Oh, I’m out of here,” Felix whispered, skirting around the steel lockers.

“Huh. So much for loyalty,” he muttered.

Noah could hear the clatter of heels as she approached. Savannah didn’t care that several state troopers were butt naked and towel drying off after getting out of the showers.

“Clear out of here,” she said to the other staff as she charged toward him.

Noah raised a hand. “Look, I know what you’re going to say and…”

She stabbed a finger at him. “What the hell were you thinking?” she said, slamming one of the locker doors so hard it bounced back out again. “You never got authorization from me to work with that unit. You even had Felix lying for you. He told me you put him on the Leeman case.”

“He wanted the experience.”

“Experience?” She threw her hands up in the air. “Noah! You know how long those guys have been working undercover? The DEA has been waiting on us to deliver some evidence, something to add credibility to this, and now you go barging in there, and all we have is a garage full of stolen vehicles.”

“Full of liquid morphine. Yeah, you can thank me later.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does,” Noah said, matching her volume and stabbing his finger at the floor.

He was the only one that could get away with it.

Long before she was his supervisor, she was his closest friend.

“You know how this would have played out. They would have delayed, delayed, delayed. It would have turned into a buy-and-bust sting operation. And we all know how that would have gone. They would have arrested the addict instead of targeting the dealer. We needed to find out where it was coming from and going to, and I think I know…” he said, swiping up the map.

“Look at this. The chop shop is here. In the sewers, they had tracks installed just like the cartel used below the Mexican border. They are bringing it into High Peaks and then funneling through the sewers. Everything is below ground. The informant was wrong. It’s not going out from used dealerships; it’s coming into dealerships and then distributed underground, and had I been given the chance, I think I know where those tracks were heading.

” He brought up his phone and showed her. “The Ashford Royale Casino.”

Savannah scoffed, shaking her head. She shifted from one foot to the next and paced a little.

“Noah, your personal vendetta against Luther Ashford is blinding you. Those sewers go everywhere,” she said, holding up the map in front of his face.

“Hell, they even run under here.” She set the map down and then thumbed over her shoulder.

“Get your shit together. You’re suspended until further notice. ”

“Hold on! What?”

“You heard me,” she said as she walked away.

Noah threw up a hand. “Come on, Savannah. You can’t be serious.”

“We will discuss this later.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I made a call.”

“Yeah, the wrong one.”

“I’m your friend; please, don’t do this.”

She turned back to him with a stern expression. “Yes, you are. But here, I’m your supervisor. Don’t get the two confused. You lied to me and got another officer to cover for you. I could have your badge. I’m sorry, Noah, but for now, go home.”

“Savannah.”

“Go home, Noah.”

He’d never seen her so angry, and yet he understood. With promotion came more responsibility, and it was her neck on the chopping board as much as it was his. Shit rolled downhill, and right now, she would have to crawl out from a pile of it.

It would be her who would have to explain to the DEA and higher-ups what had happened.

Noah ran a hand over his head. He stood there for a moment before sinking down onto one of the benches and letting out a sigh.

Maybe she was right.

Had his pursuit of the truth become a vendetta against Luther Ashford?

After what he’d discovered about him, the threat on Ray’s life, and his father’s involvement in a real estate business, he was beginning to think that the Ashfords had more reasons to thank him for the drug bust that had led to the brief closure of High Peaks Pub and Brewery.

His phone jangled in his pants pocket.

Noah reached over and fished it out.

It was his brother. He tapped accept. “Noah. Meet me down at that new neighborhood, Brookstone Community.”’

Noah sighed. “Ray, this is really not a good time.”

“Is murder ever a good time?”