Page 40 of The Smart Killer (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #4)
C onfusion had led to his escape.
Barring their badge, which they didn’t have time to show — outwardly, there was nothing to indicate they were from State Police or the Adirondack County Sherriff’s Office. It was the downside to being a detective.
After squaring things away with one of the officers on scene and waiting to get a search warrant, Noah learned the stolen sedan had been found abandoned a few miles down the road near Dunkin’s Reserve State Forest. Plattsburgh PD had eyes in the sky, canine out, and was actively pursuing Emmett based on the description they gave.
“I came this close to dying,” McKenzie said, smoking a cigarette and gesturing with two fingers. Noah knew McKenzie hadn’t smoked in years. While he carried a pack in his pocket, he only placed one between his lips occasionally and never lit it.
Until now.
He breathed out a cloud of smoke.
“You’re lucky.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” McKenzie said.
“After he shot me, he approached and pointed the gun down at me. There was this moment, Noah. I swear.” His hand was trembling.
“I thought my number was up. I really did. If it wasn’t for a neighbor coming out…
” he trailed off and took a hard pull on the cigarette.
He was sitting on the rear step of the ambulance, his ballistic vest off so the EMTs could examine him.
Besides having a large welt, one that would go a deep shade of purple in the days following, he was alive and unharmed.
Not far away, the pregnant woman was being lifted into another ambulance to be taken to the hospital. Emmett had dragged her out of her vehicle and slammed her on the ground, face first.
Noah patted McKenzie on the shoulder. “Go home.”
“Go home? Like hell. This is personal now.”
“Which is why you should go home,” Noah said. Right then, a State Police vehicle swerved into the lot, and Declan Porter got out; he spoke with one of the officers who had cordoned off the area and then glanced in Noah’s direction.
“Great. Here we go again,” Noah muttered.
“Let me deal with it,” McKenzie said, rising.
Before Noah could protest, McKenzie was already three steps ahead of him. “Before you open your dumb trap. You listen up, laddie. We might have caught him sooner if it wasn’t for you blurting your mouth off to the press.”
“Oh, so I’m bad the guy here. I’m pretty fucking sure you agreed with me, dumbass.”
“What did you say?” McKenzie slipped off the grey blanket around his shoulders, his hand clenched.
Noah darted in, putting his hands out to keep them back from one another. “You. Go sit your ass down,” he said to McKenzie, then he turned to Porter. “And you, come with me,” he said, crossing the lot.
“Look, I’m sorry. Okay. I figured we had him. I came as quickly as I could. I brought the search warrant,” Porter said, waving it in the air, trying to make it clear that he hadn’t just shown up empty-handed.
Noah pressed on toward the apartments, saying nothing.
“Are you going to tell Savannah about this morning?”
Noah still didn’t respond.
“Sutherland.”
Noah wheeled around. “Look, I get it. Okay! You’re young; you’re trying to make your mark.
You want respect. You want to be the hero, but there are no heroes in this line of work, Porter — just cops trying to get home to their families alive,” he said, pointing to McKenzie, who was taking one drag after another on the cigarette.
Seasoned cop or not, moments like what happened in the apartment brought home the reality of their line of work.
Shit could go south at any time. Noah leaned toward him, jabbing a finger at the ground.
“If you think the public gives a shit about you, it’s because you’ve watched one too many TV shows.
They don’t. You don’t even enter their minds while they chow down on their morning cereal.
That’s the fucking truth. People don’t want to read about how you caught some asshole after he slaughtered three families.
All they want to know is why you didn’t catch him sooner.
Hell, they expect us to make sure assholes like that don’t get headlines.
” He paused. “You have every bit of the makings of a good detective, Porter, but you must understand this job isn’t a race to snag front-page news.
We signed up to be ghosts, blurring in the background of society, doing what is necessary so that regular folk can go to work, kiss their loved ones good night, and wake up the next day and do that shit all over again.
That’s the job. That’s all they care about.
The sooner you realize that, the sooner you’ll put your ego aside. ”
Porter stared back at him, nodding.
“All right?” Noah asked.
“All right.”
Noah ensured all the officers remained outside on the fourth floor but kept the door open while they headed in. Burned-out lightbulbs dangled from the ceiling, casting uneven shadows on the worn-out furniture, causing Noah and Porter to use flashlights.
The air held the faint odor of stale cigarette smoke and a musty carpet.
The atmosphere inside Landon Emmett’s apartment was thick with neglect. The dim light revealed a space that bore the signs of an unremarkable dwelling, a place that clearly had little purpose except to allow him to sleep, eat, and obsess.
As they cautiously moved through the apartment, they discovered a peculiar mix of technology books neatly arranged on a side table.
However, the true curiosity lay on the walls.
Newspaper articles and magazine cutouts related to Lakeridge homes, their smart home system, and the many awards and accolades garnered, adorned every inch.
Drone shots of neighborhoods and families, eerily reminiscent of the murder scenes, covered the walls with a terrifying, chaotic collage.
“Guy is obsessed with Lakeridge,” Porter observed, his flashlight gliding over the peculiar display.
“The question is why,” Noah replied softly, studying the photos of Michael Taylor. Among them, he noticed a recurring motif — a giant red X across Taylor’s face in some while Emmett had replaced Taylor’s head with his own in others. “Now that is some weird shit.”
They continued the search, delving into drawers, closets, and the bathroom.
Noah, engrossed in the bizarre spectacle, noticed numerous technology books on smart devices and the future of homes, but among them were several out-of-place volumes that covered historical material.
On the front covers were photos of Nikola Tesla and Thomas Edison.
Titles like The War Over the Currents, and Tesla: The Genius, Edison: The Businessman stood out.
A quick search of Google on Noah’s phone revealed no mention of Landon Emmett’s connection with Lakeridge.
“Sutherland,” Porter called out from another room.
Noah crossed the room to find Porter in front of an open drawer, revealing a trove of torn photos.
Porter held up a photo, one half featured Michael Taylor, and the other displayed other people, and among them was a younger version of the man Noah had seen on the stairs.
“Looks like Taylor knew him.”
The torn photos depicted a connection between the two men, suggesting a deeper link than initially suspected.
As the two investigators sifted through the remnants of Emmett’s life, the mysterious motives behind his obsession with Lakeridge and the murders began to unravel.
Yet, the puzzle was far from complete, leaving them to contemplate the strange intersection of technology, obsession, and darkness within Emmett’s disturbed mind.