Page 30 of The Smart Killer

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.”

9

The second crime scene was touted as unusual.

Seven miles outside of High Peaks, in Saranac Lake, one town over, a family had been found dead inside a state-of-the-art home. The call had come into dispatch just after eleven from a grandmother who was supposed to go out with her daughter for breakfast. After a no-show, she’d driven over to check in on her and gotten no answer.

Without a key to enter the property, she phoned to ask for a wellness check.

Unfortunately, due to an influx of calls, a miscommunication led to a mix-up in the address and a delay in Saranac Lake police contacting the local State Police.

It took Noah less than twenty minutes to get there despite heavy traffic and declining weather conditions.

“Is this rain ever going to let up?” Porter said, peering out while Noah was on a phone call with Ray.

Noah nodded, gripping the wheel tightly as he continued his conversation. Over the speaker, Ray said, “So Officer Headley will be there to meet you. Keep me informed. Media thinks we’ve got a serial killer on our hands.”

“Alleged.”

“We’ll see,” Ray muttered before he hung up.

Minutes later, he swerved into the closed-gate community, noting the sign outside for modern homes from a company called Lakeridge Homes. The same company had built the neighborhoods in High Peaks.

The rain fell relentlessly, creating a melancholic rhythm on the roof of the Bronco as it wound its way through the suburban maze. Plots that had been sold but not yet built on were dotted throughout. They were in different stages of development.

“I wonder how much one of these homes goes for?”

“Probably more than yours and my wages,” Noah replied.

The houses were imposing, upscale residences with meticulously manicured lawns and sleek, modern designs. Despite the dreary weather, the neighborhood exuded an air of affluence and sophistication.

Porter noted the same cameras throughout.

“You would think privacy laws would prohibit so many cameras. Who buys these places?”

“People with more money than sense,” Noah said.