Page 1 of The Smart Killer
PROLOGUE
The letter whispered a warning.
In the tranquil embrace of the evening, as the first stars shone in the sky and the glow of streetlights painted the neighborhood in a warm ambiance, Adam Johnson’s weary steps carried him from his white Tesla to the mailbox. Another day of work was behind him, and the anticipation of relaxation beckoned.
As he walked back toward the house, sifting through the envelopes and junk mail, the weight of routine momentarily lifted. Among the letters, one stood out — a distinct envelope that seemed to hold something more than bills or ads. He tore it open, revealing a message typed in bold black ink.
“Dear neighbor. For your family’s safety, leave these premises immediately and don’t return.”
Adam stopped walking.
He flipped over the envelope. There was no letterhead and no return address on the back. The address was printed — nothing to indicate who had sent it.
His brow furrowed, and he looked around, eyes scanning the neighborhood houses. A door closed, someone lounged in aporch rocker, another had a cigarette in hand while a passerby exchanged a knowing glance.
He chuckled, shaking his head and dismissing the message as an ill-conceived prank — a sour joke, perhaps spurred by his interracial relationship. Crumpling the paper, he shot a bemused smile at the night and tossed it into the garbage can with the rest of the junk mail.
Adam stepped inside and closed the door behind him, oblivious to the actual weight of the words as he cocooned himself in the comfort of his modern home.
1
It was hellish. The once tranquil town of High Peaks had become a battleground of fire and fear. As the chaotic scene unraveled over the lakefront community, the blaze tore through the home, creating an eerie crimson glow in the night sky. Captain Jake Hudson sat up front in the fire truck, scanning the scene as it rushed to meet him.
His radio buzzed with updates, each report more urgent than the last. The fire had spread with astonishing speed, defying all logic and reason.
With over sixty wildfires in Adirondack County in the past year, talk of training on controlled burns had been on the lips of everyone in the region. His initial thought on the way over was this was just another wildfire, except it wasn’t.
That subdivision in High Peaks shouldn’t have been a high-risk location. Extreme measures were taken to ensure the neighborhood wouldn’t have to worry. The cost of nabbing a home there solidified it even further.
The night was alive with sirens wailing mournfully and the incessant honking of horns — a symphony of panic and urgencythat echoed through the forested hills. Twenty-one members responded to the scene.
As fire trucks from the local fire department rolled in, their flashing lights cast eerie shadows across towering pines.
Like always, he had seconds to assess the situation and determine a plan of action.
Human life always came first, but one look at the property through the windshield, and it was clear no one could have survived if they weren’t already out.
Flames had devoured the modern home, its sleek architecture transformed into a nightmarish inferno. The walls groaned and crackled under the relentless assault of the fire’s voracious appetite. Embers danced through the air like malevolent fireflies, leaving a trail of destruction behind.
Jake glanced at the other firefighters decked out in protective gear, their expressions a mask of concentration, except for one.
“Hunter. First-day jitters. Everyone gets them, kid. You’ll do fine,” he said.
It had been two decades since he’d been in his position. With all the training they got, no one could prepare them for the real thing. It, indeed, was a sink-or-swim moment.
He glanced back out the window.
A slew of community residents had emerged from their homes, their faces etched with disbelief.
The acrid scent of burning wood and melting plastic hung heavy in the air, stinging Jake’s nostrils through the open window.
“All right, folks, look lively!”
As they swerved to a stop and exited the truck, the night came alive with frenetic activity.
The team clad in heavy gear sprang into action, hoses snaking through the darkness, their efforts illuminated by the blaze. Instinct, training, and years of experience fighting firestook over. Shouts and commands were drowned out by the roaring fire, the crackling of burning wood, and the anguished cry of a neighbor’s child.
A man jogged over to them, his face blackened by smoke, full of anguish.
