Page 15 of The Smart Killer
Savannah dabbed at the corners of her eyes, then crossed to a mirror on the wall. “Ugh, what a mess.”
“What’s the prognosis?” Noah asked.
“Well, it’s not good,” she replied, an edge to her voice. “The strange part is she’s so optimistic about it all. I’ve never seen anyone like that before. If it was me, I would be on the floor.”
“That’s Cora for you,” he said.
She nodded. “She’s already begun chemo. We’re taking it a day at a time.”
“Look, if there is anything I can do. Just tell me.”
“Appreciate that, Noah.” She glanced toward the door. “I shouldn’t do this. I really shouldn’t. No matter what, nothing excuses what you did. I know being back in this town has taken its toll, and the Sutherland reputation means something to people around here. But you need to respect the rules, just like everyone else.”
He nodded.
“So, I’m going to cut you a break this time. But you are going to work alongside someone.”
“What?”
“You are getting a partner.”
“Oh, hell no. We don’t work like that. I don’t work like that.”
“You do now.” She approached the door and shouted into the office. “Felix, send Porter into the break room.”
“Savannah. I’m not babysitting a rookie.”
“You were one once.”
“Yeah, but…” He was at a loss for words. “I’m the worst person you could put him with. You said yourself I have a tendency to break the rules.”
“Exactly. And no one is better to hold you to them than someone fresh out of the academy and knowing nothing but the rules. Just because Hugh Sutherland is your father, it doesn’t mean you get to ride solo and do whatever you like.”
“C’mon. You cannot be serious.”
“You want to go home?” She waited for him to speak. “That’s what I thought.”
After a moment, they both looked toward the doorway, where a young man stepped tentatively inside. Porter was fresh-faced, his eyes wide with a hint of naivety, as if he was just starting to grasp the complexities of the world he was stepping into. He had an earnestness about him, a genuine desire to do good, evident in how he held himself. It was like looking in a mirror from decades ago.
His hair was a messy mop of dark curls, falling slightly over his forehead, and his suit, though neat, had the crispness of someone unaccustomed to the rigors of the job. Despite his apparent lack of experience, there was a determination in his eyes.
Savannah turned, her voice firm but kind. “Noah, meet detective in training Declan Porter.”
5
Delivering a death notification was brutal.
No amount of training in the academy prepared law enforcement. Training amounted to less than five minutes. A flash-in-the-pan guidance on empathy and a few tips on wording; the rest was a pat on the back, and best of luck. Noah had seen many a deputy crumble or even ask another if they wanted to do it. There was no shame in it; every cop understood. No matter how the message was delivered, it was even more challenging when an officer knew those left behind.
Fortunately, unbeknownst to Noah, someone had already beaten him to the punch.
Porter followed him like a shadow, trying to keep up. “Hey, uh, where are we going?”
“To deliver some bad news.”
“Yo! Wait up!”
Noah stopped on a dime and turned toward him. “First, don’t address me with your slang. I’m not some punk on the streets. And second, you catch up, I don’t wait up. Got it?” He turned away, continuing across the parking lot.
