Page 26 of The Smart Killer
Here, they had far less.
All they really had was a statement from a drugged-up teen with a history of arson and the account from Adam and some surveillance footage.
“Alibi checked out,” Ray said from across the table in a conference room at the High Peaks Police Station. “Adam couldn’t have been there at the time of the blaze. Our video canvass of the neighborhood and the security gate have him leaving around the same time as Jason said. We verified through receipts and CCTV that he collected gasoline from the local Exxon, stopped by Price Chopper, bought alcohol from the liquor store, and then arrived at his boat at the marina. Unless he had some kind of timer set to start the fire, there is no concrete evidence that would suggest Adam Johnson caused the fire.”
“And Jason?”
“It’s possible. Jason was seen on camera but nowhere near the home. The thing about that neighborhood is it’s all high-tech. All the homes have front and rear-facing cameras. Streetlights have them, too. You are not prowling that neighborhood without someone capturing you on video. It’s one of the smart home communities geared toward tech heads. One of the marketing pitches for selling the homes was peace of mind through top-of-the-line security.”
“And the home before this. The family that suffered from gas poisoning. Anything from those?”
“Nothing. The same. The company that owns these neighborhoods cooperated, and the fire chief Ansel Carlton said everything works in neighboring homes.”
“So local PD is going with the possibility of faulty tech?” Noah said.
“It seems so. It’s new tech.”
“It’s to be expected,” Porter muttered.
“What?” Noah asked.
“Growing pains. Every manufacturer experiences it while they work out the kinks.”
Ray cocked his head. “I’m no lawyer, but I’d say there will be some pain when a class action lawsuit eventually hits.”
“I doubt it will get to that. The source of the fire was classed as undetermined. The home before that it was gas poisoning. There is no way for a lawyer to prove they are connected beyond the homes being built by the same company. No one can pin the blame as they don’t know who or what caused it. It could have been an accident.”
“That’s not what the fire chief thinks.”
“What anyone thinks and what is truth can be worlds apart.”
Ray chuckled. “I agree, but the crash and fire investigations unit aren’t in the business of wasting our time if they didn’t thinkit was suspicious.” Ray took a sip of his coffee. “Anyway, this is why I have always been slow to embrace new tech. But tell that to this generation that lives for convenience. I’m telling you, the push towards more tech in homes, cars, and workplaces is becoming a two-edged sword that eventually we will all fall on.”
The door opened, and an officer poked her head in. “Ray. The news conference is about to start shortly.”
“Already?” Noah asked. “I thought…”
Ray tossed his empty cup into a garbage can. “You not seen the newspaper this morning?” he said, reaching into a bag and dumping it on the table in full view. “We have to put out a few fires of our own.”
Noah scooped it up and read some salacious headlines and the articles Carl McNeal wrote at theAdirondack Daily Enterprise.“Targeted attacks? Local PD has linked the deaths!”
Ray shrugged. “You know how it is. Media need some titillating headline to sell papers.”
“But no one said they’re linked.”
“Now you know why the chief is holding a press conference.”
He stepped out of the room, and Noah followed. Porter wasn’t far behind. He had been in his shadow since eight that morning. Noah had wanted to speak to Ethan, but that would have to wait.
The room crackled with tension as Noah entered the crowded conference room in the High Peaks Police Department. The air was thick with stress and lingering anxiety. The walls, though filled with commendation plaques and framed newspaper clippings, now seemed to close in on attendees. Reporters, their faces etched with curiosity and concern, scribbled notes and adjusted their cameras in anticipation of the briefing.
Among them was Carl McNeal, the smug asshole who now held the same title that Lena once had down at the local newspaper.
At the front of the room stood Chief of High Peaks Police Darren Welland, a stern and authoritative figure whose eyes held the weight of the unfolding crisis. He wore his uniform proudly, the badge on his chest reflecting the bright overhead lights. Behind him, a large screen displayed images of the aftermath of the recent fire: charred remnants, smoke billowing into the night sky, and firefighters battling the infernos.
Chief Welland cleared his throat, the sound reverberating through the room, and the hushed murmurs of the attendees fell silent. His expression was grave, his voice steady as he addressed the assembled crowd. “Morning, everybody. We appreciate your time. We always want to thank you for your important role in getting information to our communities. I am joined today by the fire chief of High Peaks, Chief Ansel Carlton, and head of the crash and fire investigations unit, Michael Bowen.” He turned and pointed to him. “Thank you, sir, for being with us today.” Welland glanced down at the papers in front of him before looking out. “We are here to talk about the fire that claimed four lives two nights ago. I want to remind you all that this is an ongoing investigation, so there won’t be much we can talk about, but I will open it up at the end for questions. I wish to emphasize that with the assistance of the state and our detectives, we will have more answers for you soon. With that, let’s begin.”
The following half an hour became a blur as the fire chief reiterated the same information given to them — that the source of the fire was undetermined. He provided some additional insights into how it could have started and what steps were being taken to ensure the safety of homeowners from the same neighborhood.
