Page 31 of The Smart Killer
Noah parked near the cordoned-off home, where yellow police tape fluttered a warning in the rain-soaked breeze. Saranac Lake Police Department cruisers were positioned strategically, flashing blue and red lights cutting through the grey gloom. Media vehicles lingered nearby, as reporters pressed for an interview. A drone drifted above and tried to capture a bird’s-eye view of the madness. The house stood as a beacon of modernity, a symphony of glass and steel with state-of-the-art technology. At least, the blurb on the advertising billboard in front of the subdivision claimed it was.
“All right, let’s do this,” Noah said, climbing out and going to the rear of his trunk. He removed a set of blue latex gloves. He glanced at Porter and handed him a pair. “Step where I do,”he instructed, a note of seriousness underlying his voice. Porter grinned back, eager but amused by his attempt to baby him.
Approaching the doorway, they were met by Officer Headley, a seasoned cop with a weathered face and eyes that had seen too much. “Nothing has been touched,” Headley stated grimly. “It’s exactly the way we found it.”
Noah frowned as he scanned the door. “No keylock?” he inquired, noting the absence of a conventional lock.
“That’s right, the last house was burned down so you wouldn’t have seen much of the tech.” Headley gestured to a small round camera. “Eye recognition. It scans the pupils of the occupants and unlocks the door. Smart technology. We had to contact the company that builds these to get an override. The place is more secure than Fort Knox. You might want to put these on,” he said, handing him footwear grips with metal studs. “It’s kind of slippery inside.”
“What?”
He pushed the door open, and they were greeted by the sight of ice. The scene inside was chilling. The once elegant living space was now transformed into a frozen tableau. Ice clung to the walls, and the floors were a treacherous surface of slippery frost. It was a thin layer, cracked by officers who had entered.
Although it was light outside, with the lights off in the interior, they had to use flashlights to see anything. Beams shone around the dark space.
Noah’s breath fogged the air as he surveyed the room, his eyes narrowing with curiosity and concern. “What the hell happened here?” he muttered, his mind racing with questions and possibilities.
“We have our theories, but let me show you something first,” Officer Headley said, leading them into the heart of the frozen nightmare — the kitchen. The air was thick with a biting cold, and the room felt like a mausoleum. The family, a man, awoman, and a child no older than eight, were huddled around the table, frozen in a tableau of despair. Their faces, contorted in fear, were forever etched in an expression of terror. It looked like they had been caught mid-meal, their lifeless eyes staring into the abyss.
Icicles hung precariously from every conceivable surface, sparkling in the dim light like deadly stalactites. The room was a chilling spectacle, a horrifying testament to the unforgiving power of the cold. In the center of the table, amidst the tragedy, were candles — dozens of them, their wicks untouched by fire. Beside the candles lay a box of matches, scattered haphazardly as if someone had desperately tried to light them.
Noah bent over, his gloved fingers gingerly prying the matchbox away from the thin ice. The ice shattered like glass shards. “They tried to light candles to keep themselves warm,” he said aloud, his voice barely audible over the freezing silence of the room.
Officer Headley nodded, his breath forming frosty clouds in the frigid air. “Tried. But couldn’t get them lit. From what we’ve deduced, it’s just a theory based on connecting the dots. The sprinkler system turned on at night, flooding every room with water, covering the walls, the floors, and the family while they slept. Every room has them,” he said, pointing up. “Fire deterrent. Not that it helped that family in High Peaks, right, detective?”
“Right,” Noah said, still immersed in the crime scene.
Headley continued. “Anyway, the air conditioning, which was running then, malfunctioned and dipped into minus temperatures.” He walked over to the wall and tapped a panel. “It basically turned the house into a damn walk-in freezer.”
“I thought air conditioning units couldn’t fall below a certain temperature,” Porter said.
“And I thought police work involved chasing bad guys, not a ton of paperwork. I guess we’re both disappointed.”
“It’s a serious question.”
“Do I look like I understand the finer points of this crap? This is just a theory. Ask the company who makes the technology.”
Porter nodded. “And then... what? Soaked and cold, the family decides to get dressed, gather around the table, and light candles? Why not leave?” Porter said.
“You are a detective, right?”
“Fuck you.”
“He’s in training,” Noah muttered, still captivated by the morbid scene. “And to answer your question, Porter. For the same reason the others didn’t leave the house on the night of the fire,” Noah said. He lifted his eyes to the windows, which were still covered. “They couldn’t.”
“Correct,” Officer Headley said. “They are built with retractable polycarbonate shields. The company that makes these tried to get the system working, but everything is frozen solid. Even when we could override and manually open the door, we had to use the RAM to break in.”
“And yet outside, it’s a warm, rainy day.”
Headley glanced at Porter, eyebrow raised. “We figure neighbors couldn’t hear them because of the heavy downpour and the sealed windows.”
“And no phone calls were made?”
“Seems not. Yep. Smart technology. Not so smart, eh, detective?”
“That will be all, officer,” Noah said. “You can wait outside.”
“Will do.”
