Page 5 of The Smart Killer
“Get on the floor,” a sheriff’s deputy hollered as someone inside tried to exit through a side window. Noah only had one location in mind, the garage inspection bay where a vehicle would have been hoisted up to give access to the inspection pit, a narrow trench that could be driven over while service was performed beneath. The use of the hole negated the need for a jack.
“Get down now!”
All over the building, officers shouted their commands.
Multiple workers in blue gear dropped to the floor, arms spread-eagled. Based on memory from looking at the screen for hours, Noah did a quick head count. One was missing.
“I’ve got eight.”
“Where’s your pal? Huh?” Marcus yelled at one guy.
Noah didn’t wait. He hopped into the trench, where he found a closed metal grate He cocked his head at the sound of movement. He lifted it and peered down a ladder that disappeared into the sewers.
“Ten bucks says our man is down there.” Noah crouched, preparing to go down.
“You’re not serious, are you?” Marcus said.
“Follow the trail. That’s what we’re here for.”
“No, we are here to…” Before Marcus could finish, Noah was already in motion.
Against his better judgment, he began to descend, the soles of his boots slipping on the oily remnants as he clung to the steely ladder for dear life. Far below, he could hear the rush ofthe sewers and the sloshing of water. The smell was atrocious, the darkness suffocating.
As he reached the bottom of the ladder and dropped into ankle-deep sewer water, Noah turned on a flashlight, and the beam illuminated the tunnel. The first thing that caught his eye was makeshift tracks that had been installed.
Over the comms, he said, “They’re transporting like the cartel does under the border.”
“Sutherland!” Harris yelled from on high. He glanced up to see a red-cheeked, bulbous-nosed state cop peering down. “Get your ass up here!”
Noah pointed down the tunnel. “He’s getting away.”
“The pursuit is off.”
“Like hell it is, we need to—”
“Not today,” Harris said, cutting him off. “That’s an order.”
“From who, you?”
“From higher up.”
Noah didn’t need to ask who he meant; he knew.
He glanced down the tunnel; hearing the slosh of water as the ninth man escaped. He balled his fist and cursed.
Back at StatePolice Troop B Headquarters, Noah entered the busy office to be greeted by the tapping of keyboards, phones ringing off the hook, and steady conversation. The atmosphere quickly changed to laughter, cheers, and a few claps from some of his colleagues.
“Great job, Sutherland,” Pete Moss said, followed by a smirk as he passed him.
Terry Braithwaite, a man who had been gunning for his position since day one, flicked a toothpick into a garbage bin.“Hey Sutherland, what does it feel like to blow your shot too early?”
He kept walking. “I don’t know, Terry, let me ask your wife,” he replied in jest.
Making his way to his desk, he eyed Savannah Legacy’s office. She was the last person he wanted or needed to speak to, but it was an unavoidable conversation. He swung into his seat and tapped a key to bring his screen to life.
A younger investigator appeared at his side.
“Oh, she is pissed.”
