Page 53 of The Smart Killer
Addie set the tablet down, her gaze flicking between them. “Have you managed to find a connection?”
Noah sighed, running a hand around his neck to work out the tension from sleeping in a chair. “Beyond them living in homes built by the same company, not so far. None of the families knew each other; they were in different neighborhoods, so that kind of rules out neighborhood disputes. If there is someone behind this…”
“If?” McKenzie said, cutting him off and scoffing. “Come on, laddie, this whole thing stinks to high heaven of someone with a vendetta.”
“No, look. I get it. It’s strange. It’s downright unusual. But we have no fingerprints, hair, spit, or semen. Fibers?” He glanced at Addie. She shook her head. “See. No trace evidence. There is no image on camera of anyone entering or leaving. What are we expected to believe, that our perp is a damn ghost?” He shook his head. “Even the angle of someone hacking into the homes and taking control of the security and smart devices only makes sense if there was a reason.”
“We shouldn’t have let him go,” a voice from behind said. Noah turned to see Porter enter the room through the opendoor. He was holding a folder in his hand. “We had the reason. Sutherland. Hell, we had him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The connection is right here, along with a full print that matches that asshole. See for yourself,” he said, handing over the folder.
“The rookie, I presume?” McKenzie said.
Porter glanced at him as Noah opened the folder and pulled out two pieces of paper in plastic sleeves.
“What is this?” Noah asked.
“That, my friend, is the smoking gun that ties all this together. You remember Callie saying that Johnson received a letter a few days before he died, warning him to leave. While you were occupied last night, I figured I would see if the local PD managed to find that letter. Sure enough, the trash pulled from Johnson’s house contained it. Crumpled up but still intact,” he said, tapping the letter. “Now, here’s the interesting part. I then sifted through the trash collected from the next home. And lo and behold, he sent a letter to them. Besides both letters being the same warning, only one had a fingerprint. Guess which one.”
“The Johnson house,” Noah said.
“Yep. Our guy got sloppy or thought it would go up in flames with the rest of the house, but Johnson dumped it in the trash outside. Forensics managed to lift a full print. It matches Alejandro Diaz’s from the system. We had him, Noah.”
“And you let him go?” McKenzie asked, puzzled.
Noah glanced at him for a second. “So, send a patrol car over.”
“We did. Two. He’s not home. He’s not at his work. No one can find him.”
Noah turned, storming out of the M.E.’s office. “Does Savannah know?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure she’ll find out soon enough. But hold up, Noah. We already have a BOLO out on him. Where are you going?”
“I think I know where he might have gone.”
17
The sunlight cast a golden hue over the Adirondack Mountains, almost blinding him as Noah raced through the winding roads, gripping the steering wheel of the Bronco, his heart racing in time with the pulsating lights. Beside him, Porter sat tensely, his young face marked with apprehension. Detective McKenzie trailed behind them in his cruiser, his gaze fixed on them.
They already had officers en route and had verified that Alejandro had his mother’s vehicle. The Bronco rumbled under them as Noah pushed the accelerator, the engine’s growl harmonizing with the wailing sirens. Through the windshield, the beauty of the Adirondacks seemed at odds with the encroaching darkness as they approached the Holy Cross Church.
It was a gut instinct.
The conversation with his mother had tipped him off.
Despite his past, Noah got a real sense that Alejandro was trying to turn his life around, trying to walk the straight and narrow, from the cross around his neck to the comments made by Melissa Diaz.
“I’m just saying it makes no sense,” Noah murmured, his voice barely audible over the blaring sirens.
“Of course it does,” Porter replied. “These were all families he spied on. They testified against him.”
Noah shook his head, his mind grappling with the inexplicable nature of the case. “Every home he had access to testified against him; these three weren’t the exception. He would have targeted more if this was some form of revenge.”
“Maybe he wasn’t through. Maybe he was just getting started,” Porter suggested, his eyes glued to the road. “Put your ego aside, Sutherland. Even you can be wrong.”
As they neared the church, he noticed the serene façade of the stone building, its stained-glass windows shimmering in the morning light. As soon as the Bronco breached the parking lot, Noah saw the gold Chrysler parked outside. He killed the engine, and they sprang into action. Porter swiftly moved to secure the back entrance, his determination evident in his every step. Noah and Angus entered through the main doors, the heavy wood creaking under their touch.
