Page 73 of The Smart Killer
His heart pounded as he jogged toward the beckoning voice, lifting the tactical goggles from his eyes. In the dim glow, he discovered Gavin slumped lifelessly in an office chair, a single, haunting entry wound on his forehead. Nearby, Zeke lay on the floor, a mirror image of death etched on his face.
Reality hit Ray like a punch in the gut. Someone had betrayed them, extinguishing the lives of those they could have flipped to go higher up the chain. The room seemed to close in on him as he processed the grim scene, the weight of the situation settling heavy.
The crackle of his radio cut through the air, a distorted lifeline from Team B; his expression was tense as he pressed the button on his headset, responding, “Go ahead.”
“It’s up in smoke,” the voice on the other end relayed, urgency tinging every syllable.
Ray cocked his head, the weight of what he was hearing sinking in. “Repeat that,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil brewing in his gut and the noise of SWAT around him.
“The house. It’s on fire,” came the ominous reply.
As Ray stepped out of the back office, a surreal scene unfolded. The once-controlled chaos of the SWAT operation now spiraled into uncertainty. Across the bowling lanes, a voice cut through the disarray. “Call for the bomb squad!” The words hung in the air, a stark realization that the situation had escalated beyond their expectations.
Before Ray could issue further instructions, the building shuddered with a deafening explosion, followed closely by another. The shock waves rippled through the structure, causing dust to dance in the air.
“Get out!” Ray’s command pierced the comms unit, a desperate plea for his team’s safety. The SWAT members approached the main doors one by one, navigating the disorienting haze of smoke and debris.
Ray, undeterred by the chaos, ran across the room. Amid the echoing explosions and falling chunks of the ceiling, he reached a SWAT officer who had been blown back by the force of the first blast. With a surge of adrenaline, Ray grabbed the unconscious officer by the collar, his movements urgent. The ceiling rained down on them as he struggled to drag his fallen comrade to safety.
As the pressure intensified, another officer appeared at Ray’s side, silently acknowledging the unspoken bond between them in the face of danger. Together, they pulled the injured officerthrough the tumult, escaping the maw of the building as the air quivered with the force of yet another explosion.
Ray coughed hard, backing away, looking on as Big G’s crumbled.
Once filled with anticipation and promise, the night now crackled with the acrid scent of destruction.
25
Morning light seeped through the blinds of the Adirondack Sheriff’s Office, casting a somber glow over the war room’s sleek surfaces and high-tech equipment.
Noah had been at the office for hours, navigating the labyrinth of data and leads in the hunt for answers to the smart killer — a name dubbed by Carl McNeal. As he perched on the edge of a desk, his gaze shifted between the myriad of screens that covered the walls, each a window into the complexity of criminal investigations.
Detective McKenzie, his distinctive Scottish accent cutting through the room, entered first, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. His easygoing demeanor belied the gravity of most situations they found themselves in. With a wry smile, he cracked a joke. “I sure as hell hope this is important and not about you announcing having a sex change.”
“And steal your thunder?”
“Cheeky bastard.”
Noah pushed off the desk, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Porter not here yet?” he inquired.
“Oh, you know how these rookies are, especially ones who cracked their first case. He’s probably filled his morning with early interviews.” McKenzie’s expression shifted, concerned lines spreading on his face. “Anyway, any good news on Ethan?”
Noah sighed, the weight settling over him like a heavy shroud. “No. He’s in a medically induced coma.”
McKenzie met his gaze, understanding passing between them. “You know you don’t have to be here, Noah.”
“I do,” Noah asserted, his voice firm. “There’s nothing I can do at the hospital. Gretchen and my father are taking turns being there. They’ll keep me in the loop of any changes.”
As the room awaited the arrival of Porter, the silence lingered, punctuated only by the soft hum of the electronic equipment. The war room had been designed to assist in unraveling the intricacies of criminal cases. It now stood witness to the personal struggles that entwined with the professional duties of those within its walls. The screens, once filled with data and potential leads, seemed to mirror the uncertainty that had seeped into Noah’s life, a reminder that sometimes, the most complex puzzles were the ones that hit closest to home.
“So, I caught the tail end of a news report this morning before I arrived. Your brother Ray was interviewed at the bowling alley about the place going up in flames last night. One wounded SWAT guy. He was damn lucky to have survived. Something about a drug ring, a link to liquid morphine. Can you imagine that? Sounds like that shit is back in town.”
“It never left.”
“Yeah, well, whoever was behind it wanted to send a clear message and made sure to keep lips from flapping. The media tried to interview a bunch of teens. None of them mentioned drugs.”
“Well, they aren’t going to announce it, McKenzie.”
He sniffed hard and took a swig of his coffee. “Anyways, they found the owner and one of his employees dead, execution style. Point-blank. You’d think these idiots by now would learn that getting their hands dirty isn’t going to end well.”
