Page 74 of The Smart Killer
“Some are slow to learn,” Noah added.
“And others are quick,” Porter said, waltzing into the office. “Morning, folks.”
“Aye, here he is, the American Sherlock Holmes himself.”
Porter waved McKenzie off. “Please.”
“I caught that interview you did with… what’s his name?”
“Carl McNeal,” Porter said, glancing at Noah. “That guy is just full of stories.”
“That’s not all he’s full of,” Noah replied stoically. “Anyway, shall we get to it?” he said, shifting the conversation away from that scum.
Noah hit a button on a remote, and his gaze flickered over various screens. The data streaming back across the monitors was related to the Lakeridge case. Porter was the first to speak. “What am I looking at here?” he asked, directing his question toward Noah, who had been immersed in the case for hours.
Noah, with a heavy exhale, pointed to a particular piece of data. “Another letter.”
Porter and McKenzie exchanged perplexed glances. “And that means?” Porter inquired, his tone tinged with impatience.
“This isn’t over,” Noah stated firmly, his eyes fixed on the letter on the screen.
Porter shifted his weight, a dubious expression spread across his face. “You are shitting me? I came in for this?”
“Our guy is still out there,” Noah declared, his conviction cutting through the room.
Porter pointed first to McKenzie and then to Noah. “He’s joking, right? This is all a big joke?”
McKenzie, his expression grave, bowed his head ever so slightly, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes. He knew Noah well enough to trust his instincts despite initially disagreeing with him.
“The case is over, Sutherland. We have our man,” Porter said.
Noah shook his head, frustration shining through. “No, you led them to believe we had him. I told you that the investigation was still active. I also told you to not jump the gun on giving interviews to the media. Especially that slime ball McNeal.”
“Alejandro could have sent that letter ahead of time before he died. That’s proof.”
“Not exactly, but…”
“Just admit you’re pissed because I solved it. I said it was him when we met him, and he ran. But you wouldn’t listen to me. No, I lack the experience, you said.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied.”
“Ay, ladies. Calm down.” Both of them were glaring at each other as McKenzie continued. “There’s no point in you two comparing dick sizes, as I’m sure you’ll find that both of you fall short of mine, so how about we just focus on this case.” He pointed at Porter. “And you, rookie, show some respect and hear him out.”
“Thank you, McKenzie,” Noah said. “I’m pretty sure Savannah asked you to shadow me, not the other way around.”
“Oh, screw you, Sutherland.”
McKenzie lifted a finger while placing his other hand on his zipper. “I swear I will flop mine out right now and end this spat if you two don’t drop it.”
Porter raised a hand in the air, shaking his head. “This is bullshit,” he said, slumping down into a seat. “Well, go on then. Let’s hear your theory.” He sipped at his coffee. His skepticism was evident as he grappled with the implications of Noah’srevelation. Once a symbol of clarity and strategy, the war room had become a battleground of conflicting perspectives. The tension in the room mirrored the discord that had infiltrated the investigation.
Noah pointed to the screen. “This letter was sent to my father.”
“Hugh?” McKenzie asked in surprise. Noah nodded. “But his home isn’t one of the builds from Lakeridge or anywhere near the neighborhood.”
“I know, which got me thinking about why he would receive one. You see, we’ve been so focused on Alejandro because of his past—”
