Page 76 of The Smart Killer
Porter chuckled. “Not sure?” He shook his head, rising from his chair. “Well, I’m glad you’ve cleared up that matter,” Porter said, walking toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Noah asked. “I’m not done.”
“You aren’t. I am. We got our guy. Case closed.”
That said, Porter walked out of the war room, leaving a tense atmosphere behind him. The harsh fluorescent lights cast long shadows as he disappeared down the hallway, convinced he had found the perpetrator responsible for the murders.
Noah and McKenzie exchanged uncertain glances, their doubts evident.
As the door swung shut, an awkward silence settled over the room, amplifying the distant hum of office equipment. McKenzie, the most seasoned detective out of the two, with apenchant for skepticism, broke the stillness by standing up, his expression troubled. “I don’t want to believe Porter is right any more than you, Noah,” McKenzie said, his voice cutting through the uneasy quiet. “But you must admit you are asking us to go out on a limb here. In my experience, I tend to lean towards Occam’s Razor. The simplest explanation is preferable to the more complex one.”
“Complex for who? Our guy is smart, McKenzie. I don’t know why he’s targeting Lakeridge right now, but whatever it is, he’s pulled it off almost perfectly.”
“Almost?”
Noah cocked his head.
Whether it was his age, curiosity, or having done the job for so long, McKenzie continued to follow his theory. Theories were all they had when evidence was far and few between. “Okay, look, if Alejandro knew who was behind this and felt he couldn’t go to the cops, then why the letters?”
Noah, his mind racing with multiple thoughts, was quick to respond. “Anonymity. I think Alejandro was afraid for more reasons than one.”
Noah crossed the room and reached into his coat, laid across a table behind him, and retrieved a magazine, the same one taken from Stephen Coleman’s home.
As he walked back, McKenzie continued, “So, how did they meet?”
McKenzie frowned, a deep line forming between his brows. Noah dropped the magazine open to a full-page advertisement. McKenzie picked it up, his eyes scanning the glossy page.
“A drone?” McKenzie said. “You think our guy was using a drone to observe the homes?” McKenzie asked, full of skepticism.
Noah nodded. “After.”
McKenzie looked at him, waiting for an explanation for why he was so convinced. Noah began recounting a conversation he had with Savannah and the revelation he had during the investigation. “Listen, I said to Savannah, if you got out of jail and were eager to exact revenge, wouldn’t you at least want to observe them? She replied, maybe he did. That stuck with me. With the system up, he could hack in and see the families without any problem. But once the system was shut off at the first crime scene, burnt to a crisp at the second, and frozen at the third, I think he would have wanted to see the aftermath, the reaction of the media, to check to see who might have escaped, if any, and to make sure everything worked. Call it morbid curiosity. Then, it came to me on the day I attended the third crime scene. Media people were behind the tape, vying for an interview, and a drone was flying overhead. At the time, I just assumed it was one of theirs.”
He stared at McKenzie, who was now fully engrossed, and said, “It wasn’t?”
Noah shook his head. “I phoned Maggie at the paper. None of the media in attendance were using a drone.”
McKenzie shrugged, attempting to rationalize the situation. “Well, perhaps, it was a lookie-loo, a rubbernecker from the neighborhood. They always show up.”
“They do,” Noah agreed, his gaze unwavering. “As do those who return to crime scenes.”
“So, this drone you saw at the crime scene — you think it’s our guy?”
Noah nodded.
“Why not Alejandro?”
“For the reasons I already explained.”
“All right.” McKenzie groaned, glancing down at the magazine. “But look, Noah, the range on these is anywhere from 100 meters if it’s a toy, 4 kilometers if it’s a hobby drone, andup to 15 kilometers if it’s a multi-rotor. Our guy could have been observing from miles away.”
“But that’s the thing, I don’t think he was miles away,” he said, turning toward the screen and using the remote. “I reviewed the media footage from the last three crime scenes last night. The recordings are available to the public online. Not only is that black drone seen at some point at all three crime scenes, but look at what else they caught…” he said as a media camera panned to show multiple vehicles behind the tape, giving them a clear shot of those who were there. “See this guy,” he said, pointing out someone with a hood up among the cars, holding a device in hand. “He’s not among the media, and if he was from the neighborhood, why would he be at all three crime scenes? One was in Saranac Lake, thirty minutes from High Peaks.”
“You think that’s a controller in his hands?”
Noah nodded.
McKenzie stared at the footage. Noah knew he’d hooked him.
