Page 77 of The Smart Killer
“But why risk showing up?”
“To make sure he could collect it if his drone went down.”
“Why?”
“To avoid being tracked.”
“So, how did Alejandro meet this individual?”
Noah reached for the remote. “There was a case a few months back of a guy spying on his neighbor using a drone. What better way to connect with someone who doesn’t have access to the internet but likes to watch people than through a local drone group?” Noah hit a button and changed the screen to a flyer forthe Greater Adirondack Area Drones Meetup Group in Elizabethtown.“This group meets weekly to discuss and share drone flying experiences.”
“You think our guy met Alejandro through that group?”
Noah nodded. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“A part of Alejandro’s release conditions was not to have access to the internet, spyware, or technology that could let him re-offend. All footage recorded on a drone is held on an SD card in the drone. There is no need for the internet. Unless his drone goes down, who will question or even see a drone flying overhead?”
McKenzie asked, “So, Alejandro owned one?”
Noah nodded as he took out his phone and showed him an email of a white drone. “His mother confirmed it. Said he had one before he went away to jail. That he would attend these group meetings.”
“That’s why Alejandro ran the day Porter and I showed up there. I think he thought someone had figured out he was using a drone and had reported him.”
“But how does any of that help us?”
“Here’s the thing: any drone larger than your hand’s palm must have an FAA registration number. As drones are considered part of national airspace, there are measures taken before you can fly one. One of those measures is registering the drone and marking it with the registration number in case it spirals down. They have to be able to track it back to the owner. That registration number is linked to the owner’s name and address.”
“But our guy could have stolen one.”
“Yes, but…” Noah pointed to the video of the guy in the hood. “Then why show up? There would be no reason. If the drone went down it couldn’t be linked back to him. Unless of course, it can.”
McKenzie tapped his finger at Noah. “You know they take the brains of serial killers to study them. I think when you die, they should do the same with you as you just don’t think the same.”
“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” He grinned.
McKenzie stared at the video footage again. “So, we just have to wait until he strikes again and either nab this guy in the hoodie or shoot his drone down.” McKenzie shook his head, groaning as he glanced down at the magazine, absorbing the information.
Noah looked at his wristwatch.
“Maybe not. Grab your coffee, let’s go.”
26
The Cessna 17M glided smoothly through the upstate New York air, its wheels contacting the tarmac as it executed a precise landing. From their vantage point inside the waiting area at the Adirondack Aviation Academy, Noah and McKenzie observed the flurry of activity on the airfield beyond the expansive windows.
Planes dotted the landscape, silhouetted against the cloud-streaked sky. Cessnas stood side by side with Piper Warriors and Cherokee 160s, while a PA-28-180 added a touch of variety to the mix.
Mechanics moved about, diligently attending to aircraft maintenance, their tools clinking against metal, and the scent of aviation fuel wafted through the air, adding a distinct aroma to the atmosphere.
“He doesn’t know we are coming?”
“It’s better that way,” Noah said.
As the Cessna taxied toward the hangar, Noah noticed a lanky figure stepping out from the pilot’s seat. With a scruffy beard and long, braided hair, the man bore a striking resemblance to Willie Nelson. His aviator sunglasses shieldedhis eyes from the late afternoon sun as he ambled toward a nearby hangar.
McKenzie leaned in and whispered. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that’s him.”
