Page 85 of The Smart Killer
“No, I’m good. I’ll be up all night if I do.”
“Sounds like you might be anyway,” Ray answered. “Speak to him. They say those in comas can still hear us,” he said before leaving.
Noah stared at his son, shaking his head ever so slightly. He understood he couldn’t watch his kids 24/7, but he still felt a sense of guilt for not speaking with him sooner. Being a parent was a balancing act between being overbearing and smothering or letting them do whatever they liked. “Hey, kid,” Noah said, squeezing his hand. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for so much.” He dipped his head. “For your mother and I. Not hearing you. Not being there when you needed me.” He went quiet. “Fight, Ethan. Fight with everything you have. Don’t leave us. Not now.”
He released his grip as Ray entered the room.
“Go home, Ray. Get some sleep. I’ll take over from here.”
Ray shook his head. “Not on your life. This is what family does. You’re working that case. Besides, Gretchen should be here to take over soon.”
“I thought dad was supposed to be coming in?”
“He might.”
“He hasn’t gone home, has he?”
“I told him to go to my place. Took a lot of convincing. He’s a stubborn old coot, but he agreed.”
Noah nodded. “Good.”
His phone jangled in his pocket. Noah got up and exited the room to take the call. The noise in the hospital was too loud, so he ducked into a vending machine room to answer it. It was Porter. “Hey, how’s your boy?”
Noah grunted.
Porter continued. “Just wanted to check in and let you know there has been no sign of our man. Search teams are still out there. I’m heading home. See you bright and early.”
“Yeah.”
“And Noah.”
“Uh-huh?”
“Thanks for not saying anything to Savannah.”
The gravel crunchedbeneath the tires as Noah pulled up in front of his cabin in the woods. The darkness of the night wrapped around the secluded haven, and the only sound that greeted him was the low hum of his car engine settling into silence. With its warm glow spilling through the windows, the cabin seemed like a sanctuary amid the woods.
As he parked, he saw Alicia’s Fish and Game warden truck parked in its familiar spot. The familiarity of having her there brought a sense of relief. The lights in Ed’s home next door were off, adding to the stillness in the air.
Exiting the Bronco, Noah glanced around, the shadows dancing with the rustling leaves in the gentle night breeze. The air held a crispness, carrying the scent of pine and the earthy fragrance of the woods. He could just see the silhouette of Whiteface Mountain peeking over the tips of the forest.
Search crews would have their work cut out for them.
He could hear a chopper in the distance doing the rounds, no doubt using thermal imaging cameras to try and observe the suspect. Was he nearby? Or still in the Plattsburgh area, hunkered down in a cabin or holed up in someone’s home, holding them at gunpoint? He had to wonder if Emmett would be found dead now that his face was out there and every cop in the state was looking for him.
As he entered the cabin, the hushed quiet surrounded him. The inside exuded a comforting silence, a stark contrast to the chaos and noise of the hospital. The living room, bathed inthe soft glow of muted lamps, held a sense of tranquility. The worn-out furniture spoke of countless moments shared, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of life.
The air was filled with a subtle combination of wood, leather, and the lingering aroma of a home-cooked meal. The quietude was broken only by the muffled sounds of nature outside — the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a nocturnal creature.
Noah moved with a weariness in his steps, a fatigue that mirrored the emotional toll of the day. In the kitchen, he found solace in the routine of reaching for a beer. The refrigerator light spilled across the linoleum floor as he surveyed its contents, contemplating the temporary escape that the cold drink would offer. However, the quiet resolve that showed in his eyes led him to reconsider. The beer went back into the fridge, and the door shut softly against the background hum of the appliance.
Back in the living room, shoes kicked off and coat removed, Noah went upstairs. The wooden steps creaked slightly, a familiar melody that echoed through the cabin. Before retiring for the evening, Noah checked in on Mia.
The soft glow of the hallway illuminated the way as he approached her room. The door was slightly ajar. The room was dark, with only the faint furniture outline visible. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Mia’s form beneath the covers, the rhythmical rise and fall of her breathing indicating peaceful slumber.
As Noah turned to leave, Mia’s voice, small but precise, broke the silence. “Dad. Is Ethan out of the coma?” Her concern echoed in the quiet room, reaching out like a thread connecting their hearts.
He paused in the doorway, the dim light casting a soft glow on Mia’s face as she sat up. “No change,” he replied, his tone carrying the weight of the uncertainty as he made his way in. Mia nodded, her eyes searching his face for reassurance.
