Page 92 of The Smart Killer
Noah’s gaze roamed, landing on a sleek flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, a modern contrast to the eclectic surroundings. It was as if the screen provided a portal to another world, a respite from the complexities of reality.
“You painted these?” he inquired, his eyes lingering on the captivating canvases that took up most of the wall.
“Not much else to do when you are suspended,” Callie responded with a casual shrug, her voice carrying a tinge of resignation.
“I hear you there,” Noah acknowledged a shared understanding passing between them. After he destroyed a video camera, their camaraderie deepened as they exchanged tales of their rebellion — Sheriff Rivera’s disapproval and Savannah’s stern gaze.
“You too?” Callie chuckled as she popped the cork from the wine bottle. “What a pair we are,” she mused, acknowledging their unconventional alliance.
“Trust me, if it hadn’t been you, I would have been rushing in there.”
Noah’s mind circled through the recent events as Callie returned with two glasses. The air hung heavy with unspoken condolences as she addressed the tragedy that had befallen Alicia.
“I heard about Alicia. I’m really sorry, Noah,” she said, her words carrying a genuine sense of empathy.
“Sign up to be a cop. Help your community. Make a difference,” he said. “They don’t tell you about these moments.”
She leaned forward. “No. No, they don’t.”
There was another pause.
Noah gulped down the pain and sought solace in the depth of his wine glass. The conversation shifted to the aftermath of the case. “So, what was the outcome?” she asked.
Noah set his glass down and leaned back in the armchair. “Emmett is in the court system. He’ll go away for life. He claimed that Michael Taylor stole his patents for the smart home system, though, because he never applied for the patent, it’s pretty much he said, he said. It’s a real Edison vs. Tesla kind of deal. However, the more you look into Taylor’s background, the more you can see he wasn’t the brains behind it. A savvy businessman? Yeah. An inventor? No.”
Callie took another drink.
Noah continued, “Though I guess you could say Emmett achieved what he set out to do. The backlash, the exposure from the deaths, has lawyers talking about a class action lawsuit and a drop in those buying his homes. I drove through the neighborhoods yesterday, and there were several For Sale signs. Seems folks don’t want to be there anymore. I give him three months before the whole company goes under, or he offs himself.”
“And the families? My sister?” she asked.
“Collateral damage, unfortunately.”
Callie looked away. “Adam came by the other day to extend his apologies. He was beating himself up over it all, but he had no way to know what would happen. If anyone has suffered, it’s him. A girlfriend, two kids, and a brother.” Callie studied Noah’s response. “By the way, how is Ethan?” she asked.
Noah’s face lit up, his eyebrows rising. “That’s right. I forgot to tell you. He’s out of the coma and on the mend. He and I had a long chat a couple of days ago. I felt like I connected with him for the first time in a long time. I just listened.”
Callie smiled. “Sometimes that’s all that is required,” she remarked, a simple truth echoing in the space between them.
A rhythmic knock on the door echoed through the apartment, drawing Callie’s frown and Noah’s curious gaze. “Expecting someone?” he asked, glancing toward the unseen doorway.
She shrugged, a hint of uncertainty in her expression as she rose to answer the door. From his vantage point in the living room, Noah couldn’t witness the interaction, but he could hear the exchange — an uncanny repetition of their initial gathering but now drenched in a thick Scottish accent. A few moments later, Angus McKenzie stepped into view, dressed to the nines, a mischievous grin playing on his face.
“Aye. Great minds think alike. Not interrupting anything, am I?” Angus quipped.
To which Callie replied casually, “No. Go make yourself comfortable.”
McKenzie ambled into the room with a sense of ease as he took a seat across from Noah. His eyes held a glint, a sly smile dancing at the corners of his lips as he settled into the armchair.
Seated in silence for a moment, McKenzie leaned forward, breaking the quiet with a whispered inquiry. “What wine did you bring?”
Noah, momentarily caught off guard, stammered, “Huh?”
McKenzie pressed on, his Scottish accent adding a touch of charm. “Wine, laddie. What wine did you bring with you?”
Noah’s gaze wandered toward the kitchen, where Callie was busy. “White Pinot Grigio. It’s her favorite.”
McKenzie snapped his fingers in front of Noah, a sudden realization dawning. “Damn it! I bought the wrong one. That silly idiot down at the liquor store confused the hell out of me. He said he couldn’t understand my accent.”
