The Dying Breath (17 page)

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Authors: Alane Ferguson

BOOK: The Dying Breath
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“When I wasn’t looking, you grew up on me,” said her father. “It happened and I didn’t even see it.”
“Yeah, well, a couple of death threats will do that.”
“This isn’t funny, Cameryn. This whole thing is surreal. We’re sitting here, going over evidence left by a killer, and you’re so . . . mature. How are you doing it?”
“I guess it’s the Irish in me. I mean, we’re tough, don’t you think? And it’s not like you haven’t changed, Dad. Look at you, all fancy now.”
“You’re not a girl anymore, are you.” The way he said it made it a statement, not a question.
How was she supposed to answer that? “But that’s a good thing, right? If you do your job right then I
should
grow. I mean, life’s different for both of us; Mom’s back in New York and you’ve got Amy now. And I’ve got Justin. Everything keeps moving and changing, like it’s supposed to.”
He seemed to think about this. “Your mammaw always said it’s our job to grow. She said we water our family with love.”
At that moment Dr. Moore came in holding the reports in his hand. Without looking up he said, “There’s cocaine in all of their systems, but not enough to be even near a lethal dose. . . .” He stopped, registering Cameryn’s expression, which had frozen into place. “What’s going on?” Dr. Moore asked. “Miss Mahoney, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Grow. Water.
The words reverberated in her mind. She felt her eyes grow wide as the pieces snapped into place, the mosaic no longer scrambled but reassembled into a discernible pattern. Could the answer be something so easy, yet as deadly as that? It was so simple, really. In that instant she knew she had the answer. It had been staring her in the face all along.
“That’s it. Water. It’s the water!” She could feel her hands begin to shake as she looked at the photograph in her hands.
Her father looked at her, confused. Dr. Moore, too, frowned in disbelief. “I fail to understand . . .” Dr. Moore began, but Cameryn cut him off. Waving the picture, she said, “Look at that plant! It’s blooming—its petals opening without having been watered. You said Leather Ed sat there for three weeks, right? That’s three weeks without water. Those plants should have withered. All of the plants in that house should have died, including the marijuana. But they
didn’t
. And the book—the book Leather Ed is holding says
polymer crystals
. You know—
polymer
crystals! They’re used for plant hydration.”
Patrick shook his head, confused. “I’m sorry, you’re saying you figured this out because of what was in the water? I—I don’t understand.”
“No, Dad! It’s because of what was in the
soil.
”
Dr. Moore grabbed the photograph out of her hand. She could see the glint of understanding in his eyes. “It’s possible, Miss Mahoney. More than possible. And it would explain everything,” he said so loud he was practically shouting. “The texture, the gel, I’ve seen it but I never made the connection. Of course, cocaine is inhaled, so that would give a reason as to how it got into the lungs.” He was talking fast now, his words rapid-fire. “All three had low levels of cocaine in their blood, so all three inhaled a substance. If the drug was cut with the polymer then it would expand instantly in the lungs, pulling water from their own tissue. They would drown in their own body fluid.”
“And if Leather Ed was dealing, it would explain how it got to Safer and Stein,” Cameryn said, addressing her comments only to him. “The gel would coat the alveoli—”
“—causing instant suffocation,” Moore announced. “That is exactly how they presented in death. All three men.”
“Will one of you two slow down and tell me what is going on?” Patrick cried.
But this was a moment that was for just the two of them, for Dr. Moore and Cameryn. She could feel the invisible thread wind around them both again, pulling them together, tighter, like a filament alive with the electricity of shared knowledge.
“Of course, the next step is to get a control sample and run it through the gas chromatograph. That’s when we’ll know for certain.” Moore looked at her, beaming, with triumph in his eyes. “But I’m putting my money on you, Miss Mahoney. You’re not just my protégée,” he said. “You’re my legacy.”
Chapter Thirteen
“LUCKY GUESS,” JUSTIN
teased her from her kitchen doorway. “Unbelievably lucky guess.”
“No,” Cameryn said, yawning, “I’m a genius. Mammaw says so.”
“I do indeed,” said her grandmother. “Here, Justin, let me take your coat. And have a seat. There’s fresh coffee and a pound cake, or if you’d like I can make you breakfast, although it’s past ten. Herself there just barely got up. And oh, those flowers are lovely—I’ll put them in water for Cammie.”
Justin, who held a large bouquet of pink and red roses, broke the bundle in two. “These,” he said, holding out the pink ones, “are for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Her grandmother smiled, like sunshine bursting. “Why, isn’t that something! Flowers for me. It’s been years . . . but you shouldn’t be spending your money on such things. It’s an extravagance, especially roses. Never do such a thing again.” From her grandmother’s expression Cameryn knew she didn’t mean it. Wearing a red jogging suit that zipped up to her chin, Mammaw moved lightly in her slippers. From a cupboard beneath the sink she produced two vases, a clear one and one that looked like green marble. “Which would you like, Cammie?” she asked.
“The clear.”
“Perfect. I prefer the green.” Immediately Mammaw began to snip the bottoms of the stems with kitchen shears. Justin was watching her closely. When her back was turned he swooped down and gave Cameryn a kiss on her mouth.
His skin was still cool from being outside, but his lips were warm against hers. She wanted him to linger but he pulled away, whispering “Later” so softly she was sure Mammaw couldn’t hear. The second bundle, which had been thrust behind his back, suddenly reappeared, and Cameryn could tell right away they were the expensive kind. A thick rose fragrance emanated from every bloom, and, wrapped in cellophane sprinkled with pink hearts, this bundle was twice as big as the one he’d given Mammaw. He dropped into the kitchen chair next to her. “It’s a lucky break that Valentine’s Day is a Saturday this year, because I’m off duty. And I’ve made plans.” His eyes looked green in the morning light.
“Thank you so much for these,” Cameryn replied, drinking in the fragrance. “But—what kind of plans? I’m supposed to stay in the house. I was only let out yesterday because I was with my dad.”
“Let’s just say I got clearance. Nice jammies, by the way. Penguins?” One dark eyebrow rose on his forehead.
“I like penguins,” Cameryn answered, suddenly aware of how non-Valentine she looked in her blue flannel bottoms and knit top. “Lyric gave these to me for Christmas. And if you would have called first I would have taken a shower and gotten myself pulled together. You drop by, this is what you get.”
“I wasn’t complaining.” He was out of uniform, in jeans and a Broncos sweatshirt, and he seemed both amused and happy. “You wear penguins better than anyone. And I like your hair down like that. It’s so long, almost like a waterfall.” Reaching out, he touched her hair, but her grandmother looked over her shoulder and Justin quickly withdrew his hand.
“Thanks. That was a very Valentiney thing to say,” Cameryn whispered.
“I would like to say more,” he whispered back. “Alone.”
“Did you say you wanted coffee, Justin?” asked Mammaw.
“Yes, thanks. Anyway, before I get too off track, I want to tell you how amazed everyone is with Cammie’s mind.” Clasping his hands together, he placed them behind his neck and leaned back, balancing on the chair’s back legs, something she was never allowed to do. But if her grandmother noticed she didn’t say a word as she set a red mug filled with coffee onto the heart-shaped place mat before she bustled back to the sink and her roses.
“Amber says Cameryn is a savant and Jacobs wants you to ditch forensics and go into law.”
Cameryn felt herself beam. “So they got a match!”
“Yep. The gas chromatograph results came back a total hit. Looks like Leather Ed did a bit of business in Telluride, which is where Safer and Stein must have scored their bags. It’s already been on the news, so hopefully users will toss their drugs. Who knows how many of those things were tainted?”
“Gas chroma—what?” her grandmother asked. Turning from the counter with a rose poised in her hand, she waved it like a baton. “I have to confess I’m still not clear at all on what happened last night. Patrick tried to explain before he left, but I’m not sure even he understands. So please, speak slow and use small words.”
Justin glanced at Cameryn, his eyes twinkling. “Basically, your granddaughter looked at the pictures of the crime scene and put the pieces together.”
“Part of the credit goes to you, Mammaw,” Cameryn interrupted. “I remembered how you put those polymer crystals in the soil, you know, so the dirt would hold on to the water longer. You used them in your flower boxes.”
“Yes, those crystals are quite the thing,” her grandmother agreed. The rose now wagged in her hand, the bloom bouncing like the head of a doll on a spring. “The church did a craft project using jelly jars—we put food coloring, fragrance, water, and crystals all together and sold them at the fair. Remember?”
“No,” Cameryn said. She made it a point to avoid craft fair projects with her grandmother.
“Well, I’m not surprised, it was years ago. The thing that amazed me was that one little teaspoon of the crystals would soak up enough water to fill the entire jar. A crystal smaller than a pea would swell to the size of an ice cube. So . . .” She jabbed the rose into the vase. “Let me tell you what I know from your father. I understand that Kyle ground the crystals into a powder. I also understand that he cut that powder into Leather Ed’s cocaine. Poor, lost soul, I never knew he was into such things,” she muttered, sticking three more roses in to make a pink halo. “But what I don’t understand is how you, Cammie, figured it out. How did you do it, girl?”
“It’s not that big of a deal—I just noticed the plants didn’t die,” Cameryn said simply. “And the book—”
“That part was
amazing
.” The chair came down with a thud as Justin broke into an even wider grin. “The book was opened to the page that talked about putting polymer into soil. Cammie noticed it when none of us did. Kyle left us a clue but we missed it. Cameryn didn’t.”
“And the gas—thingamajig. What is that?” Her grandmother frowned.
“Gas chromatograph—that’s a machine that tells what a substance is made of. The guys in the lab had already run a sample from all three of our vics’ lungs, but here’s the thing: the result came back as
unknown.
There was no match in the system. Moore said it would have taken weeks, maybe months, to figure out what the jelly stuff was, because there was nothing in the database to compare it to. But once they put the polymer crystals in the test tube they got a perfect hit. All thanks to your granddaughter.”
“She’s a wonder, that one,” her grandmother agreed. “Would you like me to put your roses in a vase?” she asked, and Cameryn quickly agreed. She had other plans that included Justin, away from her mammaw’s prying eyes.
“Um, Mammaw, can I show Justin something I made him? It’s in my room.”
“What? Of course,” her grandmother agreed. “Leave your door open,” trailed after her as Cameryn pulled Justin upstairs, glad she’d at least brushed her teeth. They were barely inside her doorway when he turned her around, pressing her back into her wall as he kissed her, and Cameryn almost giggled at first because he was so daring, before the laughter died and her thoughts once again turned blurry at the edges.
That was the power he’d taught her—to choose which trail she would mentally follow. Kyle, the horrible murders, the polymers, all were pushed back into the furthest places of her mind and she would choose this joy, this sensation that obliterated the dark. It was Valentine’s Day, and Justin had brought her roses, and a kind of bubbly happiness fizzed inside her with its own effervescence. She wanted to wrap herself inside this good feeling. For a moment he broke free, leaning away so he could look her in the eye, but she pursued him. Bouncing onto the tips of her toes, she pulled him back and kissed him again, noting the slightly abrasive feel of his unshaved skin against her lips. Then he was hugging her, laughing softly as she clung to him.
“Excuse me, Justin, what is so funny?”
He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Because I have studied body language—I know what people do when they’re lying, and you just told a whopper to your mammaw.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Then what did you ‘make’ me?” He made a pretense of looking around the room.
“Okay, I didn’t actually
make
you anything,” she admitted. “I
was
going to get you something but then things got all crazy and I didn’t get a chance. So I confess, I wanted to get you alone. Lying is a venial sin, not a mortal one, right? Believe it or not, I’m not sure anymore.”
“It’s a venial sin.”

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