Circle of Blood (Forensic Mystery)

door wider. Light from the house brightened her mother’s curly hair. In Hannah’s outstretched hand she held a painting of an iris. “A gift,” she said, “for your house.”
    And Cameryn, her throat so tight she could barely get out the words, answered, “Welcome to our home.”

Chapter Eighteen
    Cameryn was happy. It had been a long time since she’d felt so content, so full up with every good emotion. Her mother had come to their home, and her father had stood up to greet her. Awkwardly, he’d thrust his hands in his pockets when she’d walked in. Rocking on his heels, he’d examined Hannah while Mammaw, smiling stiffly, had offered her their most comfortable chair.
    Hannah hadn’t stayed long. Just a brush, a contact point, and then she was gone. But after she left, Mammaw had looked at the painted iris a long time before she put it on top of the piano. “I’ll hang it in the morning,” she’d said. “Not tonight.”
    And all the while Cameryn had beamed.
    Now, stretching out on her bed, stomach down, she pulled her stuffed dog against her chest. There was no way to stop the memories that washed over her like an ocean at high tide. Her father, teaching her to fish, the line like a spider’s thread in the waters of the Animas; her mammaw sewing an old doll’s cloth arm while telling of her own Irish childhood in a brogue soft as a lullaby; the three of them huddled on the hard wooden pews of St. Patrick’s, where her father nodded off while Cameryn laughed and her grandmother poked a sharp elbow into his side. This was her family, her past and present.
    The future would soon add another thread. Her father had promised her that. Patrick, Hannah, Justin, her friends—they would weave their lives together into a new tapestry. It wouldn’t be like it was before, but every thread would be strong. A beautiful cloth.
    The soft ding of her computer brought her out of her thoughts. Someone had e-mailed her. Curious, she went to her desk and sat down, moving her mouse so that she could read her screen.
    It was from Jo Ann Whittaker.
    Dear Cameryn,
    I was pleased to hear that you had a part in solving yet another difficult forensic case. This is precisely why we at Colorado University are so interested in your application. I hate to nudge, but I’m at home and I was hoping to ask you a few questions concerning the original case that brought you to our attention. As I write this, it is almost nine o’clock—a bit late, I realize. But if you’re at your computer and available, I would like to clarify a few points. You are part of a presentation that I will give tomorrow.
    Typing quickly, Cameryn wrote:
    Hi Jo Ann,
    I am here, at my computer. Ask me anything you’d like. I’m sorry I didn’t fill out the form you sent, but I was very busy with the Jane Doe/Esther Childs case. I’ll wait here for your next e-mail.
    Cameryn
    A minute went by before she heard another ding.
    I am reviewing the case of Brad Oakes (the victim of Kyle O’Neil). It is an interesting study. I would like to ask you some specifics concerning your experience. The decedent, Brad Oakes, was microwaved in his bed by a klystron tube. How did the body present?
    Jo Ann
    The good feeling she’d experienced evaporated as she read the e-mail. Her teacher, Brad Oakes, had taught her to love poetry. It was still hard for her to think about his death, the way he’d looked. She remembered it too well— his eyes blown out of his skull, and his withered body, arms pulled up, still clutching his bedsheet. The memory made her recoil, made her heart beat faster. Maybe Justin was right. Maybe she did need counseling.
    Since she couldn’t write that to Jo Ann Whittaker, she typed instead:
    The body presented as though it had been burned, but burned from the inside out instead of the outside in. The internal organs near the head were cooked, while the organs lower down were not. I hope this is helpful.
    Cameryn
    She had already put on her pajamas when she heard another ding from her computer.
    Thank you for your timely response. Because I am presenting to my colleagues, I would like a more complete answer to that last question. In other words, what did the body feel like? When you put your hands inside the cadaver, what was the sensation? Did your hands press against his ribs? At what point were you aware that his heart had been cooked? I understand the eyes actually blew out from their orbs. Is that correct? And for reference, can you tell