The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery

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