Page 69 of Identity Unknown

“I didn’t know, and how terrible,” I reply.

“You know how Fabian is. He figured way back then that he should have prevented it somehow.”

“I understand better than you might imagine,” I answer. “What do you have for me, Faye?”

“You’ll get the official report soon enough, but I happen toknow from Lee about the gunshot residue,” she says. “I assume you’d like to hear the results right away? As long as you don’t tell him I told you.”

The fritters are golden brown, and I place them on a paper-towel-covered plate as Faye explains what happened late yesterday. She says that trace evidence examiner Lee Fishburne analyzed samples with scanning electron microscopy and spectroscopy. The gunshot residue (GSR) swabs from Luna Briley’s hands are negative.

“As are ones taken from hair and skin around the entrance wound,” Faye informs me. “And her pajama top is negative. But there’s other stuff on it that Lee says is unexpected and inexplicable. I can give you the upshot unofficially…?”

“Please.” I tear open packets of honey.

“When I walked into his lab, he was analyzing these strange particles that were on Luna Briley’s pajama top. I could see them on the video displays, the magnification 500X. They brought to mind microscopic asteroids with chunks of shiny metal attached.”

“And their composition?” I arrange pieces of chicken on buttered biscuit halves, dribbling honey over them.

“Made mostly of silica but also magnesium, aluminum, iron and other elements,” she replies.

“Sounds a lot like dirt,” I reply, and I wouldn’t have been aware of it.

I didn’t examine Luna’s pajamas. When I removed them from her body, they were air-dried in the evidence room. Thenthey were delivered upstairs to the trace evidence lab for Lee to go over thoroughly.

“Lee has an idea what it might be but won’t say until it’s confirmed by some expert he contacted,” Faye explains. “He told me that when he went over the pajamas with a UV light, the particles fluoresced cobalt blue,” she adds to my amazement. “So, what is the stuff and how did it get on her?”

“Her pajamas aren’t the only place a sparkling residue like that has shown up,” I reply, thinking of the dust lighting up all over Sal’s body.

Then images of the Oz theme park flash in my mind. I envision the candy-coated peanuts I recovered from Luna’s stomach, and those in the bin at Briley Flight Services. It’s as if I’m walking into a spiderweb of threads and connections I feel but can’t follow.

“I plan to start doing test fires this morning for distance and trajectory,” Faye tells me as I turn off the toaster oven.

“Who else knows about the trace evidence besides Lee, you, Fabian?” Collecting napkins, I take the plastic tray out from under the empty ice bucket.

“I can’t say for sure. Fabian and I aren’t talking about it with anyone but each other.”

“What about Blaise Fruge?”

“It wouldn’t be up to me to tell her,” Faye replies, and she’s right about that.

Moments later, I’m carrying the breakfast tray into the bedroom, and by now Benton is sitting up under the covers. He’s wedged two pillows behind his back, looking at his phone, his face illuminated in the near dark. I set a coffee and his plateon the table next to him, explaining what I just learned from Fabian and Faye.

“I agree it’s curious about the fluorescing residue.” He cuts a fritter with his fork, taking a bite. “Damn that’s good.” He takes another hungry bite. “We don’t know for a fact that the sparkling residue on Luna Briley’s pajamas and Sal’s body is the same thing. I’m suspicious just like you are, but we don’t have enough information yet.”

“Whatever’s fluorescing cobalt blue is very unusual.” I settle on the bed, my plate in my lap. “Everything we’re finding out certainly makes me wonder what Ryder Briley is involved in. And we can be sure there will be hell to pay when I decide his daughter’s death is a homicide.”

“When do you think that will happen?” Benton reaches for his coffee as I devour my biscuit.

“If Faye’s test fires tell us what I think they will, then I’ll rule on the manner of death.” Paper crinkles as I wipe my hands with a napkin. “I’ll decide it’s a homicide, and the police will have to investigate the parents and anyone else who might have been on the property at the time Luna was shot.”

When Benton and I are finished eating, we set our plates on the bedside tables, the rising sun bright around the edges of the draperies. Fighter jets are screaming overhead again, and I don’t intend to let him get up just yet. We’re not done communicating in the important ways, and I lean against him, lacing my fingers in his.

“While we have a private moment, talk to me. Are you all right?” I ask him. “Because I don’t think you are no matter how good you are at pretending.”

I know what’s bothering him and that he needs to say it. I move closer, resting my head on his chest.

“I’m okay.”

“That’s not good enough.” I hear the thumping of his heart, his skin warm beneath my cheek.