Page 83 of Identity Unknown
“Are there companies in Virginia that make things out of solar cells?” I ask while speeding past a veterans’ cemetery, the perfect rows of white headstones reminding me of teeth.
“Not many but some,” the trace evidence examiner says.
“I’m wondering if perovskite might be mined anywhere around here. If so, that could explain finding traces of the real mineral.” I can’t stop thinking about Sal’s mysterious trips to Weyers Cave.
He was a free spirit but not given to reckless impulsivity. Heoften told me that our summer romance was the most impetuous thing he ever did. He thought long and hard about most things, and if he stopped somewhere on his way to Green Bank, it was purposeful. If he periodically visited Weyers Cave, it was calculated.
“Based on what I’ve been reading, perovskite occurs naturally in the mountains where volcanic activity went on hundreds of millions of years ago,” Lee is saying. “As the lava cools, it forms igneous or volcanic rocks, which is where perovskite is found.”
“From fire and brimstone. That figures somehow.” It’s not easy taking notes as Tron drives like Formula One. “Where might we find volcanic rocks around here? Assuming the possibility that perovskite is mined locally?”
“The Appalachian Mountains for sure.” Lee talks slowly and with a drawl that belies his facile intelligence. “Most perovskite is mined in Russia. Also Sweden and Mount Vesuvius, Italy. And Magnet Cove, Arkansas. I’m not aware of any actual mines in this part of the world. But there could be.”
“I’ll make sure the Secret Service has the latest update, and we’ll keep this between us, Lee,” I tell him. “Whoever left nanograins of perovskite and fake moon dust may not be aware of it.”
Carrie.
“That tends to be what happens when it’s something you can’t see with the naked eye,” he replies. “People don’t think about what they’re carrying around on their skin, their clothing, in their hair, leaving traces on everything they brush up against and touch.”
“Carrie would think about it,” Lucy says when I end the call as we pass through Hampton. “She understands about trace evidence and how it’s transferred from one thing to the next.”
“We can assume she knows a lot of the same things that we know.” I look out at the Walmart Supercenter where my Norfolk office has an expense account.
“In some instances, more than we know.” Lucy’s tone hints of the deep-seated respect that she still has for her former mentor and lover.
It’s like one world-class competitor admiring another at the same time they want to destroy each other. But what Carrie does isn’t a sport, and it drives me mad when I detect the pilot light burning inside my niece. What they once had with each other isn’t entirely gone.
“As long as she keeps herself under control, there’s not much she can’t master and figure out,” Lucy is saying.
“It would be foolish to underestimate someone like her,” Tron agrees.
“There isn’t anyone like her,” I reply with an edge. “And yes, it would be foolish.”
The muscle car roars past the Virginia Air & Space Science Center, the soaring glass entrance reminding me of the cartoonThe Jetsons. We have our windows partially opened and the air-conditioning off. I’m dryer than I was but the padding in my bike shorts is uncomfortably damp and squishy.
“Carrie might be decompensating,” Lucy says. “It’s happened before. And she crashes and burns.”
“Usually not before she’s done something hideous,” I reply.
“Being cavalier about trace evidence that might be on yourperson isn’t like her.” Lucy glances back at me as we’re talking. “She’s making mistakes.”
“Possibly,” I reply. “But I can understand not being aware of nanograins of dust clinging to her body and clothing. Especially if she’s in and out of an environment where she’s exposed regularly. People can get lax about PPE. They might wear a mask and gloves but not the rest of it. They think if they’re passing through a room or not staying long, they don’t need to bother. Or they’ll reuse Tyvek that’s become contaminated.”
“Assuming Carrie’s the one leaving the microscopic residues? I’m guessing she doesn’t care.” Tron glances at me in the rearview mirror as she drives like the proverbial bat out of hell.
Her face is unusually solemn. I can tell she’s not entirely comfortable with the conversation.
“She wouldn’t want to leave something unintentionally,” Lucy repeats. “That’s what I mean about her decompensating. When she does, she takes bigger risks and can be careless.”
“I’m not sure she gives a damn about leaving evidence.” Tron says the same thing Benton did as she blasts past a slow driver. “She figures we’ll never catch her.” A spike of hostility. “We don’t even know where she is right now.”
“Around here somewhere,” Lucy says. “Or she was. Assuming she’s involved in Sal Giordano’s abduction and death.”
“She’d be naïve to think she can duck the police forever,” I reply. “Especially in rural areas around here where she’d stand out.”
“She’s spent a lot of time in Virginia,” Tron says. “She knows her way around, and I suspect she can blend when it suits her.”
“If she’s the one leaving the trace evidence, then we also have some idea where she’s been,” Lucy adds. “Which is wherever Sal was held hostage. And maybe Carrie was around the Brileys, even inside their house. Maybe she had contact with Luna, explaining the sparkling residue on her pajamas.”