Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [119]
“How big is the area?” Kimberly pressed him.
Knowles shrugged, then looked again at Ray. “Most of the southwestern corner of the state,” Ray offered up. “It’s not small, if that’s what you mean.”
“But the water probably came from there,” Mac asserted.
“I will not say that,” Knowles warned him. “Sample too small, results too subjective, too many variables beyond my control.”
“But it is a strong possibility.”
“If you accept that reading of three-point-eight to be correct, then yes, a mine would be a good place to look for this kind of contaminated water supply. The only other possible theory . . .” He stopped, chewed on his lower lip. “It’s gotta be contamination of some kind,” he muttered at last. “That’s the only thing that could reduce the pH level so dramatically. Now, it could be from a mine. It could also be pollution from organic wastes. Basically, a large dose of biodegradable organic material gets in the water. Bacteria feed off the waste, bacterial population explodes, and now the bacteria consume oxygen faster than the algae or aquatic plants can replace it. Badda bing, badda boom: anything that needs oxygen to live—say, fish, insects, plants—dies, and anaerobic bacteria take over the water source; they’re about the only thing that can live at pH that low.”
“But you can’t test it for bacteria, can you?” Kimberly quizzed him.
“Nah, sample’s too small.”
“Is . . . is there anything else you can do?”
“Well, I could try testing for minerals. We got a guy around here who’s been squeezing water out of core samples going back thousands of years and running that stuff through the equipment. I know those water samples have gotta be small, but he’s gotten some results. I don’t know how good—”
“We’ll take anything,” Mac interrupted him.
“It’s very important,” Kimberly reiterated. “We need to narrow down this water to the smallest geographic region possible. Seven counties is a start, but seven miles would be better.”
“Seven miles huh?” Knowles gave her a doubtful look. “Even if I did get lucky and identify a bunch of minerals . . . Well,” he caught himself. “Then again, there are some key physiographic differences among the mine counties. A lot of sandstone and shale in some areas. Karst in others. So mineral results might help. Not seven miles, mind you, but I might be able to get you down to a county or two. I guess we’ll find out.”
“How long?” Mac pressed him.
“First I’m going to have to talk to the guy, figure out how to set up the equipment . . . I’d say give me a couple of days.”
“I’ll give you two hours.”
“Say what?”
“Listen to me. Two women are missing. It’s been nearly forty-eight hours now, and one woman is somewhere around that water. We either find her soon, or it won’t much matter anymore.”
Knowles’s mouth was ajar. He looked pale and troubled at the news, then glanced at the tiny sample with a fresh distrust. “All right,” he said abruptly. “Give me two hours.”
“One last item.” Mac’s attention went to Ray Lee Chee. “We have one more sample we need tested. Problem is, we don’t know what it is.”
He held out the glass vial bearing the residue from the second victim’s hair. Ray took it first, then handed it over to Knowles. Neither man knew what it was, but decided a palynologist would be their best bet—an expert in pollen. And they were in luck. One of the best in the state, Lloyd Armitage, was due in this afternoon for a team meeting.
“Anything else?” Ray asked.
“Rice,” Kimberly said. “Uncooked long grain. Does that mean anything to either of you?”
That brought a fresh round of bemused looks. Knowles confessed he was a pasta man. Ray Lee Chee said he’d always hated to cook. But hey, they’d ask around.
And that was that. Knowles would attempt to test their water for mineral samples; Ray would inquire about rice; and Mac and Kimberly would hit