Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [70]
He strode forward, and Kimberly had to scramble to follow suit.
Five minutes later Mac rapped on a closed door bearing the nameplate Jennifer York. The door almost immediately opened up.
“Yes?” a young woman asked. Like Ray Lee Chee, she was dressed casually—khaki shorts, white scooped-collar shirt, and heavy-duty hiking boots.
Mac flashed a smile, and went to work. “Jennifer York, I presume? Special Agent Mac McCormack, ma’am. And this here is . . . Special Investigator Quincy. We were just asking your associate Ray Lee Chee some questions relevant to a case, and he highly recommended you as an expert in the field of geology.”
The woman blinked her eyes a few times. Her gaze had started on Mac’s face, but now had drifted to the broad expanse of his chest. “Special Agent? As in police?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re working on a special situation, a kidnapping, if you will. We have a few items from the scene—tree leaves, rocks, etc.—that we need to identify to help find the victim. Could we take a moment of your time? It sure would be a big help.”
Mac gave the woman one last charming smile, and she practically tripped over herself getting the door all the way open and inviting Mac inside. Briefly, she seemed to notice Kimberly was in tow, but then her gaze was all Mac all the time. Not that the man didn’t have a way with women.
Inside the office, Jennifer York’s workspace appeared very similar to Ray Lee Chee’s—a modest arrangement of overstuffed bookshelves, crammed filing cabinets, and a utilitarian desk. Now she stood with one hand lightly touching her desk and the other supporting her lower back, which she had arched in a not-so-subtle attempt to emphasize her breasts.
“So,” Kimberly spoke up curtly, finally earning York’s attention. “We were wondering if there is any connection between Hawaii and Virginia.”
“You mean the two states?”
“I believe they are states, yes. So are they related or what?”
The brunette stared at Kimberly a moment longer, then abruptly abandoned her feline pose, and took a seat in her desk chair. Now that they were on the subject of work, her expression had grown serious.
“Actually, from a geologist’s perspective there is quite a connection. We often compare the Blue Ridge Mountains in Shenandoah National Park with the Hawaiian Islands—both were partially formed by flows of basaltic lava. Essentially, one billion years ago, what we now call the Blue Ridge Mountains were actually the Grenville Mountains, which we believe may have stretched from Newfoundland to Texas and may have reached as high as the present-day Himalayas. This mountain range eroded over time, however, until by six hundred million years ago it was little more than a series of rolling hills. Then, however, we had the Catoctin volcanics.”
“A volcano?” Mac asked with surprise. “In Virginia?”
“More or less. A large rift opened up in the valley and basaltic magma from the earth’s mantle seeped to the surface, flooding the valley and forming the Catoctin Formation, which you can view in the northern section of the park.”
“The Catoctin Formation still exists?” Mac asked. “And its geology is similar to Hawaii’s?”
“Yes, the Catoctin Formation still exists,” Jennifer said, flashing him a warm smile. “The geology, however, isn’t exact. The basalts in Hawaii are black, while the rocks in the Shenandoah National Park are dark green. Basically, a process called metamorphism caused the basalts in Shenandoah to recrystallize with new minerals, such as chlorite, epidote, and albite, which help give the rocks their greenish hue. In fact, we no longer call the rocks in Shenandoah basalts, but metabasalts, due to this alteration.”
Mac turned toward Kimberly. She could read the question in his eyes. The victim had been found holding a rock. Had it been greenish in color? She couldn’t remember. They hadn’t gotten a good look at it and it had been one of the