“Where is this mine?” Kimberly said urgently.

“You mean mines, s as in plural, as in coal mines. We’re loaded with them.”

“Where?”

“Southwestern Virginia mostly. There’s a good seven counties, I think.” Knowles was looking at Ray for confirmation. “Let’s see… Dickenson, Lee, Russell, Scott. Hell, I’m never going to be able to do this off the top of my head; let me look ’ em up.” He pushed back toward his filing cabinet, gave Ray’s legs a prodding shove, then rifled through some manila files.

“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 the road.

“The leaf was easier,” Kimberly said shortly, as they walked down the hall.

“That was probably the point.” Mac pushed through the exterior door and led them back into the wall of heat. He glanced at his watch and Kimberly caught the gesture.

“Time?”

“Yep.” They got into his car and headed for the airport.

Richmond, Virginia

10:34 A . M .

Temperature: 94 degrees

KIMBERLY’S FIRST GLIMPSE OF NORA RAY WATTS was not what she had expected. In her mind, she had pictured a young, deeply traumatized girl. Head bowed, shoulders hunched. She would wear nondescript clothes, trying desperately to blend in, while her furtive gaze would dash around the crowded airport, already seeking the source of some unnamed threat.

They’d handle the girl with kid gloves. Buy her a Coke, pick her brain for what she claimed to know about the Eco-Killer, then send her back to the relative safety of Atlanta. That’s how these things were done, and frankly, they didn’t have time to dick around.

Nora Ray Watts, however, had another plan in mind.

She strode down the middle of the airport terminal, with an old flowered bag slung over her shoulder. Her head was up, her shoulders square. She wore a pair of slim-fitting jeans, a wispy blue shirt over a white tank top, and a pair of heavy-duty hiking boots. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she hadn’t a shred of makeup on her face. She headed straight for them, and the other travelers immediately gave way.

Kimberly had two impressions at once. A young girl, grown up too fast, and a remote woman who now existed as an island in the sea of humanity. Then Kimberly wondered, with almost a sense of panic, if that’s what people saw when they peered into her own face.

Nora Ray walked up and Kimberly looked away.

“Special Agent McCormack,” she said gravely and shook Mac’s outstretched hand.

He introduced Kimberly, and Nora Ray took her hand as well. The girl’s grip was firm, but quick. Someone who didn’t like touching.

“How was the flight?” Mac asked.

“Fine.”

“How are your parents?”

“Fine.”

“Uh huh. And what kind of story did you feed them about today?”

Nora Ray brought her chin up. “I told them I was going to spend a few days with an old college classmate in Atlanta. My father was happy I was going to see a friend. My mother was busy watching Family Ties.”

“Lying’s not good for the soul, little girl.”

“No. And neither is fear. Shall we?”

She headed toward the food court, while Mac arched a brow.

“She’s not your typical victim,” Kimberly murmured as they fell in step behind the girl. Mac merely shrugged.

“She has a good family. Least she did before this.”

In the food court, Mac and Kimberly got large cups of bitter coffee. Nora Ray purchased a soda and a banana muffin, which she then proceeded to pick at with her fingers as they sat at a small plastic table.

Mac didn’t ask anything right away. Kimberly, too, took her time. Sipping the foul-tasting brew, looking around the Richmond airport as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Nothing better to do than sit around in air-conditioned glory. Nothing more urgent today than getting that perfect cup of coffee. If only her heart hadn’t been beating so hard in her chest. If only they all hadn’t been so unbearably aware of the fleeting nature of time.