THEY DROVE OFF TO THEIR respective destinations. On the way to the criminalists’ lab, Moore’s phone urinated—literally. Sandoval, who was driving, heaved with laughter. ‘Seriously? You recorded yourself peeing and use it as your ringtone!?’
Moore answered the call with a mile-wide smile. ‘Moore.’
It was Cassandra with some new development. Moore listened, not daring to interrupt the forensic scientist. ‘Thanks,’ he said before hanging up.
‘What’s that about?’
‘It’s Cassandra in the lab. She said that Erica’s lung was full of dust, more than normal. There was an unhealthy amount of pollen and dust. She reckoned Erica was kept in a barn or a shed that had not been lived in for a long time, like a long-vacant place.’
‘But didn’t you make real estate enquiries and as far as they could tel
