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mouth to speak but said nothing.
He motioned for Diane to proceed. He probably
thought the evidence so far was pretty weak, but he
leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. ‘‘We analyzed the substances on the cotton ball,’’
said Diane.
‘‘And these substances told the story?’’ said Rivers. Diane nodded. ‘‘One crease contained trace amounts
of corn syrup, cornstarch, carrageenan, L-cysteine, casein hydrolysate, traces of horse manure, and an
ample supply of Clostridium tetani , tetanus bacteria.
The most interesting of these being casein hydrolysate
and the horse manure—and the bacteria. The second
crease had trace amounts of the same substances but
also included Archer O’Riley’s blood, rohypnol, and
epithelials from Clymene and from her horse.’’ Rivers was frowning now. Diane wasn’t sure if it was from trying to understand the string of substances she had just rattled off or from a deep concern about
Clymene’s guilt.
‘‘Can you walk me through what all those things
mean?’’ he asked.
‘‘Corn syrup, cornstarch, carrageenan, L-cysteine,
and casein hydrolysate are ingredients in a baby formula,’’ said Diane.
Rivers raised his eyebrows.
‘‘Casein hydrolysate is a good medium for growing
tetanus. Horse manure is a good place to get the tetanus bacterium.’’
‘‘I see,’’ said Rivers. He stared down for a moment
at his hands, clasped in front of him on the table. Diane continued before he could say anything—like,
How did you connect this to Clymene?
‘‘There was baby formula in the house. O’Riley’s
son and his wife have a baby, but the baby’s mother
said she didn’t use that particular brand of formula.
Epithelials—skin cells—in the manure were matched
to Clymene’s own horse.’’
Rivers looked up at Diane. He looked tired and
surprised. ‘‘So what you are saying, if I read the evidence right, is that she cultured some tetanus bacteria,
gave her husband the date-rape drug rohypnol to
knock him out and keep him from remembering she
punctured him with a needle and squirted tetanus in
him.’’
‘‘Yes,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Add that to the fact that she
fabricated a false family history for herself, she never
gave us her true identity that could be verified, and
her previous husband died an untimely death, and you
can see why she was convicted.’’
He let out a deep breath. ‘‘I must say, I’m
disappointed.’’
Diane could see he was. She felt sorry for him. He
was a man wanting to believe in people who were
constantly disappointing him.
‘‘So am I,’’ she said. ‘‘Clymene is intelligent and
gifted. You can’t help but wonder what she might have
become if she had taken a different path in life.’’ ‘‘We’ll never know,’’ he said. ‘‘She tells people that
too much was made of her creative scrapbooking.
She’s never mentioned the cotton ball.’’
‘‘You know Clymene loves horses,’’ said Diane.
‘‘She went to a lot of trouble to make sure that hers
went to a good home. Yet she never made a scrapbook of her riding or of her horse.’’
Rivers looked at her, frowning, as if trying to understand what that had to do with anything.
‘‘The scrapbooks were just tools of her trade, part
of the con. Her horse and her riding were true loves
for her. She kept them out of the lie.’’
He nodded and stood. ‘‘I’m seeing the picture now.
Thanks for telling me.’’ He reached out and shook her
hand as she stood.
‘‘Thank you for speaking with me.’’ Diane wanted
to say she was sorry but felt anything she said might
be embarrassing to him. Clymene had won him over
before he had even realized it. Diane was more convinced than ever that Archer O’Riley wasn’t the only
person Clymene had killed. She was just too good at
her job to have done it only once.
Rivers walked her back to the gate, where she was
again let out of the maximum-security section. She
was glad to leave the prison and didn’t want