“I’m not sure
how much Ms. Morten has shared with you, but—”
Kiera lifted a
finger; thankfully, her index. “Dr. Patty told us you had questions about
memory reading as it might apply to one of your cases. Read memories aren’t
admissible in court. You’re wasting your time.”
“I don’t need
evidence like that,” Dean said, deciding not to point out that Patty hadn’t
graduated yet and wasn’t, technically, a doctor.
“Whew,” the
blond he didn’t recognize said. “It’s one of the frustrating things about what
we do.” The memory surgeons all winced when she spoke, though the blond didn’t
appear to notice.
“What’s your
name?” he asked.
She beamed. “Amy
Carter.”
“Do you mind telling
me what’s your specialty?”
“Bitching and
complaining,” Kiera replied in a tight voice.
Amy’s lips
compressed, but she didn’t say anything. Was Kiera the group’s bully? Was that
how she controlled the narrative? Everyone looked to her, even Patty.
Kiera sighed.
“Dr. Schwartz is the expert in the field. Look into his research. Gilfoile and
Roberts are hacks, and the rest don’t know shit but still want to capitalize on
the memory-surgeon thing.”
He wrote down
“Schwartz” in his notebook, surprised at her generosity. “Thank you.”
She stared at
him with those blue eyes that didn’t blink enough. “That all?”
“Not quite.”
“Yeah, I
figured.” She shook her head. “They don’t fully understand how memory works, so
it’s going to be a while before they figure out how we’re able to access
people’s memories and how they can be removed and kept in someone else’s mind.
We can’t help you with the science stuff.”
“I’m more
interested in how it works from a practical standpoint.” He directed his
questions at everyone else, but the only one looking directly at him was Kiera.
Fine. If he won her over, the others would follow. “I’m trying to ascertain what
you can and can’t do.”
“Why?”
No time to
finesse. With his attention still on Kiera, he handed Brittany Kolchek’s
picture to Ramon and asked him to look and pass it on.
“I’ve never seen
her before,” Ramon said. “Is she missing?”
Dean waited
until everyone had viewed the photo, because he didn’t want to give them the
opportunity to refuse.
Beth looked
last, and she studied Brittany for several seconds. “She seems nice.” Then she
walked the photo back to him.
“Her name is
Brittany Kolchek,” he said. “She’s in a coma.” As a group, they cringed, even
Kiera. Good—they cared. “The doctors say she won’t wake.”
“You don’t want
information. You want one of us to jump into her memories,” Kiera said, her
face as hard as her voice.
“We believe she’s the third victim of a serial
killer targeting young women. All three scenes have little physical evidence.
This might be our only chance to catch a break.” When nobody spoke or moved, he
added, “He’ll kill again.”
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