Never Tell (Detective D.D. Warren #10)(63)

“But there are other issues with memory recovery techniques,” D.D. stated now. “To keep with your analogy, it’s not enough for the data to be present. There’s the small matter of extracting it without corrupting it with other information—the power of suggestion.”

“I wouldn’t do hypnosis,” Flora said immediately. “I’ve been doing some research and that’s my least favorite option.”

D.D. and Quincy both eyed the woman.

“I would prefer a visualization exercise, grounded in known triggers.”

“I’ll bite,” D.D. said. “What?”

“Smell is the strongest known trigger for memory. Therefore, some experts suggest starting a visualization exercise with what the subject knows to be true about the episode: say, the smell of urine-soaked pine wood.” Again, the woman didn’t flinch. “The taste of blood on my tongue. The feel of a sliver in my finger.”

It took D.D. a moment to get it; then she wished she hadn’t. “You’re talking about sticking yourself back in the coffin? Re-creating your own captivity, for the sake of a memory?”

Flora stared at her. Very gaunt now, D.D. saw. Very dark shadows under her eyes. “I think it’s worth trying.”

“And Dr. Keynes—”

“It’s my decision!”

“I’ll take that to be a no.” D.D. turned to Quincy. “Did you know about this?”

“No,” the agent said immediately. “And to be honest, I don’t agree with it. Re-creating trauma, particularly of that nature, risks sending you down the rabbit hole all over again. The psychological impact on you, where this might lead. It’s not a good idea.”

“We need to find where Jacob lived—”

“Not at the expense of your mental health,” D.D. snapped. “He took enough from you. Don’t give him any more.”

“This is my choice. This is me fighting back!”

“This is you sacrificing yourself. First you wouldn’t talk about anything, now you’re risking a complete meltdown. You do realize there are options in between, don’t you?”

“Such as?”

“Forget coffins for a second. For the sake of argument, we can try out your technique but go after a memory that’s much less traumatic. How about the night Jacob met Conrad? You described it as a dive bar. You said you ate and ate. Nachos, chicken wings, beer? Country music on the radio, maybe you know a particular song? If you’re going to use your five senses to attempt to trigger a memory, I think beer, hot wings, and country songs are a much safer place to start. With the assistance of Dr. Keynes, of course. Because this is way out of my league, and yours, too.” D.D. gestured to SSA Quincy.

“You want more information on Conrad Carter,” the federal agent filled in.

“That is the point of my investigation. But for the record, we made an interesting discovery today: Conrad Carter had hidden away half a dozen fake IDs. Not great ones, but good enough to get into a bar.”

“You think he used the IDs as an alias when he traveled,” Quincy stated. “Including when he met up with Jacob Ness.”

“If Flora could remember what name Jacob called him, that would confirm our suspicions. But also, what exactly did they talk about, did any other names come up? You want to find Jacob’s secret clubhouse—fair enough. But maybe the other way of coming after Jacob Ness is to identify the other members of the club. Especially if some of them are still alive …”

“They might be able to provide information on Ness, including his cabin hideaway.” Keith Edgar spoke up.

“Based on what SSA Quincy is saying, they were probably the ones who gave Jacob the pointers on how to keep it hidden.” D.D. looked at Flora. “What do you think?”

The woman frowned. “I don’t know. I was drinking heavily that night. Meaning, the quality of the data recorded …”

“At a certain point you were drunk. Drunks have notoriously lousy memories.”

“But I don’t remember Jacob calling him Conrad. I think it might have been another name. And that was in the beginning. Maybe there is more I saw, or noticed, than I think. If Jacob had help—and it seems like he must’ve—then, yes, I’d like to go after those men, too.”

“Not just one predator, but a whole network of them.” Keith Edgar sounded slightly breathless.

D.D. frowned at him. “Not so fast, big boy. This is an active criminal case. Civilians need not apply.”

“He’s not just a civilian.” Flora spoke up quickly. “He’s an expert on Jacob in his own right.”

“Hey.” Quincy tapped the table. “I believe the FBI wears that crown.”

“I’m not doing it,” Flora said, “if he’s not around.”

D.D. stared at her CI. Yep, Flora had definitely gone rogue. And was possibly love-struck? Except that didn’t fit with the Flora she knew at all. Meaning …

More and more questions. Where would D.D.’s case be without them?

“He signs a nondisclosure.”

“Done.” Edgar spoke up immediately.

“We talk to Dr. Keynes and get his agreement.”

“I’ll do it.” Flora already had out her phone.