Never Tell (Detective D.D. Warren #10) - Lisa Gardner Page 0,74

crap.”

“There are other techniques.” Flora spoke up first. “I’ve done some research. The human brain works a lot like a computer. First, there’s the matter of what data is recorded in the moment. Particularly in traumatic situations, some people’s senses heighten and they see all. But most people actually shut down. They squeeze their eyes shut, cover their ears, try to block what’s happening. They don’t want to know. Meaning the data is incomplete.”

D.D. arched a brow at her CI.

“I was a long-term victim,” Flora supplied in response to the next logical question. “In the beginning, maybe I did try to shut it out. I certainly don’t remember many specific details of the first … assault. But over time, the … continuity”—Flora picked the word carefully—“made the events less traumatic and more normal. At which point, I had plenty of opportunities to note and record more … data. So it’s not like I’m trying to recover one memory, which might be suspect, but a string of impressions I had months to form.”

On the table, Edgar’s hand moved closer to Flora’s. Still not touching, D.D. noticed, but closer. In return, Flora’s hand drifted slightly toward his. Fascinating. D.D. had never known the woman to even look at a member of the opposite sex. Now this: a true-crime buff. She hoped Flora knew what she was doing. And she hoped like hell Keith Edgar saw Flora as a person, and not just the object of a macabre criminal case.

“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