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“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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