“You’ll remember being held down, your legs on the floor and your head dangling over the tub. You’ll remember what your brother felt when they pushed the knife they used to butcher him up against his skin, what he felt when they slit his throat. You’ll remember what it was like for him to watch his own blood spray all over the bathtub, what it was like for him to know that he was going to die.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Angie asked. Cole didn’t stop.
“You’ll remember what it feels like to have your life drain out of you before you’re ready to let it go. You’ll remember a helplessness and hopelessness that nobody should have to remember. Do you have any idea what that might do to you?”
“What are you trying to do?” Angie pleaded, fighting to hold back her tears.
“I’m trying to make sure that you’re ready for what will come if you go in there and let them inject your brother’s memories into your head.”
“And who the hell are you? What do you know?”
Cole gave Angie a cold, hard stare. “I know plenty,” Cole assured her, and those words and that look gave her the answer. She knew she didn’t need to ask the question again. “You don’t have to do this, Angie.” Cole looked at his watch again. He still had five minutes to close the deal. “If you don’t go through with it, Bon’s memories won’t die. I’ll take them. I’ll take them, and I’ll use them to track down the people who killed him. It’s what I do. I can do it for your brother.”
Cole lost another minute to silence as Angie sat, unable to talk, unable to move, unsure of what to say. Cole didn’t interrupt the silence. It was costing them time, but he knew he had to let everything run over her. He had to let her absorb it. Cole knew what she would say when the silence ended. He knew. He was certain. He was wrong.
Angie lifted her head into the silence. “No,” she said, with more strength than Cole would have guessed she had in her. “I want them. I’m not going to abandon my little brother again.” She shook her head at Cole. “He never got to meet my kids. They never had a chance to meet their uncle. Maybe they can meet him through me, even if it’s just a little bit. I’ll take all the bad stuff if I can just have a little bit of my brother back. I should have been there for him. I have to do this.”
Her response caught Cole off guard. Suddenly, a series of memories flashed through his mind. They went fast, like they were rushing to be remembered. Cole could barely make any sense of them other than to understand that they were all memories of brothers and sisters, image after image of playing together and laughing together and being scared together and being happy together. They only slowed down near the end. The penultimate memory was of Annie. Meg and Annie were sitting on a bed together. Meg was reading to Annie, who couldn’t have been more than three years old. Cole remembered Annie looking up at Meg, her eyes wide with amazement. He didn’t remember what Meg was reading or what they did when they were done. The entire memory boiled down to that look on Annie’s face as she stared up in awe at her big sister, frozen forever in Meg’s memories. The last memory was his own. He remembered the sight of Annie, thirteen years old and sitting alone in the police station, reading Great Expectations. The memories flashed by him in an instant, but it was long enough. “And you think you can handle everything that’s in those memories?” Cole asked Angie before he realized what he was about to do. Even Cole had underestimated the power of memories.
“I don’t know, but I’m willing to take my chances,” Angie answered him.
There was a knock at the door. Before Cole even had a chance to respond, he heard Ed’s voice. “It’s time, Cole.”
“Not yet,” Cole yelled back through the closed door. “You said fifteen minutes. I still have two minutes.”
“I’m not going to change my mind,” Angie said to Cole with a fierce determination. “He was my brother.”
“I don’t want you to change your mind,” Cole said back to Angie, barely believing the words as he spoke them. “I just want two more minutes.”
“Cole?” Ed’s voice came through the closed door again.
“Two minutes, Ed!” Cole shouted back.
“Why?” Angie asked him.
“Because your brother’s memories are dangerous.” Angie started to stand up. She was going to walk away. “Wait,” Cole said. “I’m not trying to convince you not to take his memories. Please sit. Please listen.” Angie sat back down. She could hear the sincerity in Cole’s voice. He could hear it himself. He wasn’t used to the sound. “Your brother was murdered because he knew things that someone didn’t want him to know. If you take his memories, you’ll know them too, or at least they’ll assume that you do. I don’t have time to explain it all to you now. I just want you and your children to be safe.”
Angie believed him. “How?” Angie asked.
“You can have your brother’s memories. You should have them. I shouldn’t be trying to stop you. You’re his sister. He’d want you to have them.” Cole reached out and grabbed one of Angie’s hands. “But people don’t need to know that you have them. We need to let everyone think that you changed your mind. We need everyone to believe that I took Bon’s memories. Then they’ll come after me. I want them to come after me. I’ll be ready for them.”
“But what about the memories? What about this dangerous thing that I’ll know?”
“If I don’t tell you what it is, there’s a chance you’ll never remember it. It may seem too insignificant to you compared with all the other memories. If we’re lucky, it will be lost in your brain forever. It’ll be better if you never remember, but if it does come to you, I’ll make sure that you know how to find me.”
“How will I know if I’ve remembered the dangerous thing?”
“You’ll know,” Cole assured her. “Trust me.” There was another knock at the door. “Until then, follow my lead, okay?” Angie nodded. Cole could see how afraid she was. He was glad that she was afraid. She was about to do something worthy of that fear. Cole stood up. Angie followed suit. Then they walked toward the door together.
Chapter 44
The sudden, vivid, almost savage memory of naked flesh pressing against naked flesh made Carter certain that he was getting close. He’d tried Costa Rica’s west coast first, because he’d read all about a surfing town there called Nosara. He’d convinced himself that if it was the place, when he got there the surfer’s memories would come flooding out of him. Nosara was beautiful; Carter couldn’t deny that. The beaches were long and lined with palm trees. They were backed by jungles full of monkeys and brightly colored birds. It would have been paradise for most people, but it wasn’t the right paradise. The memories didn’t come. Carter wasn’t interested in beauty. He wasn’t interested in making his own memories. He knew that whatever memories he could make wouldn’t hold a candle to the surfer’s. The surfer had been young and godlike when he made his memories. Carter was old and flabby and totally out of his element. He’d spent most of his life lording over conference rooms and committee meetings. Not here.
Carter purchased a hat to keep the sun off of his face. He bought long linen pants to cover his pale legs. He did his best to stay in the shade, to keep the sun from burning his skin. Those weren’t the memories he wanted. He wanted memories of being young and vibrant and alive. He tried other surfing towns on the west coast. None of them triggered any new memories. He’d already been in Costa Rica for over a week when he decided to head east.
The first memory of sex came to Carter before he even reached the coast. He had stopped at a resort in the mountains for one night to break up his trip across the country. He woke up in bed in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, his cock so hard it hurt. At first, he thought he was merely having a wild, erotic dream. But it wasn’t a dream. It was so much more powerful than a dream. It was a memory. He knew because it didn’t stop even after he opened his eyes. He was immersed in it. She was on top of him, riding him. Her light skin glistened with sweat, and her blond hair bounced over her sh
oulders as she moved. She wasn’t as young as the others—she had to have been a good ten years older than the surfer—but she was fit and beautiful. She was probably in her late thirties, a woman on vacation, escaping whatever humdrum life she had back home, looking for that release, looking for a tan, muscular body that would know how to make her forget things. Her whole body glowed in the moonlight as she lifted herself off him and then drove herself back down again with an intensity that Carter, even after all the surfer’s other memories, hadn’t known was possible. Then she shifted and, instead of bouncing on top of him, she began to grind herself into him. Unlike the others, Carter could tell this wasn’t about power or jealousy or even fun. This was about need. It was about trying to fuck away death, about trying to fuck away the passage of time. It was about flesh, about the fact that all we are is flesh. The surfer reached up and squeezed her breasts so that her nipples poked out between his fingers as she rode him. Then he lifted himself up and took each nipple between his lips one at a time. She let out a groan and began to ride him even harder.
For a moment Carter thought about what it would be like to have her memories, to be living this moment through them. For her, this was probably a wild conquest, an adventure, maybe even an act of rebellion. Maybe, Carter thought, after the jazz musician, he should look into purchasing a woman’s memories. That could wait, though. Carter pulled himself back into the memory, the woman still straddling him. Carter wouldn’t have known what to do next, but the surfer did. He took his hands off the woman’s breasts and moved them around to her lower back, right above the top of her ass. Then he pushed down, pushing her into him even harder, not letting her ease up, not giving her any room to escape the pleasure even if she wanted to, making sure that he hit every part of her that felt good. A bead of sweat rolled down her breast. It stopped for a moment on her nipple like a drop of rain dripping off a leaf. The surfer licked it off with a flick of his tongue. That sent her over the top. Carter could remember what it felt like, her tightening around him as she came hard, gasping and digging her fingernails into his chest. Carter would have been finished. He almost came just lying there, not wanting to move, not wanting to touch anything for fear that he’d lose the memory. But the surfer wasn’t done. He’d come close, but he stopped himself. He could do that. He’d had enough practice. When the woman’s bucking stopped, he gave her a few seconds to let her breathing return to normal. Then he threw her off him so that she was lying on her stomach on the bed next to him. “Get on your hands and knees,” the surfer ordered the woman. She obeyed, lifting her ass into the air, her body still wet with sweat.
“Where are you going to fuck me?” she said to the surfer in a raspy whisper, unable to manage anything stronger because she was still recovering from her orgasm. “You can take me however you want. I want it so bad.” She was already rubbing herself, getting herself ready again. By the time the surfer got behind her, Carter was powerless. He didn’t move other than to breathe, but even his breathing moved the sheets on top of him, and that was enough to end it all for him. He couldn’t keep up with the surfer. He didn’t want to. That’s why he wanted more memories. Without his touching anything Carter’s own body contracted, once, twice, three times until he was lying on his side in a ball. Then the memory stopped. The memories of sex never made it past Carter’s own orgasm. If he were lucky he’d be able to pick them up again another time where he’d left off.
He lay there, his stomach and chest sticky from the mix of sweat and semen. He felt embarrassed, but no one was there to see him, so the embarrassment passed. Then he realized that the memory hadn’t come to him out of nowhere. Something brought it on. He couldn’t be sure what. The smell of the forest? The sounds? Whatever it was, it was something about this place. Maybe it wasn’t this room or this resort, but it was this mountain. If this mountain could bring on a memory that potent, then Carter knew he would find a beach that would unlock memories more powerful than any he’d experienced so far. He grew giddy with excitement.
Despite what he was sure was coming, Carter checked his email to see how the arrangements for his new memories were proceeding. Without any explanation, Fergus informed Carter that there had been some complications. He told Carter not to worry, and that they would have the memories that he’d requested, but that it might take a bit longer than had originally been expected. Carter took the news well. He didn’t need to rush it now. He could spend more time in Costa Rica. He merely wanted to be sure everything would be ready for him when he returned. Once he was done with the surfer’s memories, he wasn’t going to want to wait for the next ones.
Chapter 45
Cole checked his rearview mirror again. He didn’t see anything. The blue sedan that had been behind him for the last forty minutes was gone. Now he could simply drive. He was on the highway, heading west, into the woods. A week had passed since they’d let the world know that he had inherited Bon’s memories. Cole was pretty sure that someone had been being following him ever since. All he could hope was that, if he was being followed, then maybe Angie was being left alone.
Cole left the hospital that day with bandages on the back of his neck. As soon as he stepped out of the building, he felt a shadow behind him. Walking away, he twice stopped and turned to look back. The New York City sidewalk was full of people, but none of them seemed to notice that Cole even existed. And still the feeling didn’t leave him when he started walking again. Since turning and looking behind him did nothing, Cole sped up. He didn’t run. He merely moved more quickly through the crowd, slipping between strangers’ bodies, hoping that the shadow wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. Cole couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t simple paranoia, but he trusted his gut. Instead of going home, he went straight to the police station. When he got there, he went to his desk and loaded his gun.
Six days went by before he got another break in the case. During those six days, Cole rarely felt the shadow leave him. He began to double-check the locks on his apartment door every night. All the while, he was doing everything he could think of to find another break in the case. Cole didn’t have any new memories to rely on, which meant that he had to be a real cop. He had to chase down every lead, analyze every clue. He didn’t have a lot to work with. As far as he could tell, he only had one lead: Jerry. Cole was determined to find Jerry, no matter what it took. If Jerry was alive, Cole was going to find him. If Jerry was dead, Cole was going to find his body. Cole kept going back to every one of Meg’s memories that had Jerry in it, looking for something that might help. The more he looked, the more certain he became that nothing more was there. So, instead of searching for Jerry, Cole decided to try to flush him out. He began tracking down everyone else in Meg’s memories who might know something about Jerry. Cole knew those risks. He still at least partially blamed himself for Bon’s death, but he went ahead anyway. Nothing mattered to him except for finding this Memory Vampire.
“Let Jerry know that I’m looking for him.” Cole used those words on each of Jerry’s old acquaintances he could locate. He began to pass out business cards with the frequency of a traveling salesman. “Call me if you hear anything.” Nobody would talk. “Let him know that I’m looking for him” became Cole’s mantra.
“Look, I really don’t know the guy that well,” a few of them said, trying to hand Cole’s card back to him.
“Keep it,” Cole answered them. “You never know when you might need it.” Cole was trying to make it dangerous for Jerry. Based on what they’d done to Bon, Cole had to imagine that Jerry had plenty of reason to worry about having his name associated with the cops. Even though nothing new was happening, even though no one had connected Bon’s murder to the others, the papers kept printing Memory Vampire stories. Cole made sure of that, slowly feeding them information, one small detail at a time. Most of them were even true. The world was intrigued. Suddenly, being happy or interesting was dangerous—good memories could make you a target. Cole never let it spill to any of the people he’d talked to that J
erry was in any way connected to the Memory Vampire. The people who needed to know that already knew. Cole simply told them that Jerry was in trouble and could use some help. All the while, Cole could feel the shadow lurking behind him.
On the sixth day, Cole got a phone call at the station. “Detective Jones,” Cole said, bringing the phone to his ear after letting it ring a couple of times.
“Are you the Memory Detective?” the voice asked.
“My name is Detective Jones,” Cole repeated.
“But you’re the Memory Detective, right? I need to talk to the Memory Detective.” The voice was shaky. It sounded more like a nervous boy’s voice than a man’s, but Cole recognized something inside it.
“What do you want?” Cole asked even as the memories began to flood into him. The bus. The introduction to New York. The introduction to Sam. Everything. That voice was the source of everything.
“I have some information for you,” the voice said.
“Matt?” Cole said into the phone when he finally put it all together. He stood up. “Are you okay?”
“How do you know who I am?” Matt asked. Cole worried that he might hang up the phone.
“That doesn’t matter. Are you all right?” Cole was willing to risk Jerry, but he didn’t want to hurt another one of Meg’s friends.
“I’m fine,” Matt said. “I have information for you. But how—?”
“I remember you,” Cole said before Matt could finish his question. “I have Meg’s memories. I remember you. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m okay,” Matt answered even though he now sounded even more nervous. “Listen, he wants to talk to you. He asked me to set up a meeting. That’s all.” The sentences came out like machine-gun fire, one right after the other.
“Who is he?” Cole asked.
“Jerry,” Matt said. “He wants to talk to you. He knows that you’ve been looking for him.”
The Memory Detective Page 23