Shattered Memories

by Susan Harris

  Finally, the doors opened, and I exited and made my way along the corridor. From up there, you could see down into the mess hall from all angles. Windows and floors were made of special types of glass where from above you could see everything below while the general population below saw only a beam that ran from one side of the ceiling to the other. Even though every inch of me longed to sneak a peek and search out a familiar mess of curly hair, I restrained myself. The camera rotations were a stark reminder that I was being watched.

  I scanned through the next door and entered, exchanging brief pleasantries with a few of my colleagues who were already seated. I took my usual spot at the far end of the table, creating as much distance as possible between me and the warden’s head of the table location. Listening in on the conversation that had begun prior to my arrival, I nodded at the appropriate parts although I had no interest in what they said.

  The guards’ conversation stilled as Theresa Lane entered the room and strolled over to her seat. I hardly knew anything about the woman, but she made me feel very uneasy. Plus, should I be found out, it would be her signature that signed my own death sentence. In my case, there would be no waiting; I was almost twenty-three. Mine would be a quick death.

  Theresa called the meeting to order, and I listened as officers droned on about security protocol and how well the new education programs were going. One of the security guards, I think his name was Sullivan, spoke of one or two instances where some of the boys had tried to sneak off with girls during common time. They had been sent to solitary. The warden brushed the incident off as a minor offence and said that in future, save solitary for those who needed it, to just implement the behaviour chip.

  “A dose of reality will surely stop them from thinking this is a holiday camp and not a prison. If the chip does not deter such behaviour, I give consent to use force to set an example.”

  Sullivan was a burly mountain of a man. It might require a bulldozer to shift him. He looked overly cheery at the warden’s comment, and his lips curled up into a sadistic smile that assured me he would take pleasure in inflicting pain.

  A few more items on the agenda were discussed, and I tried to take it all in but had more important issues on my mind. Although my interest was piqued when I heard Veronika’s name thrown out, I chewed on my pen and remained silent. Head of security, Matthews, suggested they do something about Veronika’s behaviour.

  “I mean the girl actively seeks out trouble. Her perception of power over the Russian inmates and her enjoyment at hurting the weaker inmates is progressing at an alarming rate. Would she be an ideal candidate for Treatment?”

  Theresa stared down at Matthews and pursed her lips. “Treatment has not been proven to help those who lack the capacity for emotion. Veronika does not see her actions as wrong. That is what brought her here in the first place. She murdered her roommates out of rage and plastered their blood on the walls. Why should I waste the advances in science on someone who will be dead in two years?”

  Her words were crass, but I was intrigued by whatever Treatment they had in mind. Psychologists were excluded from meetings where physical or chemical remedies were discussed. Yes, thanks to Connors, I knew that a scientific lab existed beneath the prison where studies were being conducted to advance methods used in all prisons. The behaviour chip had been created there.

  Matthews cleared his throat and wiggled his caterpillar-like eyebrows before he spoke again, “Warden McCarthy suggested that Treatment might be of use to help eradicate the death penalty altogether. Surely, we can be allowed to view his research and see if it is beneficial.”

  Theresa sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes narrowed, causing her brow to crease. I noticed a slight tick in her jaw. She was not happy when the subject of Alana’s dad was brought up. But I had to hand it to her, even as I studied her reaction, she took the time to calm herself before replying to Matthews. “Cormac is dead. His idiotic ideas that everyone could be redeemed were idiotic and ludicrous. Treatment, once it has been scientifically proven, will only be available for those who are to be successfully integrated back into society. For those on death row, their fates are sealed, regardless of the empty dreams of a dead man.”

  The room because eerily quiet as guards and officials were taken aback by the cruelty and tone of her words. Whether they agreed or disagreed, no one spoke. As the meeting ended, I gathered my papers together to make a quick exit. Sensing something at my back, I looked up.

  “Speaking of the McCarthy family, Dr Costello… I hear your pet project has finally begun to crack. Is it true that lies are being uncovered?”

  I clutched the files to my chest trying to ignore my shaking hands. “What lies have been uncovered? We have no evidence to prove the girl is less than sincere about her memories. There is significant reason to believe that the trauma leading to that night forced Miss McCarthy into burying the incident deep within her mind in order to protect herself.”

  “But there is also no evidence to say your findings are fact either, Dr Costello. By all reports, the girl was top of her class with a high IQ. It is not beyond reasonable thinking that Miss McCarthy is so smart that she devised this memory loss ploy as an elaborate plot to avoid her inevitable death?”

  The others around us stayed glued to their seats, witnessing the verbal ping-pong. I pushed my glasses back up on my nose and replied, “I reserve judgment on Miss McCarthy until such time as her memory returns, which I do believe will happen. Until then, I must remain impartial so I may treat her to the best of my ability. Having spent a significant amount of time with Miss McCarthy, I can say that, in my professional opinion, she is not faking her memory loss and has always been open and honest about her willingness to try.”

  All eyes were on me.

  “I have begun to use techniques to try and lull her subconscious into remembering. By all accounts, her recollection of the time spent on field assignment is the first step to unlocking the truth about how her parents died. Until that happens, I am willing to presume her innocent until proven guilty.”

  The warden leaned forward, a sneer almost as sadistic as Sullivan’s uglying her face. “But, Dr Costello, she has already been proven guilty by means of physical evidence. Her death has been set. Memories or not, the girl will die.”

  I held her gaze as bile crept up my throat. “Then so be it… but I would rather her die knowing the truth than us never finding out what happened to Warden McCarthy. Don’t you agree?”

  She never answered me, so we all assumed the meeting was over and people started filing out of the room as I stepped into the flow. I froze when my name was called.

  “Dr Costello. A word, if you please.”

  I stepped back and waited until the room had emptied, leaving only me and the warden. Telling myself to keep calm, I struggled as sweat beaded on my forehead and the room felt suddenly far too hot. Theresa poured herself a glass of water and took a sip, keeping me waiting while she assessed my mood.

  “It’s easy to forget how young you are, Dr Costello. If it were not for someone going over my head, I would not have allowed you to carry on with your silliness regarding Miss McCarthy. How old were you when you got your first degree?”

  “I had just turned sixteen. But while I accept that you never wanted me here, warden, I am here and my work is not silliness. The mind is a powerful thing, far greater than any scientific advancement that may or may not happen. The brain protects itself in ways we can only imagine… whether it’s keeping someone in a coma so their body can recuperate or suppressing memories that may be difficult for the subject to deal with. I would gladly show you numerous studies related to my research, but I doubt you have time to pour over that many pages.”

  She tapped her fingernails on the glass, and I waited. Suddenly she laughed, causing me to jump slightly in surprise. “Forgive me, Dr Costello. I am a woman of science, and it is difficult to trust something that cannot be proven and seen with my own eyes. You ar
e also aware that this case is close to my heart. Warden McCarthy and his death caused me much pain. Such a waste of a family.”

  I nodded in agreement, but something in her voice was not quite right. “No offence taken, Warden. I may be young, but I am determined to unravel this mystery in time. Miss McCarthy has begun to recall things from her past. It is my hope that she will do so in time so we can all rest easy knowing that the true culprit will be punished for their crimes.”

  She regarded me for a moment and spun in her chair to glance around the mess hall as she said, “Yes, they will.” I took that as my dismissal, and I was free to go. Turning on my heels, I high-tailed it out of there before she could say more. Relief flooded through me when I retraced my steps and returned to the safety and comfort of my office. Once inside behind closed doors, I allowed the folder to drop to the ground and me with it. My hands shook, and before I could stop myself I heaved into the wastepaper bin, emptying the contents of my stomach in one go.

  I really thought she had caught me, figured it out. Damn it, I was a nerd, not an international spy! Time was my worst enemy, and I had barely weeks to wrap everything up in a nice bow. My nerves faltered.

  Upon regaining my composure, I collapsed onto one of the chairs and closed my eyes, eager to cling to an early memory of me and Alana. I needed something to help get through this.

  I had changed my clothes about seven times, but every time nothing seemed quite right. Alana had told me to wear whatever I was comfortable in, but I rarely went to pubs and did not want to stick out like a sore thumb. She knew I would go. How could I refuse, with such a beautiful girl by my side?

  Despite having had coffee a few times, this was our first official date and “nervous as hell” did not accurately describe the feelings in my gut. In the end, I settled for faded blue jeans, a pale blue t-shirt, and a black short-sleeved shirt over it. We were only going to the pub on campus, but I did not want to embarrass myself by proving why Alana and I weren’t logical together.

  Knocking on the door of her room, I waited, and my jaw almost hit the floor when Alana stepped out of the room. She was a knockout in a short purple shirt dress, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and black heels that almost brought her up to my height. Alana smiled at my reaction and linked our arms, laughing as she said she needed to lean on me for support so she did not fall over in the heels.

  I liked having her so close to me, and with her dressed like that, it was hard for my brain to remember that she was barely seventeen. My self-esteem soared when Alana ignored all the admiring glances and remained focused on me.

  We entered the pub and went straight to the bar where I ordered a pint for me and a Coke for Alana. After finding a private table, we chatted about our day and slipped into a familiar pattern. My knees grazed hers beneath the table. The beer made me feel brave, and I reached for Alana’s hand across the table.

  As she held my hand in hers, the glint in her eyes made me deliriously happy. We discussed her impending field trip, and she blushed when I said I would miss her over the next few days.

  “You’ll be working too hard on your presentation to miss me.” She mused.

  “Or… missing you so much that I can’t concentrate.”

  She smiled and leaned in close enough that I could have kissed her had I had the nerve. Her eyes twinkled. “Smooth, Costello… very smooth.”

  It was my turn to laugh then because smooth and Costello didn’t belong in the same sentence. A group entered the bar and Alana tensed as one of the girls and her little flock spotted us and made the way to our table.

  “Alana, darling, you never mentioned you were heading out tonight.”

  “I didn’t mention it because it was private.” Her tone was clipped and sharp, and I wondered if she were embarrassed by my presence. When I tried to ease my hand out of hers, she held on with such a grip that I was bound to have indents of her nails in my palm.

  “I had a date with my boyfriend, Dara. It’s hard enough to get time together when our schedules are so busy.”

  Boyfriend? I liked the sound of that.

  This Dara person looked me up and down and flicked her blonde hair off her shoulders. “Oh, you kept that one quiet, missy. Boyfriend of Alana, I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

  “The name’s Daniel Costello. I’m sure you would have seen me around campus.”

  “That’s not it… I remember now… you did a couple of lectures for Professor O’Neill, right? On offender profiling?”

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “Oh, Alana you picked a good one there… a lot of the girls were swooning over your Daniel during his lectures.”

  Swooning?

  Alana cocked her head to the side and flashed Dara her most radiant smile. “I know, right? And I get to have him all to myself. I am such a lucky girl. S’cuse us, Dara, but I love this song and want to dance with my boyfriend.”

  Pulling me from my seat, Alana led me onto the dance floor as the music suddenly changed to a slower tempo. I used the heel and height advantage and slipped my arms around her waist and pulled her close. She rested her head on my chest, and I closed my eyes not wanting this feeling to ever leave. As other couples danced around us, Alana looked up at me and smiled sheepishly.

  “Boyfriend?” I asked and laughed again as she shrugged.

  She replied simply, “Our relationship was heading that way, and I’m not known for my patience. So it’s official now, and that’s that.”

  “And I have no say in it?”

  “Nope, get used to it. When we are old and grey and our grandkids are running around the place, you still will have no say.” She grinned in the dim light but had never looked so beautiful. Most guys would have run at the mention of kids and grandkids, but I had known from day one that she was the one for me.

  Taking her by surprise, I lowered my face to hers and kissed her. Now some men would be reluctant to admit it, but I didn’t care. The moment my lips met hers, and she kissed me back, our tongues tasted each other and we both savoured the experience. It felt like heaven.

  When we finally broke apart, both of us caught our breath, and she looked up at me with one eyebrow raised. I smiled and simply said, “It seemed like something a boyfriend would do.”

  Without hesitation, she pulled me in for another kiss and as she laughed, the world faded away. It was just me and my girl and the kiss that made me feel as if I were the luckiest man alive.

  The phone shrilled on my desk and dragged me from my happy thoughts. I rose from the chair and answered it on the fourth ring.

  “Daniel Costello.”

  Nothing. But I could hear some breathing on the other end, so I waited and heard the words that flooded me with hope.

  “Daniel… it’s Dad. I’ve thought things over… How can I help?”

  10

  Alana

  “Build a bridge of memories, stretch it out overseas,

  To the end of the world if there’s a way.”

  (Limp Bizkit: Build a Bridge)

  I blinked my eyes open, waiting for them to adjust to the darkened room, awakened by the raised voices that resonated from the kitchen below my bedroom. My parents had never fought while I was growing up, but it seemed that recently as I prepared to leave for my training, the arguments had become a regular occurrence. The topic of disagreement was always about the same thing: my father’s job.

  Even though the voices were raised, I couldn’t quite make out the actual words being said. My mother never raised her voice, never shouted at us when she was mad, making her silence deadlier and louder than any screaming match. She never lost her cool or raised a hand to us, so what had changed in the last couple of months to leave my parents at each other’s throats?

  The wind howled outside, whistling through the house, and I heard the attic door banging from the hole in the roof that Dad had promised to fix ages ago. I listened as the rain bounced off my window, and it seemed that the storm outside was gathering as much forc
e as the one downstairs.

  Worried that the noise of their fight would wake and frighten Sophia, I slipped from my bed, careful to avoid the creaks on the floor just inside the door of my room. Twisting the handle, I pulled the door open and crept down the landing to Sophia’s room. Gently, I pushed her bedroom door open and spotted the top of her blonde head under the covers. I watched her sleep for just a brief moment. Her light snores indicated the deep sleep she was in, and I closed the door fully so she would not wake up frightened by the argument in the other room.

  Knowing I would be unable to sleep… and just because I was nosey, I quietly made my way back across the landing and passed my room. Instead of returning to my own bed, I sat down on the top step to listen. I shivered, although I didn’t know whether it was because I could hear the frustration in my mom’s voice or because of the chill that rattled through the old house. Goosebumps littered my skin, and I hugged my knees to my chest.

  “Damn it, Sorcha, how many times must I tell you that my work is important.”

  “And as I keep asking you, Cormac, is your work more important than your family?”

  “You know it isn’t, but I have a duty of care for those under my watch.”

  “Those people you care about are criminals, some of them have raped or killed. How can you put those animals ahead of your family again? And what would you do if those in your care decided to seek retribution for being locked up? They could come for us.”

  “For God’s sake, woman! That’s not even an issue, and you know it. For some reason, your distrust of Theresa and your anxiety over Alana has made you crazy.”

  My ears pricked up at the sound of my name, and I leaned my head against the wooden railing in the hopes of hearing more.