Page 101 of Ruthless Intent

She tips my head up with two fingers, and opens the wipes. “You weren’t at his house. I dropped by this morning.” Although it’s a statement, there’s a questioning note to her voice.

“We were at the …” I lick my lips. “The old house. He wanted to see if being there would bring any repressed memories out.”

“I see.” She dabs at the graze on my head. “And did it?”

My laugh is short. “You could say that.”

“You remembered something?”

“Like I said, the recording of my interview had things on there that I have no recollection of. I don’t understand why I don’t remember.”

“Trauma can do strange things to the mind.”

My head stings where she’s dabbing with the wipe, but I hold still.

“Have you ever heard the term false memories?”

“False memories?” I repeat slowly. “No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s when an experience is remembered as factual but is completely different from what actually happened. It can be little things like getting the color of a car wrong, or bigger … where you remember something that didn’t ever happen.”

“How can that be possible?”

“All sorts of things can cause it. Sigmund Freud was one of the pioneers of research into false memories. There have been many studies since, of course.”

“Can you give me an example?” Cold fingers of dread run up my spine.

“Oh … Let me think … If an eyewitness is questioned immediately after an incident, the memory can be altered by the use of leading questions. So, say you witnessed a car crash, you could be asked if you saw a man crossing the road. That would put it in your post-shocked mind that a man was crossing the road.”

“Leading questions?” My mouth is dry. I know where she’s directing this discussion, and I’m on edge waiting for her to mention it.

“I remember there was a case a few years ago, where a man sued two psychiatrists. He accused them of planting memories of incestual abuse into his daughter. The jury believed him. In another case, a woman was charged with second-degree murder, and child abuse after leaving her son in a hot car, where he died. The jury determined her not guilty because, after investigation, it seemed that she had the false memory of dropping off her son at the daycare, which was her daily habit.”

She turns away. “Would you like something to drink?”

Her abrupt change of subject surprises me. “I … I’d love a tea, if you have it.”

“I do. I find it a refreshing change to coffee.” She fills a pot with water, and places it on the stove. “I don’t like the way it tastes when you heat the water in the microwave, so I hope you don’t mind waiting.”

“No … no, it’s fine.”

“I have to say that I was surprised when Zain said he was having dinner with you so soon after his release.”

“I wasn’t expecting it either.”

“You left town, didn’t you? Quite a few years ago, if I recall correctly.”

“When I was eighteen.”

“Why did you come home?”

“I …” I have to be careful how I answer her. While I don’t think Zain will really have my mom arrested, I’m sure he has a list of other things he can do to ruin my life. “I saw the news about Zain being released. It shocked me.”

“His lawyer tried to find you, you know. I think he wanted to ask you about what you said in court.”

“Zain told me.” He didn’t.

“I was angry with you for a long time. Angry that you believed my son would be capable of doing something like that to his best friend. But I also know how traumatizing walking in and seeing … well, you were barely more than a child.”

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