Memory Makers
“I was enthralled with the way the story unfolded and the past was finally revealed, along with the identity of the killer”
“A mesmerizing tale”
“This book cleverly combined a crime thriller with a hint of science fiction... An excellent and intriguing read”
Memory Makers - book excerpt
Chapter One
I leaned back, closed my eyes against the blaring lights of the jail cell-sized room and tried to answer Dr. Murray’s questions about that summer day twenty-five years ago. Concentrating on the images that flickered in my mind, I saw my five-year-old sister and me in a sandbox, a faceless man entering our backyard gate.
“Don't think too hard, Lauren. Let the memories come.” The doctor's voice persisted, a mantra in my head.
I struggled to summon up the rest of the scene. “Patty and I are in our sandbox and there’s a man, but … I’m sorry, Dr. Murray. I can’t see his face.” I opened my eyes. My heart was pounding, the same reaction I had each night after my dreams of the “Shadow Man” that had haunted me since childhood.
“Keep trying, Lauren. Close your eyes again and take some deep breaths.”
"No. It’s useless. I can’t remember anything else. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I need to be accepted into your clinical trial.” I stared across at Dr. Randolph Murray, the head doctor at Memory Makers.
Dr. Murray glanced down at the table through his bi-focal lenses. The surface was empty except for the manila file he flipped open and began to read to himself. “Hmm,” he said closing it as he met my stare. “You were kidnapped with your sister that day and found in the woods that night. Your sister’s body was recovered later. Yet you don’t remember anything after the two of you were in your backyard together.” He paused, still meeting my eyes with his dissecting gaze. We know that major events in our lives, whether good or bad, are easiest to recall. Unless, of course, one puts up a block.”
“That’s why I’m here,” I said dropping my eyes to the table. I noticed one nick scratched on the side and wondered how it happened. Did another one of the volunteers for this new memory drug trial make it?
“Lauren, you understand that the people we’ve accepted into this program are subjects who are candidates for dementia and Alzheimer’s? Some have already developed signs of these illnesses. Your case is different. We made an exception, but you need to cooperate.”
“I am cooperating, Dr. Murray. You know my background. You have it all in your file. I’ve consulted numerous psychologists and psychiatrists. I’ve been hypnotized a bunch of times with no luck. You’re my last resort.” I watched his face for any sign of compassion but didn’t see any. It was cold, calculating, scientific, and distant. I wondered not for the first time if I’d done the right thing by answering the Facebook ad asking for volunteers to test a new drug for memory loss that promised not only to keep a person from forgetting but to actually retrieve lost memories.
Murray closed my file, looked up at me again. “All right, in that case, we move on to step 2. I’ll call the nurse to prepare the injection.”
“No. Wait.” I stood up. “I don’t think I’m ready. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
I expected him to argue with me, insist that I stay and finish the trial. Instead, he smiled and extended his hand to me. “Very well, Miss Phelps. I wish you well.” His use of my last name indicated he wasn’t happy with my decision to quit.
“I need to remember what happened with Patty, but I’ve only been coming here for a week. Can’t I have more time to …”
He cut me off before I could finish with a shake of his head. “I’m afraid not. These sessions we’ve had so far were just the prep for the injections. We’ve done the same with the other five candidates. No one has objected to the shot. There’s nothing to worry about. We don’t expect any major side effects. We start with a low dose. There are a series of three shots usually given a week or two apart depending on the subject’s progress. The memory effect isn’t fully apparent until after the last shot. At that point, we follow up for as long as it takes. I think this was already explained to you, so why are you backing out now?”
The truth issued from my lips before I could censor it, “I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” He raised his gray eyebrows over his glass frames. “That you’ll remember? Isn’t that what you want? Don’t you want to see the person responsible for your sister’s murder brought to justice?”
“Of course, I do.” I sat back down and took a breath. I was glad he was trying to convince me to stay. “What happens after the first shot?”
He sighed. “I’ll be honest. We’re not sure. I would imagine that, after the first injection, you would have better recall of your short-term memory. For instance, you might recall what you ate for dinner the night before. Many people, even those without memory issues, can’t don’t that. As I mentioned, people tend not to focus on unimportant experiences. Unless something unique happened at dinner, you probably wouldn’t consider it important enough to record in your crowded memory bank. But with the aid of the injection, not only would you remember every bite of that steak or swallow of that wine, but you would smell and taste it.”
“That sounds amazing, but you said that my long-term memories wouldn’t be uncovered until after the third shot.”
He nodded again. “That’s right. But we mustn’t skip to the third shot before you’re ready. It’s very important that we space out the injections for the optimum results.” He cleared his throat and then said, “There’s one more part of this treatment that you should know about. After the first shot, you’ll start to attend group sessions with the other patients involved in the study. You’ll be required to spend most of your day here and eat your meals with them. The food will be provided as well as daily exercise and reading material. Do you have any objections to that?”
It sounded more like a psychological trial than a medical one, but I had no choice but to agree now that I’d decided to continue. “No,” I said sounding firmer than I felt.
“Good. Then I’ll summon the nurse. You’re agreeing to the first shot.” It was a statement rather than a question.
I took another deep breath. “Sure. Go ahead.” I had nothing to lose at this point. For years, I’d held myself responsible for what happened to Patty, and it had broken up my parents’ marriage as well as my college romance.
While Dr. Murray went down the hall to summon the nurse, I thought back to when I first learned of the Memory Maker’s drug trial.
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