Michael Koryta - Last Words

Some of those ways feel out of reach now, don’t they? They feel like something beyond you, beyond your potential. But they are not beyond your potential, Mark. You’re feeling that now, aren’t you? You’re understanding that your potential has changed. That all the old approaches can be improved upon. Tell me what you think about your old approaches?

They can be improved upon.

Mark felt like rushing at her again; hell, he felt like hitting her this time, knocking her onto the floor and taking that recorder and smashing it until it turned to fragments and then until the fragments turned to dust. He couldn’t move, though. He stood, frozen, listening to the voice he knew was his own speaking words he didn’t remember saying.

To feel closer to Sarah, would it have helped you if you had spoken to her family, do you think? Would that have helped?

Yes. It would have helped.

Think back on this conversation, then. Recall all that was said and all that was beneath the words. Because you know that there were things beneath the words, and you know that what was beneath the words mattered most, and always does, and always will. The words we say are not what matters most, are they?

No. The words do not tell the story.

The words Don’t embarrass me with this shit knifed through Mark’s brain, and he winced. Julianne watched him in silence.

So you know this. And you know that what was beneath the words you heard today could have come from someone close to Sarah, could they not? They could have come from her mother, perhaps. Do you think that is true?

Yes. That is true.

Would you like to remember the conversation that way? So that you can focus on what counts, and you can open your mind to new approaches?

Yes.

Then you will. You will remember that you spoke to Diane Martin, Sarah’s mother. You will remember her pain. You will remember her desperate thirst for truth. You will remember that what is beneath the words is what matters, and what was beneath the words came from Diane Martin. Do you remember this?

Yes.

Who did you speak with today?

Diane Martin.

And what mattered?

What was beneath the words.

Exactly. All of this you already know, and so all of this you will remember.

“Stop it,” Mark said. His voice broke. “Turn that damn thing off, turn it off now! ”

She stopped the recording. Her face was serene.

“It’s jarring to hear, I’m sure. But if you—”

“How did you do that? Did you drug me? I’ll have a blood test done, and if—”

“No drugs. You might do some Internet searches later on something called the Erickson handshake induction. You’ll see some obvious frauds, and some things that once would have made you laugh. But now? Now you won’t laugh.”

Down in the hotel lobby, she grabbed your wrist. It looked like a handshake at first, but she took hold of your wrist. It was a strange contact.

But it couldn’t have been that simple. There was no way. You didn’t just take hold of someone’s wrist in an unusual manner and then ask him unusual questions and through those means convince him that his reality had changed. It couldn’t be done.

“It was ketamine,” he said. “You didn’t hypnotize me, and you know it. There was a drug involved, and that’s easy enough to prove.”

“Then feel free to prove it.”

“How long have you known Jeremy and Brett Leonard?” Mark asked. “What about Evan Borders?”

Her face appeared genuinely puzzled, but she was a fine actor. “I’ve heard Evan’s name, but the others are new to me.”

“Sure they are. I’ll find out where you got the drug and I’ll connect you to them, but it won’t be necessary for that stupid damned recording anyhow. People will hear that and they’ll know that I was set up. You just proved my story with that alone.”

“But what if they heard this? ” she said, and she played another segment.

I had a snitch in Coleman prison down in Florida. He told me that he’d heard a rumor that someone in there had killed Lauren. And so I offered him ten thousand dollars and free legal assistance for his appeal if he... if he confirmed the rumor.

And how was he going to do that?

By any means necessary. And if it was confirmed, he had another hundred grand coming his way, though even he didn’t know that, because we didn’t get far enough along.

What was the other hundred grand for?

Killing him.

You would have arranged a man’s murder? You would have been comfortable with it?

If I could prove that he was the one who’d killed my wife? Absolutely. Without hesitation, I’d have had him killed. My only regret would be that I couldn’t do it myself.

Mark couldn’t speak. The plan that he’d had for the inmate in Coleman had existed only in his own mind. He’d had no fear that someone might find out about it, because he’d never voiced the plan to a soul.

Or so he had believed. They’d talked about it, but he hadn’t said... Even as he thought about it, though, it began to feel familiar. Feel vivid, in fact. He could see that table in the bar, could see her face, the face he’d believed was Diane Martin’s, and could recall her composed acceptance of the news when he’d delivered it. Yes, it had happened. How in the hell had he not remembered it?

“What are you thinking, Mr. Novak? You’ve grown very quiet. What’s on your mind?”

“You own me now,” he said.

“I don’t like that term.”

“But it’s the truth. You distribute that recording, and you can blow my life up. You know that and so do I. So what do you want? What in the hell do you want from me?”

“I want you to put Ridley Barnes in prison.”

He stared at her. “What? I thought you were working with him.”

“So does he,” Julianne Grossman said. “That’s why I had to go to the regrettable lengths that I did with you, in fact. Ridley does not trust easily. You have to prove yourself in the most severe ways to reach his inner circle. I’ve done that, I’ve broken my own ethical code to reach that point of trust with him, and I won’t waste that now.”

“Why do you care so much about Ridley Barnes?”

“Because I listened to him confess to the murder of Sarah Martin, Mr. Novak. Is that reason good enough for you?”

For a long time there was no sound but a ticking clock in some other room of the house. Julianne Grossman sat and waited and finally Mark said, “When did this happen?”

“During a trance session with Ridley last month. I make my living by using hypnosis to help people through their difficulties. Most of the time, that involves addictions or fears. I help people quit smoking, lose weight, gain the confidence to handle public speaking. Ridley came to me with a different problem; he said that he didn’t remember whether he’d killed a child, and he wanted to know.”

“You believed him.”

“At the time, yes.”

“And now?”

“Now I believe that Ridley Barnes is a wickedly smart sociopath. I believe that he killed that poor, sweet girl and got away with it and that too much time has passed and he’s grown bored. It’s important to me to keep him occupied. Do you understand why?”

“You think he’ll kill again if he’s not.”

“I fear it’s a very real possibility.”

“That’s a determination a good psychiatrist might be able to make,” Mark said. “Not a hypnotist. And if you’d had true concerns about Ridley and any conscience at all, you’d have spoken to police about this. They’re not aware of any confession, so I don’t think that you’ve told anyone about it.”