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Authors: W. G. Griffiths

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BOOK: Driven
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“Gimme,” she said. Her face went from serious to a smile to a giggle. “Very cute.”

“Yeah, very cute. But what do you make of it?”

“A couple of things come to mind.”

“Such as?”

“A sales gimmick? Honesty. Innocence. After hearing her voice, I know I’d do business with her.”

“Maybe you would, but I’m sure there are just as many that think little girls and business don’t mix.”

“Men,” she snorted with a roll of her eyes. “Well, maybe it has nothing to do with business. Maybe Samantha’s Farm is just
what they call the place.”

“Hmm, sounds to me like you’re still pushing for that ride in the country.”

Amy smiled thoughtfully, made a few notes, then closed her pad and dropped it onto the coffee table. Gavin was impressed.
Even if all her material turned out to be a dead end, he was still surprised she’d been able to get it—and so quickly.

He found he was actually starting to relax and enjoy Amy’s company. He raised his glass for another sip, but stopped with
the rim at his lips. He’d heard something—a roaring car engine. It wasn’t far away and it was coming down the side street
across from his house. He sat up and put his glass down.

“What is it?” Amy said.

Gavin suddenly remembered how relaxed he’d been when he was sitting at the aquarium with Grampa. And how he’d been caught
off guard when John Garrity was killed. The engine got louder—closer. He could see the headlights illuminating the front window’s
curtains. In seconds the car would come crashing through…

“Gavin, what are you doing?”

He did not remember leaping toward her, but he had apparently seized Amy and was now shielding her with the weight of his
body on the dining room floor. He opened his tightly shut eyes and looked behind him toward the living room. The lights were
gone. The front wall was still there. The engine sounds were quietly fading up the block. He rolled off Amy and helped her
sit up before looking again at the window, embarrassed, muscles still tense.

“Gavin. You’re shaking.”

“I… I thought…”

“It’s okay,” Amy said, tenderly sliding her hand along his forearm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not wanting to look her in the eye.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she said, gently cupping his chin with her hand and turning his face toward hers. “You
were afraid for me, weren’t you? You tried to save my life.”

“But you weren’t in any danger.”

“But you didn’t know that,” she whispered.

Gavin fought the urge to kiss her. His relationship with her was complicated enough. Besides, he didn’t want to add Amy to
a list of dead loved ones. For one reason or another, people he allowed himself to get close to did not have good life expectancies.
He gently took her hand from his face. “It’s my job to know,” he said.

“It’s your job to know?” she scoffed, pulling back. “You know, there’s a time to work and there’s a time to… not work.”

“Japanese saying?” he said, trying to change the subject.

“Not this time,” she said sternly.

“Look, I like a break as much as the next guy, but as long as that psycho’s breathing fresh air, I ain’t punchin’ the time
clock.”

Amy maintained eye contact with him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

“We have a big day tomorrow,” he said. “Maybe I better give you a ride home.”

Amy clearly looked disappointed, but nodded. “I’ve got my bike.”

“The bike will be safe with me. I promise not to ride away with it.”

19

K
arianne Stordal was sitting upright in her bed, alert on mild oral painkillers, the intravenous gone. The swelling in her
face was barely noticeable and her black-rimmed eyes were almost fashionable. The most familiar people in the room she had
known for less than twenty-four hours.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Karianne?” Dr. Fagan said gently, his hand on her left forearm. Gavin wondered if he
was like that with all his patients, or just the pretty blonde ones.

She nodded. “I suppose so. I want to know as much as anyone.”

The criminal psychologist, Harold Katz, having completed final tests on video recording equipment in the corner of the room,
aimed a microphone at Karianne. He was a tall man of about fifty years who wore a gray suit. His weak chin, large nose, and
deep, droopy eyes made his face appear sad, even when he smiled—like a basset hound, Gavin thought.

Gavin sat at Karianne’s bedside with his back toward the window.
Although he’d already briefed Katz, he wanted to be close enough to communicate with the psychologist during Karianne’s interview.

Chris was in a wheelchair at the foot of the vacant bed next to Karianne. Dr. Fagan had told him he did not think it was a
good idea to leave his bed so soon. Chris had thanked him for his concern. Gavin thought his partner still looked terrible,
but knew there was no way to exclude him. Chris was staring at the sketch that had been derived from the bartender’s description.
The sketch had had a sobering effect on any thought that the killer would be easy to handle once cornered. Earlier, when Gavin
had first seen the drawing, he’d checked his shoulder holster to make sure his gun was with him and loaded. Katz had requested
Karianne not be shown the sketch yet, lest the image of the killer’s face remain in her mind and interfere with the hypnosis.

Gavin drummed his fingers on the windowsill and looked at his watch. It was one-thirty. Where was Amy? She’d wanted to research
the strange word the bartender had heard. How long could that take her? He was getting spoiled by the speed with which she
usually found obscure information.

“Okay, Karianne,” Katz said in an extremely deep voice. “First I must officially inform you of the obvious. This videotape
is now recording our session and will record everything you do or say under hypnosis. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“And we have your permission to proceed?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. This won’t hurt a bit. In fact, you’ll find the entire experience very soothing. As for the rest of you, I have
a few ground rules. Normally, these types of sessions are private, but under the extreme circumstances, allowances must be
made. If you have a question, write it down in ink, not pencil. And write small.
I don’t want to hear any turning of pages. I will expect complete silence throughout the interview.”

Katz placed a musician’s metronome on the rolling bedside table, adjusted the tray’s height, and positioned it over Karianne’s
legs so the metronome was directly in front of her. He released it’s shiny gold arm, letting it swing freely. The room was
silent except for the constant sound of the timer. Tick, tick, tick, tick…

Katz sat on a stool by the bed and folded his hands in his lap. “Karianne, I want you to look at the thin, polished arm as
it moves back and forth. Take a deep breath and exhale.”

Karianne breathed in deeply and blew out as if she were trying to blow up a balloon.

“Good,” Katz lied calmly. “Easier with each breath. Listen to the sound of your air. Allow all your troubles and fears to
flow away in the currents. Relax. Just keep your eye on the moving arm and listen to the gentle beat it emanates.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick…

Katz continued to talk calmly to her about her lungs filling up with anxieties and fears and her ability to release them all
simply by blowing them into the air. Her facial muscles soon relaxed as she sank into the pillows propping her head.

Though he thought some of the credit could be shared with the drugs she was on, Gavin was impressed. Katz really seemed to
know what he was doing. Just ten minutes ago, Karianne had been jittery, her eyes following every movement. Now, with the
exception of an occasional blink, she was motionless.

“Now I will ask you a few questions. All of my questions will be simple, and you will be able to answer them easily. All of
your answers will be correct and you will not worry about making any mistakes. Do you understand?” Katz said in his low, mellow
voice.

Karianne said nothing, staring at the metronome like she was stoned.

“Karianne?”

Nothing.

Great, Gavin thought, reminded of all the times his computer froze or his cell phone lost the signal. Now we have two comatose
witnesses.

“You are hearing my voice and answering in your mind, but you will also answer with your voice. If you understand, say yes.”

“Yes,” she said after a brief pause, moving only her mouth, the golden metronome reflecting in her blue eyes.

Katz nodded in relief. “What is your name?”

“Karianne.”

“And your last name?”

“Stordal.”

“Very good. And where were you born?”

“Fagernes, Norway.”

“Where do you live now, Karianne?”

“Long Beach.”

“You’re doing excellently. All your answers are correct and they will always be correct. Now, raise your left arm over your
head and do not put it down until I tell you. Your arm is as light as a feather. You will not get tired of holding it up.”

Karianne raised her left arm over her head like a child asking to be excused. Gavin frowned, wondering what the purpose of
this exercise was. In his peripheral vision he noticed the door open and close. It was Amy. She came quietly in and sat on
the unoccupied bed. Katz shot Gavin a look and he motioned for the doctor to re-focus on his patient. Amy smiled at Gavin
and discretely gave him a thumbs-up. She apparently had information.

Katz studied his subject. Gavin wondered just what it was he was looking for.

“I want you to keep beat with the timer with your right index finger. Every beat represents a moment in time. But time is
no
longer marching on. It’s ticking backward; with each beat time is regressing. You are going with it. Your mind will be alert
and you will be able to report what you see. Go back. Back to the last flight you were on.”

Karianne remained transfixed on the metronome. Her eyelids began blinking, slowly at first, then faster, until they were fluttering.

Katz nodded silently in approval. “Where are you?”

“In first class,” she said, her voice lower and slower than usual, her arm still in the air.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m talking to Norman Sorenson.”

“Do you know him?”

“Yes. He’s the kicker for the Giants football team. He’s cute. I’m thanking him for the football ticket he gave me. I’ll see
him after the game,” she said, smiling. Suddenly her expression changed. “Uh-oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Another bump. A big one. Clear-air turbulence. The seat belt light just went on. The captain announced— Oohhh! That hurt.”

“What happened.”

“The plane— Oohhh! I wish it would stop. I’m afraid.”

Katz frowned. “Are the other flight attendants afraid?”

“No.”

“But you’re afraid?

“Yes.”

“Have you always been afraid of flying?”

“Not afraid of flying. Afraid of crashing.”

“You think the plane will crash?”

“No. Car crash. Like last time.”

Katz frowned, but before he could say anything else Gavin motioned him over.

“She had another crash about five years ago in Norway,” Gavin whispered in Katz’s ear. “It was very similar and we have reason
to believe it may have been caused by the same driver, but I didn’t know she’d had a rough flight then, too.”

Katz nodded, massaging his chin, then returned to the foot of the bed. “Karianne, you’ve left the plane and now you’re in
the Seahorse Tavern. Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“Is anyone with you?”

“No,” she said. “Just me.”

“What are you doing?”

Karianne didn’t answer. Her hand was still in the air and her eyes were still fluttering, but she remained silent.

“Why don’t you answer?” Katz finally asked. “Are you afraid?”

Karianne shook her head.

“Are you doing something wrong?”

A pause, then a nod.

“You’re ashamed because you’re drinking?”

“Yes.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Too much. The bartender won’t let me have any more. I gave him my football ticket, but he didn’t take it.”

“Then you left?”

“No. A man told him to give me more.”

Gavin reflexively sat up, then looked at Katz, repeatedly pointing his finger toward Karianne as if to say,
That’s him!
Katz nodded and motioned for Gavin to settle down. “What did he look like?”

“Big. Strong.”

“Were you afraid?”

“No. We drank. I wanted to be with him. Go with him,” she said. Suddenly her hand began to lower, then raise again.

Katz frowned. “What’s happening?”

“I feel strange.”

“Why?”

“I’m leaving, but I’m staying.”

Gavin shook his head and waved to Katz. “What’s his name?” he mouthed.

Katz nodded and looked back at Karianne. “Did he tell you his name?”

She frowned, then smiled, then frowned again. Her head was rocking slowly, as if her neck was stiff. Then her eyes stopped
fluttering and instead blinked slowly. The smile came back. “Of course,” she said finally, curiously smug.

Katz looked at Gavin, then back at Karianne. “What did he tell you his name was?”

Again she paused with an arrogant smirk. “Who wants to know?”

“I do!” Gavin blurted angrily. Katz immediately drilled him with a hot glare. He could feel warm blood flushing out his neck.
Who did she think she was and why was she suddenly asking the questions?

Katz exhaled deeply. “You are feeling very relaxed. You do not need to ask questions. All your answers will be correct. Do
you understand?”

“Yes,” she said, with a hint of mocking that left Katz frowning.

“What was the name of the big man at the Seahorse Tavern?”

“Krogan,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice more in control.

Gavin wrote the name down and saw Amy do the same. Strange name, he thought. Chris whispered something to Amy and she immediately
got up with the paper she had just written on and left the room. Chris then brought his right hand to his ear to indicate
to Gavin she had gone to give the door guard the name to call in. Amy reappeared through the door. She hopped back on the
bed and whispered back to Chris.

“That’s all? Just Krogan?” Katz asked.

She laughed. “Krogan is enough.”

Katz looked at Gavin and shrugged his shoulders, then looked back at Karianne. “Then what happened?”

She laughed again, loudly. “
Shadahd,
” she said with feeling, as if the word tasted good to her.

“What is
shadahd
?” Katz said.


Shadahd
is
shadahd,
” she said with authority.

Amy’s eyes were wide, obviously disturbed by what she was hearing.

“You were involved in an accident, Karianne. Do you remember?”

“Yes.”

“Was Krogan driving?”

“Yes.”

“Where did he go after the crash?”

“Gone. Later”

“When is later?”


Shadahd,
” she said again with obvious satisfaction.

Gavin wrote something quickly and handed Katz a note. The doctor read the note, nodded, then focused his attention back on
Karianne.

“Were you ever involved in a crash with Krogan before?” he asked, bracing both hands on the bed.

“Yes,” she said.

Katz looked at Gavin and smiled.

“I want you to go back to that first crash with Krogan,” Katz said.

“The first crash… with Krogan,” she repeated slowly.

“Yes,” Katz said.

Karianne gave what appeared to be a sigh of satisfaction, stretching her neck back comfortably.

“Are you there?” Katz asked.

“Ken,” she said.

“Ken? Who’s Ken?” Katz asked.

“Ken. Rishon maaratsah, Krogan.”

Katz stood upright. He appeared astonished.

Amy wrote the words down in her book.

Katz seemed like he was going to ask another question, but stopped, apparently thinking better of it. He went over to Gavin
and leaned toward his ear. “She answered me in Hebrew.
Ken
means “yes” in Hebrew.

“Hebrew? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. My parents were very religious. I was taught it as a child and have heard it spoken my whole life. I’m not familiar
with the specific dialect she spoke, but it was definitely Hebrew.”

“Why is she speaking in Hebrew?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s dreaming.”

“In Hebrew?”

Katz shrugged.

Gavin rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time for dreams, Doc. Can you get her back on track?”

“I’ll try, but it’s possible all we’re asking is too much for just one interview. The brain, like anything else, needs training
in order to perform well. We could push, but if we want accurate data, a little rest between sessions might be necessary.”

More sessions? Gavin thought.

Katz paced slightly, lifting an eyebrow in Karianne’s direction several times. She still had her hand in the air, presumably
indicating she was still under the hypnosis. She wore a curious, almost mischievous, grin.

Katz leaned back over the bed. “Are you still at the first crash?”

“Ken.”

“Where did Krogan go?”

“Acharon.
Shadahd.

Katz frowned, then looked at Gavin and shrugged again, while Amy took more notes.

Gavin dragged the side of his index finger across his throat. Katz nodded in agreement.

“I want you to come back to this time, Karianne. Back to the hospital.”

The smile that lingered on her face faded and her eyes began to flutter again.

BOOK: Driven
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