Twice Dead - Catherine Coulter [107]
Sam. What to do?
She watched Tellie Hawley get himself together. He cleared his throat, looked directly at her, and said, “Ms. Matlock, we’re here to speak to you in detail about your time with him.”
“I’m very sorry, Agent Hawley, but I’ve told you everything I know. I wish there were more but I can’t come up with anything else, even irrelevant.”
Agent Hawley sat forward in his chair, his hands dangling between his legs. “The mind is a marvelous instrument, Ms. Matlock. It takes in stuff you’re not even aware of. We’re betting you do know more about Krimakov. You just don’t remember it on a conscious level. We’re hoping it’s lurking in your subconscious. Ah, Agent Cobb here is an expert hypnotist. He’d like to take you under, really get at what this guy was like, maybe even what he looked like. You know, stuff you’ve blocked out or you’re not even aware that you know, stuff you can’t bring up to a conscious level.”
Agent Cobb handed her the old photo of Krimakov. “You’ve seen this?”
“Yes, of course. My father showed it to me immediately, the aged photo as well. I’ve studied and studied it. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if it’s him. I never saw him. He was always in the shadows.”
“Look again at the aged photo.”
She took it, studied it yet again. She still saw an older man, whose face was lean and deeply tanned from years of living on the Mediterranean. His hair had receded, leaving two deep slashes of tanned scalp on either side of a spear of gray hair. His eyes were dark, his features Slavic, wide, flat cheekbones. He looked like he could be a very nice grandfather. And she wondered: Is that you? Are you the one who took me from Jacob Marley’s house? Did you lick my cheek? She handed Agent Cobb back the photo. “I have thought and thought. I really don’t consciously remember anything more. I’m willing to go under.”
“Are you sure, Becca? You don’t have to.”
She glanced toward her father, who was standing behind a chair, looking at her intently. She didn’t know that very handsome man with all those expressions on his face that she didn’t understand, but then, she realized that she did know him; on a very deep level, she knew him quite well. It was a very strange feeling. “Yes, sir”—her voice was steady—“I’m sure.”
“All right, then,” Agent Cobb said, looking directly at her. “There’s nothing to be concerned about. I don’t go for the couch thing. I prefer the traditional face-to-face method.
“Now, there are also many different ways to hypnotize someone. I use the fixation object method.” He pulled a shiny pocket watch out of his vest pocket. For a moment he looked embarrassed, then shrugged. “It belonged to my grandfather. I’ve always worn it, discovered a couple of years ago that it was the perfect object for me to use to relax people. Now, I want you to sit back and look at this watch, Becca. Just listen to the sound of my voice.” He started talking, nonsense really, his voice low and smooth and never rising, never falling, always the same. She stared at the watch that was swinging gently back and forth, back and forth. “You will find that your eyelids have a tendency to get heavy,” he said in that singsong soft voice. “That’s right, just look at the watch. See how it’s moving so slowly right before your eyes?”
Agent Cobb continued reciting a familiar litany to everyone in the room. His voice stayed low and smooth and very intimate. That damned watch kept swinging back and forth, shiny, gold, swinging. Adam had to shake his head and look away. He was getting drawn under.
Five minutes later, Becca was still staring at the shiny gold pocket watch, listening to Agent Cobb’s voice telling her about how her eyes were going to close now, how she felt good, and comfortable, how she could just let herself drift. But she didn’t. She tried desperately to relax, to get with the program, but she couldn’t. All she could see was Sam, that sweet little boy, holding out his arms to her, smiling but hardly