The Memory Agent & Fool Me Once

by Kane, Joany

  Claire ends the call and takes a seat next to the bed. She waits. And waits. Hours go by. She dozes off. Another hour goes by. The ring of her cell-phone awakens her. She sees that it’s Gary from the CSI fed unit calling and answers the call. “What do you got?”

  *****

  Claire rushes into the FBI CSI lab and joins Gary. His eyes widen when he notices how ragged she looks. “With all due respect, Special Agent…”

  “I know. I look like crap. Tell me what you got.”

  “We found the fourth bullet. It was lodged in the siding four feet above and three feet to the right of the doorway to the jewelry store.” Gary informs Claire.

  “High and wide.” Claire calculates.

  “This bullet came from the same gun that shot the fatal shot.”

  “Duke Reeves' gun?” Claire asks.

  “No. Presumably Riker’s gun. The same make and model as Duke's gun. Duke's gun shot the wounding shot to agent Langer, not the fatal shot.” Gary approaches a computer monitor. “Based on the body positions and bullet trajectories, this is how we believe the scene went down.”

  Gary displays a crime scene reenactment image on a large computer monitor. “Once Riker obtained the jewels from Victoria he headed towards the motorcycle that was parked here.”

  Gary points at the computer monitor. “Agent Langer exited from the back door of the store and made it as far as where he fell here.”

  Gary points to a different location on the monitor. “Duke Reeves must have come from this direction and positioned himself between Riker and agent Langer.”

  Gary continues to point out the computerized reenactment on the screen. “The first bullet shot was the one that landed in the siding. The next two shots were probably fired fairly simultaneously and those two shots were the shot fired by agent Langer that hit Duke and the wounding shot fired by Duke.

  “Riker shot the fourth shot, the fatal shot that hit agent Langer. Agent Langer only got one shot off, and he may have been aiming at Riker who was standing here.” Gary points at the screen. “Duke either was in the way or got in the way.”

  “So Duke could have taken a bullet for his brother much like he took the fall for him three years ago.” Claire infers.

  Gary continues. “What's curious is Victoria's statement. She claims that once she gave Riker the bag of jewels he told her that he really didn't have her son and then sauntered, didn't hurry, towards the motorcycle.”

  “Why would he do that? Why would he expose the one piece of leverage he had over her unless he wanted to get discovered? He must have figured she would have screamed as she did.” Claire thinks aloud.

  Claire paces, continuing to share her thoughts with Gary. “Maybe he wanted agent Langer out in the alley to engage him in a gun fight. He must have assumed that the security guard was an undercover agent since Moose, the informant, was killed. That's why Riker shot Langer in the head and not the chest. He would have figured he was wearing a vest.

  Claire stops her pacing. Her face goes pale. “Riker shot to kill.”

  Gary speculates. “It's interesting he picked the very day Moose was killed in jail to hit the jewelry store.”

  Claire’s eyes flare. “That's no coincidence.”

  “But why? What's his motivation? Is he playing us? Is he now enjoying the thrill of the kill after having killed that one store owner?” Gary asks.

  “I don't care about his motivation, I'm going to nail him.” Claire, determined and consumed with her mission to get Riker, storms out of the lab.

  *****

  Duke, comatose and handcuffed, lays motionless in bed.

  Claire enters his room. She takes a seat by the bed. She removes a binder from a shoulder bag and opens it, it's a dossier on Duke Reeves. She flips through it, looking at various photos of Duke as a baby, kid, teen, young adult.

  She notices how cute Duke was as a kid, how innocent and hopeful he looked. She then looks at Duke in bed. He still has an innocence about him. She quickly removes that thought from her mind. She settles in to reading about Duke and his life. She stays by his side, learning all about him, for quite some time.

  As she's immersed in Duke's dossier he stirs. Claire puts the materials down and watches as he opens his eyes. Duke's expression is one of confusion tinged with fear and vulnerability, which catches Claire off guard.

  “I can't see.” Duke says with fear in his voice.

  “Maybe you just need a moment to adjust.” Claire reassures him.

  “No, it's all dark.” He reiterates with anxiety.

  Claire stands up and moves closer to Duke. Duke tries to sit up, feels that he's chained to the bed, which distresses him. “I can't see and I'm chained to a bed. What the hell is going on? Where am I?”

  His distressed state threatens to loosen the medical equipment hooked up to him. Claire attempts to calm him down. “Take it easy. You're in the hospital. You've just had brain surgery. The vision issue is probably a result of the surgery.”

  “Why am I chained to the bed?”

  “You're handcuffed because you were part of a jewelry store robbery.”

  “What?! I did what?”

  “You don't remember?”

  Duke looks as if he's processing information, but his mind is blank. He doesn't remember. He shakes his head no.

  “Do you remember your name?” Claire asks him.

  Again he thinks and comes up empty. “I can't remember. I can't remember anything.”

  Now he's really distressed. Claire gently places her hands on his shoulders. She leans in close to him and guides him back to lying down. She tenderly touches his face to calm him. “Your name is Duke Reeves.” She says quietly.

  Claire's super close proximity and actions have an instant calming effect on him. He takes in her scent. “Jasmine. I smell jasmine. I remember jasmine.” He relaxes, Claire's scent and closeness inspiring serenity. “Thank you, nurse.”

  Claire's eyes widen processing Duke's mistaken identity reference.

  “Will they come back, my sight and memory?” He asks.

  “The doctor will know, I'll go get him.”

  As she moves away from Duke he grabs her hand. “Not yet. I don't want to be alone just yet. Please don’t leave.”

  “I'll stay with you.” Claire reluctantly offers.

  Duke settles down. “Thank you.” He continues to hold onto her hand.

  Claire looks curiously at Duke, she certainly wasn't expecting him to be so vulnerable, sensitive - and captivating.

  Outside of Duke’s room a cop sits in a chair by the door guarding the room. Claire leaves the room, closing the door behind her. She sees the doctor near the nurses’ station. She approaches, joins the doctor, and interrupts his conversation with one of the nurses. “He's out of the coma.”

  The doctor excuses himself from his conversation and turns his attention to Claire. “Sooner than I anticipated.”

  “He can't see, nor does he remember anything.”

  “Not surprising. Those are usually temporary side effects from the type of surgery he had.” The doctor informs Claire.

  “When will he get his memory back?”

  “Hard to tell. Could be hours, days, weeks.”

  “Weeks!?” Claire does not want to hear that.

  The doctor heads for Duke's room. Claire doesn't follow him, she's lost in serious thought, processing the information and contemplating how to proceed. Her face lights up with an idea. “Doctor!” She calls out.

  The doctor stops and turns his attention back to Claire. She joins him. “Can memory be triggered back into place by smells, tastes, sensory things?”

  “Yes. That can happen.” The doctor confirms.

  “Duke Reeves thinks I'm a nurse. I'd like him to keep thinking that.”

  Judging by the look on his face the doctor isn’t sold on the idea.

  “Please. We need to catch a killer and that man in there is our only link.”

  The doctor relents with a sigh. “Providing
your actions in no way impede the hospital staff's efforts. And you limit your play acting to night shifts.”

  “Understood.” Claire nods.

  *****

  Claire hurries into Whitmore’s office, again without knocking, joining Whitmore by his desk.

  “Duke Reeves is out of the coma. He can't see, nor does he remember anything. Most likely temporary side effects from the surgery according to the doctor. He thinks I'm a nurse and I told the doctor I want him to continue to think I'm a nurse.” Claire informs Whitmore. “I'm requesting an undercover assignment.”

  “How is this going to help the investigation?” Whitmore wants to know.

  “Duke did three years for his brother, most likely took that bullet for his brother. The guy is loyal as Lassie, he's not going to turn on his brother.”

  “And playing Florence Nightingale is going to capture Riker how?”

  “It'll allow me complete access to Duke. I'll work to trigger his memory while befriending him. I'll gain his trust, get him to lead me to his brother.”

  “I don't like it. I guess that doesn’t really matter does it. Nor does my authorization. I’m sure you’re planning on moving forward with your plan no matter.”

  Claire softly implores Whitmore. “Please, Whit. Duke is our only connection to Riker. I need to make this happen. I need to get Riker.”

  “Fine.” Whitmore concedes.

  “Thank you.” She smiles at Whitmore before heading for the door.

  “Do you want to get together tonight?” He asks.

  “Rain check. I need to get back to the hospital.”

  Whitmore, stung by Claire's blow off, issues a warning. “I'd warn you not to get too close to your mark, but getting close has never been a problem for you.”

  Claire, carrying shopping bags and her shoulder bag, enters her condo. She walks through the living area, across the rug where she and Whitmore had been intimate.

  She reaches her desk, a desk covered with FBI folders and files. Next to the desk is a presentation board covered with clippings and photos – all regarding Riker Reeves.

  Claire takes down every single one of the photos and clippings about Riker from her presentation board. She places the photos and pages in a slender file box.

  Claire then removes the dossier on Duke Reeves from her shoulder bag. She takes photos of Duke and relevant pages from the binder and hangs them up on the presentation board. The board is now all about Duke. She studies the board, focusing on one page in particular, Duke’s schedule while on probation.

  Probation Schedule: Mon-Fri, 9-5, mechanic at Custom City Cycle Fridays, noontime meal at Florence Diner. Same meal each Friday, chili, French fries, chocolate milk shake.

  Claire removes nursing garments - scrubs and white sneakers - from the shopping bags. She takes off her clothes, the same outfit she’s been wearing for at least the last twenty four hours, heads into the bathroom and hops in the shower.

  Once showered she throws on the nursing clothes, does up her hair and examines the transformation in her mirror. The final touch, Claire dabs Forbidden, the jasmine smelling perfume, on her neck.

  *****

  Back in the hospital, Claire, holding a to-go bag, approaches the nurses’ station. Has dinner been served to Duke Reeves yet? Claire inquires.

  “Not yet,” a nurse responds, looking suspiciously at Claire.

  “May I serve him chili, French fries and a chocolate milk shake?”

  “Sure.” The nurse answers, still suspiciously.

  “Where do I find a tray and utensils?”

  The nurse points, “down the hall.”

  Claire, carrying a dinner tray with the meal arranged on top of it, enters Duke’s room.

  Duke seems to be asleep, but as soon as Claire has entered the room, he turns his head, takes a deep breath and then smiles.

  “Jasmine. You're back.”

  Claire notices the smile. The handsome, heartfelt smile. “Hello, Duke. How are you feeling?”

  “Still can't see or remember.”

  “I have dinner.” Claire places the tray on the bedside table and positions the moveable table in front of Duke.

  “I’ve put the tray on the table in front of you.” She tells him.

  Duke struggles to sit up. “Here, let me move the bed for you.” Claire hits the button on the side of the bed moving Duke and the bed into a more upright position.

  “Thanks.” He smiles.

  Claire moves the table closer to Duke. He fumbles with his left hand, his uncuffed hand, in search of the tray. Claire guides his hand to the tray and food. “We have French fries, chili and a chocolate milk shake.” She tells him.

  Duke finds a fry and eats it. He then finds the milk shake and takes a sip. Duke feels the bowl of chili and the spoon next to it. He picks up the spoon and attempts to scoop out a spoonful of chili and eat it but he ends up spilling it on his bare chest.

  “Any chance I can get this 'cuff off so I can eat?” Duke politely asks.

  “Sorry. I don't have a key.” Claire wipes the chili off of Duke's bare chest. As she does she catches a glimpse of a tattoo on Duke's shoulder. She opens wider his hospital shirt to get a better look. “You have a tattoo on your shoulder.” She tells Duke.

  “I do. What is it?”

  “It's surreal.”

  “Meaning...”

  “I think you're a fan of Salvador Dali.”

  “I hope I get to see it and remember it.”

  “You will.” Claire encourages tenderly.

  Duke struggles again for another spoonful of chili.

  “Let me help.” Claire offers. She feeds him a spoonful of chili. He chews and swallows. She feeds him another spoonful. He relishes the taste. “Is today Friday?” Duke asks.

  Claire smiles at his question, pleased that her plan to help trigger memories may already be working. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “I don't know why but it seems like Friday.”

  “Maybe you used to have chili and French fries on Fridays.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “When I was a kid, I used to have clam chowder with my dad on Saturdays.” Claire shares. “He'd take me to this little seaside clam shack. Had the best chowder, really creamy and clammy, not too many potatoes. I'd load it up with tons of saltine crackers.”

  “Tons, huh.” Duke responds, bemused.

  “At least five of those little cracker packets that come with take out soup. I'd crumble the crackers and pile them in the soup so it was thick like stew.”

  Duke eats a French fry. As he chews the fry he has a pensive look.

  “What is it?” Claire asks off of his look.

  “I think I have a memory. I think I used to tear up my fries and put them in the chili, like you did with the crackers in the chowder.”

  “Would you like me to fix the chili like that for you?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Claire tears up some fries, mixes the pieces in the chili and serves Duke a spoonful. He enjoys the bite. “Yuup, I used to do that.”

  Claire serves Duke a couple of more spoonfuls. She studies his face, he looks so content enjoying the chili and fries. It’s a very intimate moment between them.

  “You should try a bite. The fries make it like a stew, like your crackers did the chowder.” Duke offers with kindness.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I'm pretty sure that would be against hospital policy.”

  “Well, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble.”

  “I don't mind living dangerously. Just not at dinner time,” Claire jests.

  “I'll remember that,” Duke returns in jest.

  “Hey, there we go, the makings of a new memory.” Claire responds. The comment causes Duke to smile wide, with one corner of the grin a bit higher than the other. Claire’s caught off guard by Duke’s warm expression.

  She looks down at the food and away from Duke’s face. She scoops up another spoonful and is about to feed him when he asks her a question. �
��Do you know anything about me? What I did? If I have any family?”

  “I'm sorry, I don't. The only thing I've been told is that you were part of a jewelry store heist.”

  “Did I shoot anyone?” His voice cracking with worry and regret.

  Claire studies the remorseful look on Duke's face. “I really don't know. I'm pretty new here, and very low on the nursing totem pole. Probably because I'm not that good at it.”

  “Not the best admission to make to a patient.” Duke playfully chides.

  Claire counters with an equal amount of tease. “Don't worry, I won't mix up your meds.”

  She pauses for a moment before adding, “Hopefully.”

  “As long as you keep wearing jasmine, I'll forgive anything.” Duke responds with so much sex appeal it causes Claire to blush. She tries to brush off her emotional response and retain her focus. “What if I switch to lilacs?”

  “That might be unforgivable, I’d have to think about it.” He teases.

  Claire spoon feeds Duke another couple of bites of chili. He takes a sip of the milkshake when his expression takes a serious turn. Claire notices.

  “Are you remembering something?” Claire asks, inspired by Duke’s look.

  “No. I'm not sure I want to remember. At least about being a criminal. I don't want to be a criminal.”

  “You're not one right now. You're just a guy who likes Salvador Dali and fries in his chili.”

  Fumbling, he tenderly finds Claire's hand and squeezes it in his. “Even though you know what I've done, I don't hear any judgment in your voice, only kindness. You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

  His words and actions knock her way off guard. “It feels easy to be kind to you,” she replies honestly, shocked at herself for confessing that. She tries to regain control by turning the focus back to the meal. “Ready for another bite?” she asks, her voice quivering a touch.

  “Yeah, thanks,” he replies.