The Memory Therapist - ONC 2020

Chapter Eight

I enter the office with Phil already sitting behind the reception desk. "Good morning," I greet. 

It's strange, but last night's conversation doesn't seem to have changed anything. Well, besides the fact that I need to pretend that I have feelings for Phil. I pretend a lot though, so surely this isn't going to be that different. 

"Ray," he smiles softly over the counter. Last night might not have changed anything to me, but it's clear that everything has changed for him. 

We stayed out late drinking last night, creating a game plan for dealing with the detective. Most of Phil's ideas are flawed and would surely get myself caught, but I showed enough gratitude that filled his pride for the rare thought he did have that was decent. I don't need his help though, at least not in the way that he's offering it. 

I've had a game plan since he let me know that he is obsessed with me. I just need him to stay on my side until I can use him. 

"Not in too much pain I hope," I force a flirtatious smile to my face. 

"Not this time." Normally I would think it bold to assume that there would be a next time, and I would very much tell a man that, but I know that I need him. 

"Can't wait for next time," I wink as I enter my office, closing the door to block his view of me. I try to push his lips and his touch out of my mind, but I can't help but wrinkle my nose in disgust. It may have only been a goodnight kiss, but it was not something that I relished happening frequently. 

I move to sit behind my desk, opening up my folder that holds all my memories. I click on one and search the properties to see if what Phil told me last night is true. To compare, I open a simulated memory from another folder. 

As Phil said, he's altered the information attached to the memory somehow. He has removed the uploaded information and faked a downloaded information. That means that I can trust him for the time being. But I need to see where this information will lead Charles if he comes looking for it. 

I press the intercom button and say, "Phil, can you please come here for a moment." 

He comes in seconds later, a boyish smile on his face despite trying to appear professional. "What is it, Dr. Clowd?" 

"Close the door." When he does, he approaches my desk and sits across from me. 

"You checked." It wasn't a question, but his voice was hurt. As if it was unbelievable that I would investigate what he told me further. Not like this is an immense secret that we now share or anything. But I can't get defensive now. Everything I know about stalkers is that their obsession can turn dangerous with a flip of a coin. 

"Phil, I didn't check like that," I keep my eyes locked on his and adjust my tone accordingly, as if he has hurt me with such an accusation. "I wanted to learn what you have done so that if I am questioned, I don't sound like an idiot. Considering I am the one who supposedly downloaded these from some site." 

"Of course, I'm sorry." He seems bashful at least for assuming the worst in me. Even if the worst is the correct thing to assume. 

"Where do these numbers lead? Where does it say that I got these memories from?" 

"It's untraceable." 

"That doesn't look innocent, Phil." 

"It does for our line of work." I wait for him to continue. "No normal person posts these memories for just anyone to find. Sure, the dark web isn't ideally for the sane, but it makes sense why you would venture there. We don't exactly deal with the sane. It will also explain why you didn't provide the details of the exact site." 

Interesting. Perhaps he does have more use than I originally planned. "Are these memories uploaded somewhere now?" I try not to sound frustrated with his scheme, but the idea of someone else using my memories for whatever purposes they want makes me angry. I wouldn't get the credit. Perhaps not for making them, but for using them for good. 

"No." I try not to visibly react in anger. It seemed like a good plan, but even I could see the big fucking hole in it. "Sites change all the time on the dark web. It's not uncommon for these sites to be changing locations frequently, or changing their servers, etc."

I force myself to not let my doubt show or to look relieved at his words. I smile and say, "then I guess it's time to call the detective so that I can appear to be cooperating with the investigation." 

"You're right. Better that you approach him with the bad news then wait for him to suspect you more and receive it." 

"Thanks, I can handle it from here." Phil takes his leave without any issue and I pick up the phone and dial the inspector's number. It only takes two rings before I hear his voice. 

"Detective Maison." I smirk, knowing that he is trying not to sound desperate. As if he's at work and didn't look before he picked it up. 

"Charles, it's Ray." 

"Oh, Ray. How are you?" Men are so transparent. 

"I'm good. I thought about what we discussed at lunch yesterday. I need to confess something..." 

"What?" there's hesitation in his voice. He doesn't want to hear what I have to say, as he assumes the worst. If only people knew how right their worst assumptions were about me. 

"I do know where I get the memories from," I say sheepishly. 

"Oh." He's clearly relieved that that is my crime. "Where?" 

"The dark web. Now, before I get a lecture you need to understand that I have to visit there for this job." 

"That makes sense. I had a feeling that's where you got them." I guess that helps me that I am just confirming his own feelings. 

"Well, there's more bad news." I force myself to sound regretful. "Phil showed me the download information - it shows where the memory came from." 

"That's great, Ray! We have a solid lead -" 

"Charles, I said bad news. It was taken down. The dark web has to change constantly. They change sites and IP addresses so that it's harder to pinpoint the exact location or have any trail," I repeat the words that Phil just gave me moments ago. 

"Shit," he sighs. 

"I know. I was hoping that it would still be up, but even a few weeks is a long time for that kind of information to stay active." I have no idea if that's true. I can only hope that he doesn't question me on that further. 

"There's no user name that you constantly see with these videos?" 

"It's anonymous." 

"Shit," he sighs again. "This day could not get any worse." 

"It's just started, I don't see how -" 

Before I can make a joke he interrupts, "there's a new victim." My heart stops at his words and I hold my breath in anticipation. "Ray?" 

"Yes, I'm still here. I just wasn't expecting that," I recover smoothly. 

"Unfortunately, I was. Think you can come to the crime scene? Perhaps you can see something that I can't. I've been here all night, so a fresh pair of eyes can't hurt." 

"I'll head right over." He provides the address and hangs up. 

"What's wrong?" Phil is standing in the doorway. With how silent he moves around, it almost doesn't surprise me that I have never noticed him stalking me around before. 

"That was Detective Maison." I make sure to use his professional name. I don't need Phil going crazy because I used his first name. 

"Connors?" How he knows I can't even guess. I simply nod. 

"I have work to do."