The Color of Trauma

Dean waited until everyone had viewed the photo, because he didn’t want to give them the opportunity to refuse.

Beth looked last, and she studied Brittany for several seconds. “She seems nice.” Then she walked the photo back to him.

“Her name is Brittany Kolchek,” he said. “She’s in a coma.” As a group, they cringed, even Kiera. Good—they cared. “The doctors say she won’t wake.”

“You don’t want information. You want one of us to jump into her memories,” Kiera said, her face as hard as her voice.

“We believe she’s the third victim of a serial killer targeting young women. All three scenes have little physical evidence. This might be our only chance to catch a break.” When nobody spoke or moved, he added, “He’ll kill again.”

“Would it work?” Nadira asked Kiera. “Going into a comatose woman’s memories?”

Kiera shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It isn’t ethical. She can’t give consent.”

“I talked to Brittany’s parents, Sarah and Sam,” Dean said, giving their names to personalize them. “They gave approval already. They’re desperate to have her killer caught.”

Kiera sighed. “A memory isn’t like a medical record. Someone else can’t give permission to intrude like that.”

“It ain’t like she can get embarrassed,” Beth said.

Kiera rubbed her thumb between her eyebrows, as if to stave off a headache. “She’s still got to give up the memory.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“We can’t just read minds. The person has to let us in. Consent. If she’s in a coma, I don’t know if she can do that.”

He kept his voice even. “Would one of you be willing to try?”