Memory...
That was why I'd come here, besides dropping off the Cobra. Gabriel was busy, and I needed a quiet place to have a conversation with myself. A place to reflect on what I'd gotten from Johnson and untangle that collage of his memories.
I sat by the pool. The sun glistened on the water, and I recalled a recent e-mail from my mother, telling me she'd had the pool opened if I wanted to use it. I would, with Gabriel. It might make the house feel a little less abandoned.
Now I sat on the edge, my boots off, leggings rolled up, legs submerged to mid-calf as I peered into the water, as if it were a scrying glass.
What did I learn from Johnson?
He knew the Nansens. While the evidence was far from conclusive, it was enough for my gut to say, yes. He knew Alan Nansen ran Eclipse, and I suspected he knew Heather came from a wealthy family, given his reaction when I said my family knew hers. Yes, of course they did.
If Gabriel were here, he'd point out that I could be misinterpreting the data. Ioan had passed judgment on Johnson for the murder of Alan Nansen. If Johnson remembered the Hunt as a nightmare, might he have not looked up Nansen's name? Learned that Nansen owned Eclipse? Learned that Nansen's wife came from money? And then, in light of that nightmare accusation, deny he knew anything about the crime or the people involved?
Sure...except that I'd skimmed his phone data and found browser history of him reading articles on Nansen's murder before the Hunt. He'd been monitoring the case, and he'd known enough to delete that browser history, but not enough to hide his cyber-tracks altogether.
So Johnson was involved. But was that enough to say, yes, the Hunt should take him?
Not yet.
I peered into the water, and I cleared my mind, using some meditative techniques I'd been learning. Focus on the only source of irrefutable data: the vision I'd stolen from Johnson's memory.
Four scenes.
The first, as he was driving the other night, right before he hit Lloergan.
The second, checking his cell phone and watch after the accident set off his airbags. He must have been considering whom he should call, given the hour. A tow truck or a friend or someone from the dealership?
In the third segment, he was running from the Hunt.
The fourth was Johnson reading about Nansen's death in the paper.
The last one didn't add anything new. Nor would I get any fresh information from the Hunt, considering I'd been there. I'd also been present for the accident when Johnson saw Lloergan and--
No.
Well, yes. I'd been there, but this memory was different.
Driving along. A DJ on the radio.
Light.
I'd seen light.
There hadn't been any lights on that empty road, which was why Johnson didn't see Lloergan until the last moment, hitting his brakes just in time to spin out and avoid her.
That was right--he never hit her. But in the vision, his car struck something. A crunch. Then it spun.
The problem with seeing someone else's memories was that we constantly adjust our recollections. If Johnson thought he hit another car, could he have reworked his memories to fit? Imagined headlights? Recalled the crunch of metal on metal?
But he hadn't hit Lloergan. His airbags never activated.
So why would Johnson think he'd hit another car?
Something else about the vision wasn't right. I replayed the few seconds of mental video over and over until--
The steering wheel.
A tan steering wheel in a black Audi? Not an impossible color combination, but odd enough that it made me focus on that wheel. On the emblem in the center.