The Memory Thief

Chapter3

Chapter 3 – “The Blank Spot”

Dorian Voss sat in the sterile police interview room for the third time that week, and it still felt wrong. The smell of old coffee and bleach clung to the walls. The two-way mirror stared back like an accusation.

“Again,” Detective Lin said. She was young, maybe 29, with the kind of exhaustion that came from cases that went nowhere. “What exactly is missing?”

“August 14th,” Dorian said. His voice was flat from repeating it. “Mara’s 16th birthday. I was there. We were at Rivermouth Beach. She can’t remember it. The hospital records show a 24-hour gap. No vitals logged, no nurse notes. It’s like that day didn’t happen.”

Lin tapped her pen against the notepad. “People lose time when they’re sick, Mr. Voss. Chemo, painkillers, fever. It happens. Your sister was terminal.”

“Mara wasn’t on anything that day,” Dorian said. He leaned forward, hands flat on the table. “She was clean. She was happy. We spent the whole day together. She fell off that surfboard six times. I’ve got the photos. And now she can’t tell me why she was smiling in them.”

Lin sighed. “I’ve pulled your old files. You were good. Best in Homicide before you quit. But this isn’t a crime scene. There’s no blood, no forced entry, no drugs in her system.”

“There’s a missing day,” Dorian said. “That’s enough.”

She stopped writing. “Mnemo crimes don’t get solved, Mr. Voss. Not unless someone admits it.”

Dorian froze. “Mnemo crimes?”

Lin realized she’d said too much. She closed the notepad. “Old slang. Forget it. We’ll file a report, but without evidence, it’s a missing person case for a day that’s already gone. I’m sorry.”

The interview ended with nothing. No case number. No priority. Just a door closing behind him.

Outside, the rain hit him like a wall. He stood on the steps of the precinct, phone in hand. One lead left: Nurse Carla Mendez. She’d been on shift the night Mara’s records went blank. She quit two days later. No forwarding address.

Dorian opened his old contacts app. He wasn’t a cop anymore, but cops remembered him.

Meanwhile, 12 floors up in a building across the river, Kael Ryn watched the news on mute.

Dorian’s face filled the screen, grim, holding a photo of Mara.

“My sister is missing a day of her life,” Dorian said. “If anyone knows anything about a man who visited her in the 48 hours before she died, contact me.”

Kael’s stomach dropped. The envelope of cash from Broker sat unopened on his kitchen counter.

His phone buzzed.

You’re on the news. Sell it now or Dorian will find you.

Kael stared at the message. Sell it. 100k. Problem gone.

But every time he reached for the beach memory, it pushed back. Warm. Loud. Alive.

He thought of his sister. The last thing she’d said to him before he drove drunk was “I’m mad at you, Kael.” He’d never gotten another day to fix it.

He couldn’t do that to Mara.

He shut off his phone, pulled the curtains, and sat in the dark.

If Dorian found him, he’d have to decide what he was willing to lose.

Sell it now or Dorian will find you. The warning echoed, and Kael knew he wasn’t fast enough.