“Okay then… I’ll keep it to myself.”
“You can always talk to me… I mean… I’m no professional, but I’m your friend, and I might have a different perspective on some things that could help.”
I sent him a grateful smile. “Thanks… I’ll keep that in mind.”
“We’re here.” Dimples pulled up in front of a small home in a nice neighborhood. At the door, he rang the bell, and we waited. A woman in her fifties, with sorrowful eyes, recognized Dimples from the hospital and opened the screen door.
“Hi Mrs. Sanchez, this is my colleague, Shelby Nichols. Could we talk to Sophie?”
“Do you have any news?”
“We’re working on it, but nothing yet.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Come in. She’s still not responsive, so I don’t know how much help it will be, but you can try.”
We followed her inside to a small living room, where Sophie sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. Her eyes held that vacant stare, like no one was home. It chilled me to find her like that, and I knew she wasn’t faking it. Her mom gestured toward a couple of chairs facing the couch, and we sat down while she sat beside her daughter.
“Has she spoken at all?” I asked.
“No. She responds to my commands, but it’s like she’s not all there. The doctor at the hospital thought her catatonic state was brought on from witnessing… Brock’s… murder.” She was thinking that whatever Sophie had seen, it must have been horrific, and, as much as she wanted her back, she knew it would be a painful reckoning.
“So bringing her here didn’t help?”
“No. But she hasn’t lived here for about five years. She and Brock have their own place.”
As she said his name a second time, the back of my neck tingled. A slight breeze ruffled my hair, and the scent of Armani cologne tickled my nose. I knew Dimples didn’t wear it, so I swallowed and glanced around the room. The windows were closed, so where had the breeze with that scent come from?
“Maybe taking her to her own house would help her wake up,” Dimples said, trying to be helpful.
Mrs. Sanchez nodded. “I suppose, but it was all I could do to bring her here. I’d hoped coming home to someplace where she felt safe would bring her out of it, and taking her to her own house just seemed cruel. But… maybe that would have been best.”
The smell of Armani came again, bringing with it a sense of urgency. I pulled away from the conversation and concentrated on the scent. The room grew cold, and a heavy presence settled by my side. Tell her I’m here. Tell her she’s safe and I’m okay.
Chills ran down my spine, and I jumped a little. Holy hell. Brock was right here beside me? Grateful I hadn’t yelped, I glanced at Mrs. Sanchez and licked my lips. “I’m going to try talking to her. Is that all right?” So far, I hadn’t picked up anything from Sophie’s mind, but, with Brock sitting right next to me, I had to try.
“Of course,” she agreed.
I moved to sit beside Sophie on the couch, feeling Brock’s presence follow me. “Sophie. Can you hear me?” I listened real close and felt a stirring of awareness.
Reassured that I was on the right track, I said her name again, using a no-nonsense tone of command. “Sophie. You’re safe now. It’s okay to come back. I know you don’t want to, but it’s time. We need you to help us. Brock needs you to help him.”
Both Dimples and Mrs. Sanchez jerked a little, but I ignored them.
“Brock liked to wear Armani cologne. Can you smell it? He… Brock wants you to know that he’s here, watching over you. Remember that song he liked to sing to you?”
In the back of my mind, he’d been singing something familiar, so I listened real close until I heard it clearly. “Love Me Like You Do. Remember that song?”
I waited, hoping for a response. “Sophie, Brock’s okay, and he wants you to wake up. He loves you. He will always love you. Now… wake up.”
Her eyes blinked several times, and she took in a few deep breaths, like she’d been drowning in a sea of dark water, and she’d suddenly come up for air.
Mrs. Sanchez moved to a kneeling position in front of Sophie and clasped both of her hands. Sophie blinked a few more times, then focused on her mother’s face.
“Mom?”
“Sophie!” Her mom’s voice shook, and she hugged Sophie tight before pulling away. “You’re back. Oh thank God. I’ve been so worried about you. You’ve been through so much, and I’m so sorry, but it’s going to be all right now. I promise.”
“What… happened? Why am I here?” She glanced at Dimples and then me. “Who are you?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Dimples asked
Sophie shook her head, and I picked up her sudden dread. Deep down; she knew it was bad, and her heart began to race. Did she really want to remember?
“Something bad happened, didn’t it?” Her breathing turned shallow, and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. She couldn’t think straight. What had happened? Her gaze turned toward her mother. “Where’s Brock? Mom… where is he?”
Mrs. Sanchez shook her head, and her eyes filled with tears. “Sophie—honey, I’m so sorry.”
“But—” She turned her frantic gaze my way, then to Dimples, and her wild eyes flashed with sudden clarity. “No. He can’t be dead.”
“Sophie.” Mrs. Sanchez wrapped her arms around her daughter and sat beside her on the couch. “I’m here, sweetheart. We’ll get through this.”
As she stroked Sophie’s back, she whispered soft words of comfort. All at once, Sophie crumpled against her mother in aching sobs. They clung to each other and cried. Their pain and grief brought tears to my eyes. Crap. This was horrible. Listening to their sobs tore at my heart, and tears ran down my cheeks. I dashed them away, but they kept coming.
The scent of Armani tickled my nose again,
