He shook his head. “Like what?”
Before I could answer, Sophie’s shoulders stopped shaking. She pulled away from her mother and glanced around the room. “Can you smell that?” Dimples and Mrs. Sanchez both frowned, each unable to smell anything.
I nodded. “Yes. Armani cologne, right?”
“Yes,” she said, her gaze catching mine. “He wore it… a lot. It was my favorite.”
“I know this sounds strange, but, maybe he’s trying to tell you something.” I waited a few seconds before continuing. “Maybe he wants you to know that he’s okay. And… he’s watching over you.”
Sophie’s contorted face relaxed, and she sat back on the couch. Tears still ran unchecked down her cheeks, but she felt Brock’s presence. He was in the room, and a calm wave of peace settled over her. Pain lanced through her heart, but it was more bearable now. She knew something terrible had happened. But she didn’t remember. What was it? More than anything, she needed to know why Brock was dead.
Focusing back to that night, she began to speak. “We were meeting at the hotel. It was our anniversary, and Brock said he had something special planned. But something came up at work, and he was running late, so I checked in and waited for him at the bar. He didn’t want me to go to our room before he got there, because he had a surprise for me.”
She shook her head, and her brows crinkled. “I’m not sure what happened after that. I think I went to our room, but it’s fuzzy, like a dream…”
“Did you order a drink?” Dimples asked.
“Yeah… I’m pretty sure I did.”
Dimples waited for her to continue, but she had nothing more to add. “So… you think you went to your room, but you’re not sure?” At her nod, he continued. “Do you remember leaving the hotel?”
“I… I’m not sure.” Her thoughts were jumbled, but I managed to pick up her growing anxiety that something had terrified her. Even now, her heart began to pound with fear. “I know something terrible happened, but I don’t remember what it was.” She let out a helpless breath. “What’s going on? Why can’t I remember?”
“It must have been the shock,” her mother said. “The doctor said that a terrible experience can trigger this kind of response. That must be it.”
Sophie’s brows drew together, and she closed her eyes for a moment. “But I remember going to the hotel, and the bar. Why can’t I remember the rest?” She glanced at Dimples. “Tell me what happened. How did I get here?”
Dimples explained that she was spotted at a nearby bus stop. “You were sitting on the bench, covered with blood, and the driver thought you were dead. He called nine-one-one, and you were taken to the hospital.
“We think that you must have left the hotel after Brock was killed. It was his blood on your clothes. You’ve been in a trance-like state ever since… well, until now.” He studied her face. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?”
“No. I don’t. I’m sorry. I wish I did, but it’s a complete blank.”
“That’s okay,” I said, hoping to reassure her. “You’ve remembered a lot. Maybe it will just take more time for it to all come back.”
Sophie nodded, then darted her gaze to mine. “So… what happened? You said I was covered in Brock’s blood. What happened to him?”
“He was attacked in your room and stabbed.” I didn’t tell her how many times he’d been stabbed, since it was bad enough already.
She inhaled sharply. “So… I must have been there? But why didn’t they kill me too?”
“We don’t know,” Dimples said. “And nothing was taken. All your things were still there.”
“But I don’t understand.” Her voice shook with panic. “Why would someone kill Brock?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Dimples caught my gaze. Was she faking it? Had she killed her husband?
I shook my head. If she had, she didn’t remember. I turned her way and spoke slowly. “I believe you. I believe that you don’t remember what happened. But it looks… bad… and we have to look at everything and everyone. That’s why we were hoping you’d remember something that would help us catch the person who killed Brock. You were the last person to see him alive… so…”
Her face went white. “Wait. You think it was me? I would never—he was my husband. We loved each other. It was our anniversary.”
Dimples raised his hands in a calming gesture. “Sophie. We know you’d never mean to kill him, but somehow he ended up dead, and, as far as we can tell, you were the only one there. Can you see how that looks? That’s why we were hoping you’d remember something… anything.”
Mrs. Sanchez huffed out a breath, filled with indignation. “My daughter is the victim here. You need to find the person who killed Brock.”
“Please,” Sophie said, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t remember, but I would never kill my husband. I loved him, and he loved me. Someone must have come into our room and killed him. Please… find the person who did this. I need to know what happened.”
“We will,” I said. “We’ll figure this out, I promise.”
With anguished eyes, Sophie glanced between the two of us and nodded. “Thank you.”
“If you remember anything… anything at all, please call me.” Dimples handed Sophie his card. He opened his mouth to tell her not to leave the city, but I spoke before he could.
“We’ll be in touch.”
With a broken heart, Sophie could only nod, too caught up in her grief to speak. “We’ll let ourselves out,” Dimples said, and I followed him out the door.
In the car, we slipped on our seatbelts, and Dimples started the engine. “That was rough. So… she really doesn’t remember
