Dying Wishes: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Shelby Nichols Adventure Book 14)

by Colleen Helme

  He nodded. “I can’t imagine.”

  “I’ve thought about telling him the truth.” Dimples’s head jerked my way. It shocked him that I’d even think about it. “I know… it’s a bad idea. But it would be nice to get help from a real professional, you know?”

  “Yeah… sure, I get it, but I don’t think you should do that. If it was someone who didn’t work for the department, then maybe you could risk it, but I’d say no.” He was thinking hell no, with an exclamation mark.

  “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, and I swallowed. Brock was here, but I had no idea how that was going to help. What was I supposed to do? The scent grew, nearly overpowering me, and I glanced at Dimples. “Do you smell anything?” I whispered.

  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 anything?”

  “No. After leaving the bar, everything was murky. I only picked up that she was terrified, but not why. Did the hospital do any bloodwork on her?”

  “Yes. But I haven’t seen the results yet.” He glanced over his shoulder and pulled out onto the street. “Do you think she was drugged?”

  “Yes… it’s the only thing that makes sense. But what drug would make her forget everything?”

  “I don’t know. Rohypnol, or “roofies” are the usual suspect in this kind of case, but they wouldn’t make her forget everything. So it must be something else. If she got a drink at the bar and someone spiked it, that could explain a lot. At least it’s a place to start.”

  “True. You should see if you can get the video of the bar to go along with the others you already have. Oh… and you need to make sure Willow knows that Sophie’s not our killer.” I knew that Brock wouldn’t have been there trying to help her if she’d killed him… at least I didn’t think so.

  Dimples sent me a sideways glance. “You sure about that? I mean… if she doesn’t remember, and you couldn’t pick it up, then why are you so sure she didn’t do it?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling.”

  Dimples smirked, thinking that line was right out of Willow’s playbook.

  “Hey… not fair.”

  “I know… sorry. Okay… I’m going to back you up on this. We’ll go on the assumption that Sophie didn’t do it. Willow’s not going to be happy, but I will defer to your gut feeling over hers any time.”

  He sent me a smile. “When she finds out you got Sophie to talk, she’ll be doubly upset.” He was thinking that he could hardly wait to see the look on Willow’s face.

  It would be gratifying to see, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be around when it happened.

  We drove in silence for a few miles, then Dimples glanced my way. “Thanks Shelby. I knew bringing you in on this would help.” He shook his head. “But what was with that Armani cologne thing? Did you pick it up from Sophie’s mind? That Brock wore Armani? And what about the song? I think that’s what brought her out of it… and I have to tell you—it was pretty freakin’ weird. I felt chills on the back of my neck.”

  “Yeah. It kind of freaked me out too.”

  “So, he wasn’t really there like you said, right?”

  He didn’t look at me, hoping I’d tell him I’d done it to trick her into talking. Since I kept my mouth shut, he continued. “What? You saying he was really there?”

  I didn’t want to lie to him, since he’s my friend and all, but I picked up plain as day that he really didn’t want to know I could hear dead people. With that attitude, what was I supposed to tell him? On the other hand, he couldn’t seem to let it go; must be the detective side of him.

  “I know you get a little spooked sometimes, but… you didn’t see him or anything, right?”

  “No. I didn’t see him, that’s silly. But I may have smelled the Armani.” I blew out a breath. “Let’s just leave it at that, all right?”

  “Sure.” He kept his gaze on the road, but I picked up that he was a little shocked. All this time we’d worked together, and I had kept this from him? He’d thought we were close. Partners didn’t keep huge secrets like that. If I could see ghosts, I should have told him.

  “I can’t see ghosts,” I said, throwing up my arms. “But sometimes I can hear them… in my mind. It must be part of the whole mind-reading thing. And before you get all upset that I didn’t tell you, I’ve hinted at it… you know I have. It’s just not something I’ve wanted to talk about… mostly because it doesn’t happen very often and it freaks me out.”

  His brows drew together. Thinking back, he knew I was right. How could he forget those times when I’d bee
n freaked out at the precinct when I’d worked on cases from the dead files? As that popped into his mind, it all made sense.

  It also reminded him of those two skeletons they’d found under that house I’d wanted to buy. At the time, I’d claimed that I was just extra-sensitive, but I must have heard those kids. Deep down, he’d suspected that, but since I hadn’t admitted it, he’d brushed it off as being a little too creepy.

  “So if you heard Brock, what did he say?”

  I shrugged. “Basically what I told Sophie. I only heard a few words, mostly that he was there and he loved her.”

  Dimples shook his head. “Wow… that’s… insane.”

  “Yeah… it always creeps me out. But it doesn’t happen often, even when I think it might, so it’s not something I can predict.”

  “Hmm… but if you could actually talk to the murder victim… couldn’t he tell you who killed him? That would sure make things a lot easier.”

  Oh hell. It was a good question. One I’d considered myself. But it just didn’t work that way. At least not for me. “That would be nice, but it’s not like that. Sometimes I hear a song… and other times it’s a word or two. But what I picked up from Brock today was the most I’d ever heard at once. I think it was because of Sophie’s condition and the intense feelings going on in the room. After this, I doubt that I’ll hear him again.”

  “That’s too bad. I mean… maybe not for you, but for finding the killer.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. I think those small things I picked up could help immensely.”

  “Oh yeah… right… of course they could.” He hoped he hadn’t offended me. He hadn’t meant to. Then his thoughts turned to Willow, and he wondered if her abilities included sensing ghosts. It seemed like she may have mentioned something like that… hadn’t she said she was into mysticism? He’d dismissed it, but if she went to the house, would she sense Brock there?

  “So you think she could do a better job?” That came out a little louder than I’d intended.