Page 21 of Remember Me

“Why did your wife go out that night?”

“She told me it was for work. She was working on a big story.”

“Did she tell you anything about it?”

“She was very secretive about it. She often was when it came to her stories.”

“I see. Was there anything unusual about your wife’s behavior that night?”

“She seemed a little on edge.”

“Was she wearing her work clothes?”

“She was a little dressed up.”

“Like how dressed up?”

“A mini dress and high heels.” I don’t tell them she looked hot as hell.

“Like a hooker? No pun intended.”

His words affront me. “No, my wife could never look like a... prostitute.”

“Like she was going on a hot date?”

I swallow my anger and emphatically tell them again that she was working on a story.

“Did you believe her?”

I hesitate. Do I tell him that I had my doubts? That it was thethirdtime that week that she got all dolled up in a seductive black dress and fuck-me shoes. That in the back of my mind, I thought she might be having an affair.

The detective reads my mind. “You’ve heard of the seven year itch. Do you think your wife was having an affair?”

A bitter mix of anger and doubt sizzles through me. “I don’t know. I mean NO.”

“Is there anyone who would want to harm her?”

“She was an investigative reporter. She made a lot of enemies. But I don’t think she ever had a death threat.”

“We found a pepper spray dispenser near the wreck.”

“Skye always carried pepper spray or mace. It was part of the job. It made her feel safer.”

My eyes stay fixed on the detective as he retrieves something from his coat pocket. A dented gold tube of lipstick. I don’t recognize it. Skye always wore lip-gloss that she brushed on with a wand.

“We also found this at the site of the crash. It was one of the few other things that survived it. Well, more or less.” I watch as he clicks the base.

An angry, gruff voice: “Kill the bitch!”

Shocked, I can’t form words.

“Do you recognize it?”

I shake my head though the voice sounds vaguely familiar. At least it’s not mine.

“Can you identify the voice?” I ask anxiously.

“Unfortunately, it’s distorted. And not enough to run through our voice tracking software.”