Page 123 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

“I understand that it’s hard, but…”

She shook her head. “It’s not that it’s hard. It’s impossible. I can take all the time in the world, but I will never be able to picture in my mind what I saw in that alley last night.”

Frustration and curiosity tangled in his head like hissing, feral cats. In the end, curiosity edged out frustration just enough for him to be able to speak calmly when he asked, “Why not?”

“Because I have aphantasia.”

“Aphantasia.”

“That’s right.” She played with the edge of the gray blanket, working it between the fingers of one hand.

“What does that mean?”

“I have no mind’s eye. I can’t visualize anything in my head. I tried to explain that to the other officer, but he didn’t seem to believe me.”

Yeah. Hoover. Not the greatest bedside manner. He wouldn’t have hesitated to tell Jules he thought she was lying. Dante’s forehead wrinkled. Didhebelieve her? Was this aphantasia actually a thing? It did sound vaguely familiar, like he’d heard something about it a long time ago, although he’d never met anyone with the condition. Certainly not the sole witness to a violent crime. “So, when you said you didn’t note what color hair he had…”

“That’s how I remember things. I take note of them in my mind. Memorize facts. Log them into inventory. Last night, after what I had seen and with the guy advancing toward me, I wasn’t able to note much. Only that he was big and that he was a white guy. Other than that, I only remember the smell of the garbagein the dumpster and the sounds I heard—the woman screaming, scuffling, and then that creepy ringtone.”

A shudder rippled through her, as though the smell and the sounds she remembered carried strong emotions along with them. Was the use of senses other than sight to help recall a situation the way people with this… condition compensated for their lack of mental visualization?

Before he could ask, she let go of the blanket and buried her face in her hands. “I should have tried to get to her. I could have done CPR, revived her, maybe.”

The agony in her voice ripped through his chest. Dante leaned over the table a little. “Jules. Look at me.”

For a few seconds, she didn’t move. Then she slowly lowered her hands, resting her forearms on her bent knees. “What?”

“You couldn’t possibly have gotten to her. The murderer was between you. If you had tried, he would have killed you too. There was nothing you could have done.”

Her shoulders slumped a little, and she nodded slightly. “Where do we go from here?”

“Think hard. You didn’t note anything else about the man? His eyes, the shape of his face, his nose, any distinguishing marks?”

Her head jerked a little. “He had scratch marks on his cheeks. From the woman. His arms too, I think. I did note splatters of blood on them.”

“He was wearing short sleeves, then.”

Her eyelids fluttered as though she was attempting to flip through those notes she’d made in her head. “He must have been.”

“Okay. That’s good, Jules. If we’re able to track him down, those details could be helpful. Anything else?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve given us what you could.”

“Am I free to go?” Jules lowered her feet to the floor and unwrapped the blanket from around her shoulders.

“Of course. Do you want me to drive you home?”

She blinked at that, as though she hadn’t expected that it was police protocol to drive witnesses home from the station. Which, of course, it wasn’t. Despite how terrible their encounter had gone the night before, Dante was worried about her. It sounded as though the guy she’d seen in the alley had gotten a really good look at her, and it was unlikelyhehad aphantasia. No doubt he’d memorized every detail of her face. He’d also shown an astounding lack of concern about her seeing him, which was a bad sign.

What did he plan to do, come after her? Silence her the way he had the other woman before Jules had a chance to testify against him in court or identify him in a lineup? Could she do that, with her condition? She must be able to recognize people when she saw them again, even if she couldn’t recall their faces when they were apart, right? Otherwise, she’d never know a friend or a family member when she saw them.

Of course, she’d known him as soon as he walked into the room. Could be because he’d dragged strong emotions in with him as well—and not the pleasant kind.

A memory drifted through his mind, of her holding her phone in Dante’s face when she first walked up to their table, his own image staring back at him. It made sense now that she’d had to keep glancing at it as she searched for him in the pub, if she couldn’t picture in her head what he looked like.

“Dante?”