Stolen Course(11)

“Are you drunk right now?” I pause, edging toward the door.

“What? No!” she screams.

“You sure?” I ask again, pulling open the front door.

“I’ll never drink again,” she solemnly swears, but it does nothing to quell the flame burning inside me.

“Sarah, I’m going to destroy you the same way you did me, even if it’s the last thing I do in this life. Now get out,” I repeat as I extend my hand, showing her Manda’s half of the necklace.

Her eyes light before her whole face crumbles in despair. She rushes toward me, ready to claim her reward. But as far as I’m concerned, there will never be a reward for her. I turn just as quickly and sling my arm as hard as I can toward my front yard. Her eyes go wide while trying to track the necklace’s trajectory, but the darkness cloaks everything.

“No!” she screams, rushing outside.

I slam the door behind her and move toward the window to watch her scramble. She frantically starts searching the grass, collapsing to the ground for a better view. I watch with a sick sense of triumph as she pulls her cell phone out of her pocket for extra light. I smile to myself before walking back to the door, casually flipping off the outside lights and heading for bed.

I stay awake for hours, constantly looking out my window. Sarah must have combed every inch of that yard, and I took great pleasure in watching her look. By the time she finally relents, her knees are covered in mud and her face is streaked with tears.

Five hours after she pulled into my driveway, Sarah pulls out of it.

Thirty seconds after she leaves, I reach into my pocket, pull out Manda’s necklace, and gently place it back on her nightstand. Right where it should be.





FOR FORTY-EIGHT hours, I’ve done nothing but think about Emma Jane Erickson. I’ve tried everything to stop, but the brief memories from my dream won’t let me go. I can’t figure out what it is about her that consumes my every thought. You know, if I don’t count her Victoria’s Secret runway model good looks. Fuck, I couldn’t jerk off enough to forget how she looked running down that hospital hallway. Trust me. I tried.

My visit to Lisa made things even worse. She usually helps me forget everything. She’s great in bed, even if she is crazy as a circus sideshow out of it. This time, even she couldn’t dull the ache in my body for Emma. I’ve almost broken my phone twelve times calling for updates about Sarah. I needed a reason to dial Emma’s number, but I had nothing new about her sister to share.

Finally I caught a break this morning. It seems Sarah’s neurologist got involved in her criminal investigation. I have no doubt that the pixie finger that dialed that doctor’s number was any other than Jesse Addison. She is hell-bent on saving Sarah, even if it is from afar. She has this silly notion that Brett needs Sarah to be okay. Truth be told, Brett just needs Jesse. Sarah isn’t even a blip on his radar anymore.

I’ve been sitting on my couch for forty-five minutes staring at my phone. Debating on what to tell Emma. Of course, I’ll tell her the truth, but how do I sugarcoat it? Fuck it, I’m just going to do it. She doesn’t strike me as a woman who needs to be coddled.

“Hello.” Her smooth Southern drawl slides through the phone.

“Emma?”

“Hey, Caleb. I’m so glad you called. I’ve been worried sick. What’s going on?” She jumps right to the point of the call.

“Sarah’s fine. She’s still in the hospital. Sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”

“She’s still at the hospital? Why? I thought they were taking her into police custody?” she shrieks across the line.

“It seems her doctor got involved, and he’s keeping her there, claiming she’s incompetent. He’s basically cock-blocking the police from touching her.”

“Oh my God, Caleb. That’s fantastic news!” she says so excitedly that I almost want to be happy with her. I can’t though. Sarah belongs in jail, if for no other reason than what she did to Manda.

“Yeah, so we are just waiting to see what happens with her doctor and attorney tomorrow.”

“Caleb! I wish I could kiss you right now!” she screams through the phone.

“Oh yeah? I should call more often then.” I laugh at her enthusiasm.

“I’ve been sick all day about the idea of Sarah sitting in a cell. This is the best news in days. I’m getting drunk to celebrate.”

“You calling up all your girlfriends and going out or staying in for your little celebration?”

“I don’t have many girlfriends. My two best friends are guys. They are always up for getting drunk.”