Changing Course (5 page)

"Oh my God, Brett. Isn't she like seventy-five years old?" Manda asks in disgust from across the table.

"Seventy-eight, actually. But we need to go close this one out. It shouldn't take long, we just need to see her wrinkly face and take a statement that she was never really missing. Seven million pages of paperwork all because granny got horny."

The girls let out loud “Ewws” in unison while Caleb and I stood to leave.

"I'll meet you back at the house, sweetheart." I leaned forward, kissing Sarah's forehead while tucking a stray blonde hair behind her ear.

"Okay, y'all be careful. Love you, babe."

"I love you too."

We both kissed the girls one last time, clueless to the fact that in less than two hours one of them would be dead, and the other would be lost forever.

W
E WERE
talking to Mrs. Reynolds when our pagers started going off. I excused myself to the other room, while Caleb continued to take her statement. The words scrolling across the screen marked the end of what I knew to be my life, and would haunt my dreams for years to come.

Single Car accident on I290 near Damen Ave. One fatality and one seriously injured. Silver Honda, 2 women mid 20's. Det's Jones and Sharp required on scene immediately.

"Caleb!" I cry, bolting toward the car as the words
one fatality
flash behind my eyelids with each blink. I jump into the car dialing Sarah's number, hoping for a miracle. I am desperate to hear her sleepy voice pick up the phone, while she lays tucked safely in our bed. Her voicemail picks up and my heart drops to my stomach.

"Oh shit! This is not happening," I whisper to myself. Taking a deep breath and scrubbing my hands across my face, I try to pull myself together enough to drive.

My head starts to swirl with scenarios that would leave them both completely unharmed. Maybe they just got carried away talking and are still hanging at Westies. Maybe they went to see a movie after dinner. There's a bar just two doors down from the restaurant, maybe they went there. I pick up my phone to call her one more time, praying this time she will answer. In my gut, I know it’s just wishful thinking.
One fatality and one injury.
I start the car, barely slowing down as Caleb jumps inside.

"It's not them, Brett."

"Did Manda answer her phone?"

"No, but I just know it. It's not them."

"It's them. I can feel it," I say, staring straight ahead and weaving through oncoming traffic.

"Shut the fuck up, It's not them goddamn it!"

"Silver Honda, two women in their mid-twenties, on the exact route they would take home?" I say with an eerie calm to my voice.

"It's not fucking them!" Caleb screams at the top of his lungs while punching the dashboard. He then grabs his phone frantically trying to call every patrol cop he has on speed dial. But no one answers his calls.

We drive the rest of the way in silence.
One fatality and one injury
. A few miles out from the accident, I stop hoping that it isn't them in that car. Instead I do the most horribly selfish thing I will ever do in this lifetime.
One fatality and one injury
. Looking over at Caleb sitting with his head in his hands, I don't feel one bit of guilt as I start praying it's Manda who is dead.

When Caleb and I arrive at the scene, there are ambulances everywhere. I could see Sarah's car folded in half around a tree. It took everything I had not to throw up at the very sight. I'm not sure how either one of them could survive a wreck that severe.

My car barely slowed before Caleb was out running toward the mangled heap of metal. I wasn't but five steps behind him. Off in the wood line, I could see the sheet covering what I knew to be a body.

"Oh God, please. Please don't let that be her." I chant to myself making my way to the wood line.

As I squeeze between police cars and ambulances, I'm suddenly shoved from the side and fall into an open ambulance. Dave Young, a street cop I knew from the academy and the only man on the force bigger than me, shoves me the rest of the way into the empty ambulance. He quickly shuts the door and yells for the driver to go.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I say, lunging towards the back of the ambulance, ready to claw my way out if I have to. I look out the window just in time to see Caleb drop to his knees on the side of the road before I feel the ambulance start to speed away.

"You don't need to be there for that, Brett," Dave says as the familiar siren screams into my ears.

"Where's Sarah?"

"She's probably at the hospital by now. Left a few minutes before you got there. She had a heartbeat and was breathing but they couldn't get her to wake up. They worked on her for a while, she's got some pretty deep cuts on her arms and legs. She was thrown from the car. She's banged up, but I heard from Dan that she started mumbling something just before they loaded her up. That's a good sign, Brett."

"Holy fuck." The relief I feel at his words leaves me light-headed. I lean back trying to catch my swirling head and steady my racing pulse. As the adrenalin leaves my body, my hands and legs begin to shake and tears pool in my eyes.

"Alright man, get it together. We're only a few minutes from your woman, and now would be a shitty time to show her what a pussy you really are," he tries to joke.

I let out a relieved laugh, forgetting all about the heartbreak that is taking place just a few miles behind us.

Brett

W
HEN THE
ambulance pulls into the emergency entrance to the hospital, I jump out running, with Dave hot on my heels.

"Slow down, Sharp. You know they aren't going to let you see her yet."

"I just need to know what's going on," I say just as I step up to the desk, pulling out my badge flashing it to the nurse. "Sarah Sharp, she was brought in a few minutes ago after a car accident. Where is she?" I bark, more anxious than angry. I pinch the bridge of my nose impatiently as she starts typing on the computer.

"Sir, she doesn't have a room assigned yet. Give me a minute and I'll ask the doctor where she is."

"Forget it," I snap, motioning for her to buzz me through the doors into the emergency area. She pauses, unsure if she should let such an obviously unstable man into the back. Looking over my shoulder at Dave for some sort of answer, he motions for her to let us in.

Dave darts in front, stopping me by shoving his hand into my chest, "You have to calm down! I know you're upset, but no one is going to tell you where she is when you're acting like this. You're scaring the nurses. Even if you do find her, do you think her seeing you this crazy is going to help her? Take a deep breath and chill the hell out!"

He's right. I know he is. But a few minutes ago, I thought my wife was dead. I just need to lay my eyes on her to truly convince myself that she's okay. I take a deep breath and allow Dave to take the lead asking doctors and nurses for Sarah's whereabouts.

Finally, a doctor informs us that she is awake and they are running a CT scan. He leads us into her room while we wait for her to return. In the corner, draped across a chair, is a plastic bag where they placed all her belongings. I reach inside and pull out her jewelry, trying to find something that will make me feel close to her right now. I just need something of hers to hold, something tangible to ground me. I decide on her wedding rings, but the first thing I pull out is a silly half of a heart that says, "Be Fri." I know that Manda has the other half, and when joined together it says, "Best Friends." The girls wore these silly necklaces everywhere. While I would love to tell you they have had them since their middle school years, the truth is they bought them last year while away on vacation together.

"Oh God, Manda." Suddenly, it hits me that she's gone. I fall back into the chair, tears springing from my eyes. "This isn't happening."

Dave’s leaning against the door jam, allowing me just enough privacy without actually leaving me alone.

"Where's Caleb?" I manage to choke out.

"He's with the body, they got here a few minutes ago."

"I need to find him."

"No, you don't. You need to be here for Sarah when she gets back. There is nothing you can do for Jones right now."

Again, I know he is right, but that doesn't stop the stabbing pain in my heart at the very thought of what Caleb is feeling right now. I sink deeper into my chair trying to calm my nerves by reminding myself that Sarah is alive and well. I'm the lucky one in this situation. That's a joke though. This hurts too damn bad to feel lucky about anything.

An hour later, they wheel in a battered woman who barely resembles my wife. I jump out of the chair and the moment our eyes lock Sarah bursts into tears. I rush over, needing to hold her (although by the way she looks, it's going to hurt like hell). As gently as I can, I lean over her bed drawing her face into my neck.

"What happened, Brett? No one will tell me anything. They just keep telling me I was in a wreck, but I don't even remember being in a car. Everyone keeps staring at me, and I can't help but feel like I'm missing something here."

"Shhhh, it’s okay baby. I've got you now," I whisper into her blood-streaked hair. I realize this is the only comfort she has before I have to tell her all about the accident.

"S
ARAH, CALM
down."

"Who was driving the fucking car, Brett? I swear to God, if you don't tell me, I'm going to get out of this bed and ask Caleb myself."

"You have to calm down, or the doctors are going to kick me out."

"Who was driving the fucking car?" she screams with a guttural intensity that makes me know she will make good on her threat of asking Caleb. The last thing in the world she needs to do was talk to Manda's grieving fiancé.

"We don't know, beautiful. Witnesses at the restaurant said you were driving, but the first on scene said it was a redhead behind the wheel. You were both thrown from the car, we honestly don't know." I try to explain as gently as I can.

"Oh my God, I killed her. I killed Manda!" she yells slapping her hand over her mouth and dropping her chin to her chest.

"Hey, stop! You didn't kill her. Even if you were driving, you did not kill Manda." I move closer, trying to find a part of her body to rub that isn't covered in a bruise. I fail miserably, instead deciding to just lean my forehead to hers.

"Get out," she whispers from behind her hands.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

"Get the fuck out of my room. I don't want to look at your face right now." Her tone is filled with hate, a strain in her voice that in all of our seven years together, I have never heard her use.

I look around the room, clueless as to what to say or why her rage is aimed at me. Just as I decide that maybe leaving is the best option if she is going to be this upset, she starts hitting the nurse call button and screaming for help. I stand rooted to the ground as she unravels in front of me.

Kicking and screaming, she starts trying to get on her feet. She hysterically starts to remove her IV and other monitoring wires, but only succeeds in reopening the gash on her arm. I watch frozen as blood drips down to the floor. Finally, I snap out of my stupor and grab her battered body to restrain her movements.

"Jesus Sarah, what are you doing? Stop it. You're going to hurt yourself."

"Get your fucking hands off me. Get out!" She starts flailing her legs and banging her head against the back of the bed when I manage to pin the rest of her body down.

The nurses run in, pushing me out while they try to sedate her. I stand outside her room in a fog, replaying the last few minutes over and over in my head. Despite how long I stand there, I can't figure out what set her off like that. Did I say something, or is this just survivor’s guilt running its course? I can't imagine what I could have said. She didn't even react that wildly when we told her Manda didn't make it.

A few minutes later Dr. Lee walks out and stands directly in front of me. "She's asleep," he says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his scrubs.

"What the hell happened in there?"

"Mr. Sharp, I have no idea. You have to understand Sarah's body and brain have gone through a lot. She is grieving the loss of her friend while trying to heal herself. Sometimes the heart takes a little longer than the brain to heal."