Chapter Two
AJ pulled his BMW onto the street, checking both ways for traffic. Wiping away the last of his stubborn tears, he reached down and changed the CD to Haydn's third track. Serene music filled the car, and AJ leaned back against his headrest. Driving always did him good, especially now that he never had a ridiculous amount of alcohol in his bloodstream whenever he took the drivers' seat.
He stopped at the signal, flicking on his left indicator. The sharp ring of his cell phone interrupted Haydn's peaceful symphony. Growling, AJ turned down the volume and switched on his car phone set.
"AJ?"
"Skye? What's wrong? Anything change with Emily?"
"Well-"
"Yeah? Come on, what?"
"Well, literally one or two minutes ago, her eyelids flickered, and she made a strange face, as if she was having a bad dream. As if someone was hurting her, or something was causing her pain."
His heart jumped, threatening to pound out of his chest. "And? What happened? What did mom and dad do? Any change in her condition, then?"
"Well, no."
Instantly, his heart sank. Shoulders drooping, he sighed and waited for the rest of her explanation.
"Just as mom and dad jumped up to check her vitals, she dropped out again. They didn't know what it was, if it was some type of sign, anything. We know…nothing."
"Oh."
"AJ? Hon? You there?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
"What are you doing?"
"Waiting at this damn signal. It's taking forever."
"AJ, I didn't really know if I should ask, but where are you going? Why'd you leave?"
He chuckled sardonically. "Don't worry, Skye," he said reassuringly. "I'm just running home to get that Captain of My Dreams book Em loves so much."
"Oh."
"I'll see you in a bit, okay? The light just changed."
"Ok. Bye."
"See you later, Sis."
He switched the phone set off and moved forward, turning his car carefully into the left lane.
He didn't get too far. The sight before him had him slamming on the brakes in a matter of seconds.
The BMW screeched to a stop, despite the fact AJ hadn't been driving considerably fast. He switched into Park and gawked at the scene before him.
Courtney sat dazed inside her car, gripping the steering wheel with a deer-in-the-headlights look in her bright blue eyes. Her hair was a mess, cascading down her shoulders, and her mouth hung agape. The front fender of her Mercedes was almost detached at the left, and hanging loosely at the right. Headlights smashed, glass sprayed across the road, grille misshapen and twisted. And she just sat there.
AJ surveyed the damage, estimating tens of thousands, at the very least.
But as he turned his head to the right, his estimate shot up. Way up. As did the bile in his throat.
A smoky gold Acura Legend was slammed flush against a lamppost, which was now bent by thirty degrees. The drivers' door was heavily indented to the point where he immediately realized it would take emergency metal cutters to extract the driver.
If the driver was even alive.
Smoke was rising from the smashed hood of the Acura, and he judged the accident couldn't have happened too long ago. Maybe even a couple of minutes.
Well, literally one or two minutes ago, her eyelids flickered, and she made a strange face, as if she was having a bad dream. As if someone was hurting her, or something was causing her pain.
He jumped out of his car, leaving his keys in the ignition. Within seconds he was directly between Courtney's car and the small Acura. His ex-wife's eyes met his, and he saw the unchecked fear in them.
"Drive."
Her lashes fluttered. "W-what?"
"Drive. Get out of here."
"W-where?"
"That gas station on Roosevelt. Drive there. Pull into the alley behind it and wait for me." Without sparing her a second glance, he raced toward the crushed car, trying to decipher any movement inside.
Courtney gingerly pressed down on the gas, and when the car drifted forward she pressed harder, tearing away from the scene of the accident and disappearing in the distance. It was a relief her car still worked, and she thanked God profusely as she spotted the filling station. Mercedes' were tough cars, as her brother always said. They'd protect you through thick and thin. They were like tanks. Freaking tanks.
She pulled into the driveway, stepping up her "Hail Mary"s when she saw it was pretty much deserted. Slowing in the sheltered alley, she shut down her car and rested her head on the wheel. And waited for her ex-husband.
"Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit shit shit shit shit."
He dared to venture a few steps closer, squinting in to decipher the slightest of movements.
"I'm a freaking idiot." Cursing himself for not having done it sooner, AJ yanked his cell phone out of pocket, flicking it open.
"Port Charles Police Department, Joy speaking."
"There's an accident on the corner of Van Buren and Taft."
"Any injured?"
"Yes –yes. I think there's someone trapped in one of the cars. She's trapped bad – and knocked out."
"Were you a witness to the accident?"
"N-no. I just pulled up and saw her car slammed against the light post."
"What about the other car?"
"There is no other car. I'm guessing that driver lit out of here as fast as possible."
"I'll be dispatching police cars immediately, as well as an ambulance."
"Y-yes, please hurry." Switching off his cell, AJ took a step closer.
The window was shattered through completely, while the windshield was a mass of spiderwebs with large chunks having fallen through. Grimacing, he squinted more, focusing in on the chocolate colored steering wheel and head compartments.
"Oh, shit."
A mass of golden brown tangles shielded the top part of the wheel from view, and two hands were gripping the bottom portion. Two pale, alabaster, delicate hands. With fire engine red nail polish. And a small dot of a birthmark on the left wristbone….
"Oh, shit."
He stumbled back, dazed by his premature discovery. His anxious eyes focused out only to take in the entire view lain out before him.
Acura. Smoky gold. 1994 or 1995. Destroyed. Pale hands. Brown hair. Birthmark. No no no no no.
Racing to the back end, AJ searched for the license plate. The red letters AND Y NOT glared boldly back at him, sparkling with stark contrast against the white background.
As if someone was hurting her, or something was causing her pain. 1994 Acura. Hands. Brown. Wrist. Plate. No no no no no.
His mind reeled in circles, refusing to grasp what was already before him. Collapsing to his knees on the littered pavement, AJ ran his hands through his hair, head downcast and eyes squeezed shut.
"No, Elizabeth. Not you, too."