Page 21 of Dirty Girl

Emily is being hauled out of the building in handcuffs. Apparently, she stabbed an orderly with a plastic fork she had broken into a makeshift shiv two nights ago. Then she escaped the mental hospital using his credentials.

Once I’m alone in the penthouse, I take in the changes. Dylan has been slowly making this place her home. Adding little touches here and there. Everything personal to her is gone. I feel the hard edges of the diamond cut into my palm from how hard I’m squeezing my fist around it. She didn’t have much since most of her things are in storage, but the few framed photos of her parents and the music box that was her mothers are gone.

Her side of the closet is nothing but empty hangers and the drawers are empty, save for a couple of my tee shirts she had claimed for her own.

Gone. She’s really gone.

I reach into my pocket for my phone and dial her number. It rings once before connecting to her voicemail. Her melodic voice asks me to leave a message.

“Dylan, call me.”

I hang up and send a text: Call me.

I’m out of the building and roaring from the parking lot before I even hit send. I dial and redial her number as I drive toward my parent’s place, hoping that is where she went. By the time I get to their house I’m desperate to see her. When I don’t see her car in the driveway, I practically lose it. With her missing and not answering my calls, I’m ready to go out of my mind.

I spot Jackie’s car in the garage and hope blooms in my chest. If anyone knows where Dylan is, it’s Jackie.

“You fucking bastard!” Jackie yells viciously. Tears streak her face and she’s holding a crumpled piece of paper in her hands. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“It’s not what it looks like.” I explain the situation with Emily and slowly Jackie’s anger fades, only to be replaced by sadness. “Please, Jacks, please tell me where she’s at. I have to fix this. I have to.”

Jackie’s shaking her head in disbelief as she hands me the paper that was clenched in her fist.

Dear Jackie,

I’m so sorry for leaving without saying goodbye, but I can’t risk you talking me out of this. I came home to find Jenson’s pregnant fiancée in our bed. I knew it was too good to be true. I can’t stay now. I’ll never survive watching the man I love with another woman.

I’ll get in touch once I get settled somewhere.

I love you.

Dyl

I look up from the paper, my vision so blurry I can hardly focus on the devastation written on my sister’s face. “We’ve got to find her. Where would she go?”

Until now, that’s been the million-dollar question.

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