Page 2 of Man of the Year

Emily… You don’t call me that. You call me Em. Emily is for when you are upset or withdrawn.

“I love you, too,” I say, though this time, I’m lying.

The drive through the Adirondack Mountains is easy. I have time to think about what to do next, how to live on. Without you. A single mother.

It’s a calming drive. Getting away from you feels like freedom. An hour into the drive, my car is winding down the mountain highway, but when I brake, trying to slow down, the brake pedal gives with little resistance.

My stomach sinks—I’m going downhill, struggling to keep control of the car that’s gaining speed.

A turn is looming ahead. A cliff…

I press the brakes again, but the pedal sinks to the floor. Easily. Far too easily… My heart pounding, I jam it as hard as I can, but I already know it won’t work.

Your words flash in my mind.“You’ll fly.”

Dread washes over me like a tide.

The car speeds up, gaining momentum, careening toward the sharp turn ahead.

And then I fly…

ONE

NATALIE

NOW

“Brain dead?” I whisper and feel the omelet I had for breakfast forcing its way back out.

My friend Cara, lying motionless on a hospital bed, makes my stomach turn. A flashback of Lindsey’s funeral hits me, stirring fresh pain.

Three of us moved to New York City nine years ago. Small-town girls. Big dreams.

Then there was just Cara and me.

Now, another one of my best friends is fighting for her life.

“That’s not what I said, Miss Olsen,” says the detective who stands just a bit behind me, explaining what happened so routinely like she does it every day for a living. “She’s in a coma with little brain activity.”

The detective is around my age. But her voice is low and abrasive, like she’s recovering from a bad sore throat, which doesn’t go with her pretty feminine looks.

“The doctor will be here shortly to explain everything,” she continues. “They said your friend is likely to have some degree of amnesia if she recovers. It’s the effect of the drug found in her system.”

“What drug doesthat?” I choke out as I step closer to the hospital bed, afraid that, if I touch Cara, she will feel cold like a corpse.

“Think date-rape drug but five times stronger, with potentially lethal effects.”

“Why?” I ask in a whisper.

“To find out why, we need to find the person who did that to her. We need your help.”

“I already told you. I have no idea who he is.”

“Assuming it’s ahe.”

“Who else would it be? Like I said, we were at the club. We were drinking. She was talking to the red-haired guy I told you about. She never said his name, only that he was in the VIP section.”

“Did you get a good look at him? Who was he with?”

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