Suki59's Fanfiction

Over the Moon: Chapter 8

I stayed awake for several nights in a row waiting for Eric, but he never came. Eventually, my sleep deprivation caught up with me, and I started to sleep again. I couldn’t function at work on no sleep, and I had to work to keep from losing my mind. I couldn’t believe that Eric wasn’t coming back to me. I replayed that last scene over and over in my mind, and maybe I was just deluding myself, but I really thought he’d come back. It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d questioned my own sanity since I’d met Eric Northman.

I cried for a couple of weeks. And yes, I’ll admit that I tried standing nude in my yard, and yes, I made myself bleed, setting the same trap that had worked so brilliantly the first time. Only this time I just felt foolish.

I found myself staring at Quinn one day at work, wondering if I could go back to him, but it was just impossible. Eric had ruined me for all other men. I’d rather spend my life alone than to settle for anything less than how I felt when I was with Eric, and it was looking like that’s just what I was going to have to do. There was no more Eric.

Although I knew it was futile, I asked Sam again if he had any contact information on Eric. Of course, he didn’t. I listened to his mind, but got nothing. I assumed that Eric lived somewhere in Shreveport, but beyond that, I knew nothing.

One day at work I was scrolling through the photos I had stored in my phone feeling sorry for myself when I stopped on a particular favorite of Eric leaning up against his car in my driveway wearing the black cashmere sweater. He loved that silly red Corvette. I never got it, but I know that men can become quite attached to their cars. I smiled to myself and felt the tears start, but then I stopped. Yes, Eric was leaning against the side of the car and looked great, but the photo was taken from the rear of the car and sure enough, the flash of the camera made it possible to read his license plate.

I immediately wiped the tears away and picked up the phone to call my contact at the DMV.

“Arlene, it’s Sookie. Can you run a plate for me?”

“Sure.” I gave her the number and made small talk while she scrolled through the data. “Okay, here it is. That belongs to a Leif Norrman. 1637 North Beechwood Drive, here in Shreveport.”

“Not Eric Northman?”

“Nope.” I sat and absorbed this information for a minute. “Wow. This one’s got some money, too. There are four cars and two boats. What’s an Aston Martin?”

“A car for people with more money than sense. Thanks, Arlene. I owe you a lunch.”

“Not a problem, girlfriend.”

I mapquested Beechwood Drive and grabbed my purse. As I turned the corner and the house came into view, I knew I was not on the right track. Eric could not possibly have lived in this house. It was small and very unassuming. I walked around and peeked in the windows and hoped there weren’t any nosey neighbors who were watching me. The house was furnished, but it looked staged, like those houses on the real estate shows. I seriously doubted if anybody lived here at all. And the garage was empty. I closed my eyes and tried to feel Eric, but felt nothing but the general hum that was always in the back of my mind during daytime hours and whenever he wasn’t with me. This was a dead end.

I sat in my car and contemplated my next move. I pulled out my phone and googled Leif Norrman. Googling Eric Northman had produced very little other than some information about the late night interviews that the station had aired. Leif Norrman produced even less unless he was a champion tennis player in Sweden in the 1960’s. Heck, maybe he was.

I started the car and drove downtown to the courthouse. I pulled the property tax records for Leif Norrman and Eric Northman. Leif owned forty-three properties. Eric owned seventeen. Jeesum Peets, somebody has some money. I jotted down all the addresses and cursed the fact that it would take me days to drive by all sixty properties and peek in the windows when suddenly I had another idea. Arlene had said that Eric, I mean, Leif, owned two boats. I took two steps at a time as I went up to the next floor and pulled the plats of lakefront properties in Shreveport. I scanned my lists of addresses and bingo, I found a match. I circled the address on my notepad and took off running.

I was going to find me a vampire.

Next Chapter


One thought on “Over the Moon: Chapter 8

  1. valady1 on said:

    Using her professional skills as a reported to find Eric, now she’s using her head.

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