“But I’m sure you’ve heard of bipolar disorder?”
Dread sank in as his question started to make sense. “Yes, I have.”
“Cyclothymia disorder is sometimes seen as a milder form of bipolar disorder. It’s a rare mood disorder that causes emotional ups and downs that’s less drastic than those associated with bipolar one and two. I take it you weren’t aware Aristotle was being treated for this condition?”
“No, no, I wasn’t.”
“We asked you to bring in any medication and we were able to trace the doctor who prescribed them. It seems he hasn’t been keeping up with his dosage, which might account for the prolonged state of unresponsiveness he’s currently in.”
What? Why had Ari hidden this from me? He had to have known his diagnosis wouldn’t have changed the way I saw him. If him killing and discarding of bodies hadn’t changed my mind about him, nothing would.
“I’m not sure what all this means,” I said.
“It means that even after Aristotle pulls through this, he’s going to need guidance in making sure he takes his medication as prescribed to keep his moods stabilized.”
He nodded and walked away. Had I thanked him for the information or said something else appropriate? I really couldn’t tell with the buzzing inside my head as memories flashed through my mind like the picture reel in my phone. Moments when he was extremely happy and always on the go, like days he’d cleaned the house from top to bottom. Then his mood had shifted so dramatically, and he’d thrown a tantrum and earned himself a time-out.
His mother wasn’t the only one who failed him.
I must have fallen asleep again. The vibrations of my phone woke me up. I squinted, squeezing my eyes tightly shut, then opening them to check whether Ari was awake. He’d become agitated earlier again, and the nurse sedated him. He was still sleeping, but the koala was still clutched under his arm.
That was a good sign, right?
I let out a yawn, which snapped off at my ex-wife’s text on the screen.
Anne: I’m at the Roseanne hotel. I think we should talk about Ari.
She added her room number and asked me to meet her. My first instinct was to delete the message and ignore her. We had nothing to say to each other. But that wasn’t true. I had a lot that I needed to say to her. Ari couldn’t do it.
After kissing his forehead, I held on to his uninjured hand and promised him I would be back soon. A light squeeze wrapped around my fingers. I stilled and stared from our joined hands to Ari’s face. Had he intentionally squeezed my hand, or had it been one of those involuntarily twitches?
“Ari? Baby, squeeze my hand again if you can hear me.”
But there came no squeeze.
With a sigh, I released his hand. I loathed leaving him, but I couldn’t ignore Anne. The Roseanne was only half a mile away from the hospital and I could do with some thinking time, so I walked to the hotel. I was almost there when my phone rang.
Alex Killian.
What did he want? With Ken being dead, our contract was void. I didn’t need him anymore.
“Hello.”
“Principal Wheeler—”
“Call me Shaw.” I huffed a breath. Him calling me by my title sounded weird after what I’d hired him to do. Fuck. How had I gotten to this point where I had hired hitmen and killed bad guys?
“Sounds good.”
“Did someone find out?” Why else would he call me?
“Relax. I’m just calling to find out how your boyfriend is.”
Oh. I stopped walking. “You are?”
“Yeah, I feel partly responsible, like I should have done something, you know, but you understand I couldn’t have interfered. There would have been too many questions.”
I understood, but I was still pissed about it. If he had interfered and killed Ken, he wouldn’t have hurt Ari.