Page 27 of Born in Grief

Fourth floor, fifth window to the right. That was her room. She was probably sleeping. Had she walked today? He hadn’t dared turn up at her room a second time to help her walk. He’d already risked too much with that last visit. His hand still burned from when he’d wrapped it around her waist to steady her as she walked.

“True. True. But, from what I hear, the cops have a warrant to search their house.”

Amay’s breathing slowed, his senses sharpening as he watched the other man’s gleeful expression as he shared gossip that he had no basis for.

“A warrant?” he asked, his tone carefully casual. “What are they looking for?”

“Who knows?” Saxena shrugged. “Drugs, black money, guns? It could be anything really.”

“Guns?” Amay barked out a disbelieving laugh. “Really?”

“Rich people think they’re above the law.” Saxena caught his glasses before they fell off his face completely. Sighing, he foldedthe stems and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “A man who tried to kill his wife could do anything. How much lower could he sink anyway?”

Amay watched the light in Dhrithi’s suite dim, a shadow moving near the window and then disappearing. A nurse? One of her parents? Or someone else? His need to know everything about her, every last detail had resurfaced with a vicious edge to it. His ‘Dhrithi craving’ was his drug of choice, had always been.

“So, they have a warrant,” he mused, hoping Saxena would keep talking.

“Yeah.” Saxena glanced at the building behind him, his gaze softening with pity. “Poor thing. She’s really going through it right now, isn’t she?”

Amay made a noncommittal sound, his chest heaving with a deep exhale. “Was there anything else, Mr. Saxena?”

“The board wanted me to speak with you about the patient, the accident case.”

Amay smiled, a feral baring of his teeth. “Dhrithi Gokhale,” he reminded the other man again. “The ‘accident case’ has a name.”

“Yes. Well about that, is there anything we need to know? Anything the police need to know?”

“We need to maintain doctor patient confidentiality,” he snapped. “We don’t need to tell the police anything.”

“They’re coming with a warrant,” Saxena snapped back. “We’ll be obliged to tell them everything. Our legal and management team need to be prepared. Now tell me what there is to tell them!”

Amay’s jaw flexed as he fought for control. He took a deep breath, scrubbed a hand through his hair and said, “The patient shows signs of systemic physical and sexual abuse. All old, healed injuries are documented in her file.”

The words burned like poisonous bile at the back of his throat as he forced himself to speak them.

“God,” Saxena exhaled. “The man was an absolute dickhead. Good thing he’s dead.”

Good thing he’s dead.

Amay mentally echoed the words, the slow simmer of his blood pulsing to steam over the steely lines of his control. It was a really good thing Varun was dead. Amay didn’t fancy spending a lifetime in jail for murder.

“Anything else,” Saxena asked.

“Not that I can think of,” Amay responded. “Her tox and alcohol screen were clear.”

“Has she had a psych consult?”

Amay paused. “Not so far.”

“Let’s order one.” Saxena shoved his glasses up again, frustration lining the gesture. “First thing in the morning.”

Amay nodded. “On it.”

He should have thought of it. Irritation at himself had him shoving his hands through his hair and tugging. How had he missed that step? She’d scrambled his brains, like she always did; just by existing, by breathing the same air as him.

Saxena bade him goodnight and strode back towards the hospital. Amay stayed where he was, watching the older man go.

A warrant. The cops were playing hardball and Varun wasn’t here to play the mental chess games he excelled at. He wasn’t here to get away with whatever explosive shit he’d been involved in. And when it detonated, there was only one person who was going to be left standing in the debris.

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