“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Every time I close my eyes.”
I didn’t miss Rinaldo’s narrowed eyes as I admitted this to the attorney. Yes, I had been too broken to come to him after I had killed Terry and Bridgett, but it was obvious the nightmares had been getting worse for a while. I hadn’t told him about those. Even when I confessed that Bridgett had slept in my bed with me, I never told him the reason why.
“Do you ever feel numb?”
“Most of the time.”
“Have you ever thought about hurting yourself or someone else?”
I actually laughed, which caused Rinaldo to smile slightly as well.
“Evan’s right,” he told the attorney. “That’s a seriously stupid question.”
“Moving on,” Michael muttered. “Do you have trouble focusing?”
“Yes.”
“Do you ever talk to your family or friends about what happened to you?”
“Fuck no.”
“Are you going to diagnose him or get him the fuck out of here?” Rinaldo growled as his patience waned.
“I’m just trying to understand his state of mind at the time of the incident.”
“He was fucked up—temporary insanity brought on by the stress of one of his co-workers and friends being found dead, right, Arden?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please, Mister Moretti, let me do my job.” Michael reclined in the plastic chair and looked into Rinaldo’s eyes.
He was a brave man; I’d give him that.
Rinaldo glared for a moment but finally waved his hand dismissively.
“Whatever. Continue.”
He asked me a bunch of other questions, which I answered the best I could. After the final question, he took his finger and traced it down the edge of the page as he reviewed his notes, nodded once, and stood up from the chair.
“That’s all I need for now,” he announced. “If I have further questions, we’ll set up another meeting. I’ve given your unit leader my contact information if you think of anything you believe is pertinent. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble having you released on bail as long as the Marine psychologist doesn’t have any major objections.”
“I’ll meet you outside,” Rinaldo said.
Michael closed his notes into his briefcase and left the small room. I glanced at my boss and tried not to feel too emasculated as he stared down at me with disappointment in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
“I know you are.” He let out a big sigh as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “One way or another, this will all work itself out.”
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be more concerned with the one way or the other, but I was positive I wasn’t completely cleared in his eyes. His next words did have a calming effect though.
“I’m going to get you out of here, Arden,” Rinaldo said with conviction. “You’ve been far too valuable to let you rot. You have also left me in the awkward position of not just missing you, but also missing your backup.”
“Sorry, sir,” I said again. I couldn’t argue with what he said—I’d removed myself to jail right after killing his number two hit man, Terry Kramer.