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“An unknown or undiscovered or undocumented disease that has hard to trace triggers.”
“Like Lupus?”
“It’s not Lupus,” Bryn huffs in mild irritation. “Haven’t you watched House? It’s almost never Lupus.”
“This is not an overdramatic TV show,” Hamilton fusses in her direction before turning mine, “and this is most likely not Lupus or an autoimmune disease. And if it is? There’s nothing I can do for her here.”
The proclamation has me looking over my shoulder once more to meet his gaze.
“In my expert opinion, I believe she’s being poisoned. It could be something airborne, ingested, or delivered by touch considering we were the only two people in the facility all weekend sharing many of the same situations, me personally handling all the same items. Because of this…because of the fact I had minor symptoms as well,” his gaze consistently pivots between us, “isolation and sterilization in the clean room is the best, next set of actions along with providing her strictly IV liquids and nutrition. While they are not ideal for a functional individual who can tend to herself, they’re the ideal course of actions to guarantee she is only receiving what she is supposed to.”
No argument is made.
Not that there’s really one to give.
“The only people allowed inside – in protective gear at that – will be me and three around the clock nurses from HNMC – already vetted and NDAs signed – rotating in eight-hour shifts, who’ll also be accompanying any and all medical gear transported to the estate.”
Fuck.
I don’t want this.
I don’t want more people on the grounds.
I don’t want more reasons to have to hide.
Disappear.
Especially not with the way Bryn makes me feel like it’s alright to actually be seen.
“They will not be allowed on any other part of the property, and I’m having Park set up members of security at both the front and back exit to assist in preventing that and the possibility of anyone who isn’t one of them entering. They’ll be escorted straight to the medical vehicle from the door and straight from the vehicle to the door. You have nothing to be concerned about, Wes.”
“Except that someone he employees may be trying to fucking off my mom.”
“Except that.”
This time I throw my words over my other shoulder at her. “I don’t believe anyone is trying to kill Lauren.”
“Doesn’t mean that they aren’t. Just that you don’t wanna believe it.”
I hate that she has a valid point.
Primarily because she shouldn’t.
Because the people who are here are supposed to be ones I can trust.
That I’ve always relied on trusting.
I can’t have that of all things changing.
If I can’t trust them, who can I trust?
Where does that leave my estate?
Me?
“How long?” I clear my throat and intentionally direct my question to Hamilton. “How long do you wanna keep her in that room?”
“A week.”
