Eyes Wide Open by Andrew Gross

office said he was still at an outside consult.
    Even a call to Brian, the mental health social worker there, went straight to his voice mail.
    I was beginning to feel like a wall of silence was being erected, and the doctor and his staff were bricks in it.
    Finally I got fed up. I was losing valuable time. I tried the nurse’s station at the psych ward. I got to a Janie Middleton, who identified herself as the chief nurse on the ward. “I’m told you wanted some information on Evan Erlich?”
    “Nurse Middleton”—I softened my tone—“my name is Jay Erlich. I’m a surgeon in vascular medicine at the Westchester Medical Center back east in New York. Evan was my nephew . . .”
    “Oh,” she said, betraying some nerves, “I assisted him while he was here. He seemed like a nice boy to me. We’re all so, so sorry for what took place . . .”
    “I appreciate that,” I said. “Look, Janie, I know Dr. Derosa isn’t around . . .”
    “He’s—” For a second I thought she was about to say He’s right here . Then she seemed to catch herself. “I was told he might not be back for the day, but the first step in any patient inquiry is to request the doctor’s report. The next of kin is entitled to it, of course . . .”
    “Of course.” Everyone was hiding behind the damned report. I just wanted to speak to somebody. . .
    “Janie . . .” I took a breath, trying to hide my frustration. “Are you a parent?”
    “Yes,” she said, her reserve softening as well. “I am.”
    “Then you’ll understand. My brother and sister-in-law have just lost their only child. They want an answer.”
    How Evan went from being on suicide watch to being released, after just days. How he was placed in an unrestricted facility and a day later he was dead. “You can understand that. They’re feeling—they were making the responsible decision to put their son in the hands of the county when he got out of control. And no one’s giving them any information on how this happened.”
    “Of course I can understand,” the nurse replied. “Look, just petition the medical records. Off the record . . . then the doctor has to officially respond to your questions. I honestly think that’s the best way.” She lowered her voice. “I hope you understand what I’m saying . . .”
    Was there some kind of cover-up going on? Was that why no one was willing to get on the phone with me? What was the hospital hiding?
    “I hear you,” I said, sighing. “So how long does that generally take?”
    “Four or five business days, I think.”
    “Four or five days!” I wouldn’t even be there then.
    “Ask for the medical reports,” she said again. “That’s about the best I can say. We’re just all so sorry . . .”
    Frustrated, I thanked her for her time.
    “See, now you’re starting to see what shits they are out here,” my brother chortled, as if in vindication. “How no one lifts a finger for you if you’re poor. You’re just not used to that, little brother.”
    “I’m not done.”
    I called the hospital one last time and asked for the head of the Psych Department, a Dr. Emil Contreras. I explained to his assistant who I was. She told me Dr. Contreras was at a conference in New Orleans and wouldn’t be back until Thursday.
    Thursday I’d be going back home.
    “When he checks in, if you can please have him give me a call. It concerns Evan Erlich. It’s urgent.”
    I left my cell number. I wanted to slam down the phone.
    It was only two. And I wasn’t sure exactly what I had accomplished. “What’s next . . . ?”
    “I think I need to see it,” Gabby said.
    “See what?”
    “Where it happened.”
    Charlie looked at her warily. “You’re sure?”
    Detective Sherwood had given us detailed directions to the spot where they found Evan. Underneath the rock.
    “Yes. I have to see it.” Gabriella nodded. “I have to see the place my son died.”

Chapter Eleven
    I t rose, gigantic and majestic. A