Evan had become him. Charlie had passed his legacy of disease and blame onto him. Fanned it, like a brush fire, with their anger and how they lived, pointing the finger at everyone for what had gone wrong in their failed lives.
And not to mention they were the ones who had called the police and sent him away.
Gabriella shook her head in frustration and balled her fists. “Oh, Jay, you don’t know how tough this is. I held him in my arms. That first day. Every parent has a dream for their child. I told my son, ‘You are going to make us proud. You are going to live the life we’ve never led.’ A child is supposed to go farther than their parent. That’s how it’s supposed to happen, right? That’s the law of nature. Not this . . .”
I gazed up at that ledge and knew whatever hope they still harbored that their son had simply slipped was just another of their delusions. Why would anyone have climbed all this way, other than to jump? Why would he have remained up there through the night? And, ultimately, like Sherwood grimly said, why did it matter? Evan was dead. No one would ever tell us what was in his mind.
Suddenly Gabriella picked up a stone and flung it against the rocks. Then another, freeing her pent-up rage. “ You bastard! ” she yelled into the wind. “Damn you!”
Damn you.
I didn’t know if she meant Evan or God, or maybe even the giant rock.
She yelled, “I want to know why my son had to die! I know we’re poor. I know we don’t matter. But I deserve that, don’t I, Jay? Evan deserves that.”
She was right—this wasn’t the ending that had to be. It was the ending Evan received, because the system looked the other way.
We all did, in our own way.
Gabby hurled another stone against the rocks.
Yes, Evan deserves that, I answered her in my mind. That’s the least he deserves .
Watching her, I knew why I was there.
Chapter Twelve
T he Harbor View Recuperation Center was a converted white Victorian house with a large front porch and a green awning on a quiet street, a few blocks from the town’s touristy center.
If Gabby wanted answers, this was the place to begin.
“You’re sure you want to go in?” I asked Charlie and Gabby as we pulled up across the street.
“This woman killed our son! ” Gabriella declared bitterly. “She let him leave—when he was supposed to be in the care of people who would watch over him.”
“Okay,” I said. We parked the car and headed in.
A couple of Adirondack-type chairs with chipped paint sat on the porch. The lawn was thick and a bit overgrown, in need of trimming. Inside, we found a couple of elderly people milling about, just as Evan had described. I didn’t see any guards or orderlies around.
“Look at this place,” Gabriella said, her eyes flashing with barely controlled rage. “I can’t believe they dumped my son in this shit hole.”
I knocked on an office door and a squat, pleasant-looking woman in black pants and a floral blouse glanced up from her desk. She appeared Filipino.
“My name’s Dr. Jay Erlich,” I said, introducing myself. “Evan was my nephew.”
Anna Aquino’s almond eyes grew wide. “ Oh . . .” She jumped up, came around the desk, and took my hand. “I am so, so sorry about what happened. I’ve run this facility for eight years. We’ve never had anything like that happen here before.”
“These are Evan’s parents . . .”
Instead of being defensive, Anna Aquino took Gabriella’s hands warmly in hers and gave her a compassionate hug. “I spoke with you the night he disappeared. When he didn’t come back, I was so worried. He seemed like such a good kid, your son. If I knew he was in such a state, I never ever would have allowed him to be admitted.”
Gabriella pulled away. “What do you mean, if you knew he was in such a state? You let our boy just walk out of here. We trusted you to take care of him and now . . .” She glared at the woman with reproach.
Over the years, I’ve
And not to mention they were the ones who had called the police and sent him away.
Gabriella shook her head in frustration and balled her fists. “Oh, Jay, you don’t know how tough this is. I held him in my arms. That first day. Every parent has a dream for their child. I told my son, ‘You are going to make us proud. You are going to live the life we’ve never led.’ A child is supposed to go farther than their parent. That’s how it’s supposed to happen, right? That’s the law of nature. Not this . . .”
I gazed up at that ledge and knew whatever hope they still harbored that their son had simply slipped was just another of their delusions. Why would anyone have climbed all this way, other than to jump? Why would he have remained up there through the night? And, ultimately, like Sherwood grimly said, why did it matter? Evan was dead. No one would ever tell us what was in his mind.
Suddenly Gabriella picked up a stone and flung it against the rocks. Then another, freeing her pent-up rage. “ You bastard! ” she yelled into the wind. “Damn you!”
Damn you.
I didn’t know if she meant Evan or God, or maybe even the giant rock.
She yelled, “I want to know why my son had to die! I know we’re poor. I know we don’t matter. But I deserve that, don’t I, Jay? Evan deserves that.”
She was right—this wasn’t the ending that had to be. It was the ending Evan received, because the system looked the other way.
We all did, in our own way.
Gabby hurled another stone against the rocks.
Yes, Evan deserves that, I answered her in my mind. That’s the least he deserves .
Watching her, I knew why I was there.
Chapter Twelve
T he Harbor View Recuperation Center was a converted white Victorian house with a large front porch and a green awning on a quiet street, a few blocks from the town’s touristy center.
If Gabby wanted answers, this was the place to begin.
“You’re sure you want to go in?” I asked Charlie and Gabby as we pulled up across the street.
“This woman killed our son! ” Gabriella declared bitterly. “She let him leave—when he was supposed to be in the care of people who would watch over him.”
“Okay,” I said. We parked the car and headed in.
A couple of Adirondack-type chairs with chipped paint sat on the porch. The lawn was thick and a bit overgrown, in need of trimming. Inside, we found a couple of elderly people milling about, just as Evan had described. I didn’t see any guards or orderlies around.
“Look at this place,” Gabriella said, her eyes flashing with barely controlled rage. “I can’t believe they dumped my son in this shit hole.”
I knocked on an office door and a squat, pleasant-looking woman in black pants and a floral blouse glanced up from her desk. She appeared Filipino.
“My name’s Dr. Jay Erlich,” I said, introducing myself. “Evan was my nephew.”
Anna Aquino’s almond eyes grew wide. “ Oh . . .” She jumped up, came around the desk, and took my hand. “I am so, so sorry about what happened. I’ve run this facility for eight years. We’ve never had anything like that happen here before.”
“These are Evan’s parents . . .”
Instead of being defensive, Anna Aquino took Gabriella’s hands warmly in hers and gave her a compassionate hug. “I spoke with you the night he disappeared. When he didn’t come back, I was so worried. He seemed like such a good kid, your son. If I knew he was in such a state, I never ever would have allowed him to be admitted.”
Gabriella pulled away. “What do you mean, if you knew he was in such a state? You let our boy just walk out of here. We trusted you to take care of him and now . . .” She glared at the woman with reproach.
Over the years, I’ve
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