Eyes Wide Open by Andrew Gross

that meant. Evan hadn’t been on his meds.
    That explained how he had managed to climb all the way up there. How he still would have had the urge to follow through with it.
    It pretty much explained everything.
    â€œSo how the hell did he manage to find his way all the way up there?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know.” He sighed. “But I do know how the death certificate is going to read. Death by suicide.” He reopened the door and looked at me before he headed back in. “What the hell else would the kid be doing up there in the first place?”

Chapter Nine
    A fter they left, Sherwood slipped back into the interrogation room, shutting the door.
    He took out his cell and pressed the number for the hospital over at County, worriedly thumbing the edge of Evan Erlich’s file.
    Stories like his happened every day out there. Gang executions, drug ODs. Runaways. They all had mothers who wept and didn’t understand. Suicide or accident? What did it really matter? The kid was dead. A tragedy was a tragedy. If it hadn’t ended like this, the next time—and there would have been a next time, Sherwood knew—he would have likely taken the mother and father out too.
    His job was to try to make sense of the rotten outcomes. Just not too much sense.
    Tomorrow, sure as sunrise, there’d be two more.
    The hospital operator answered. Sherwood placed the phone to his ear. “Dr. Derosa, please.”
    He knew about tragedies. And not just on the job. He thought of his son, Kyle, more than twenty years ago, and his wife, Dorrie—almost two years now. He had this new liver. A gift. From a minister. Edward J. Knightly. Now he even peed righteous, Sherwood sometimes said with a laugh. This whole new chance at life. This new lease. What the hell was it even for?
    How do you make sense of others’ tragedies when you can’t even figure out your own?
    A voice came on the line. “Dr. Derosa here.”
    â€œIt’s Sherwood,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “I’m calling about that Erlich kid. That jumper . . .”
    â€œYeah . . .” The doctor sighed, as if he didn’t need to be reminded. “We’re all really sorry about that one here. I got a call this morning from some relative of his. A doctor.”
    â€œAnd how did you handle it?”
    â€œHow we always handle it, Don. You know we don’t put ourselves directly involved.”
    â€œYeah, well, maybe you ought to get a bit more directly involved in this one.”
    The psych ward doctor cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”
    â€œThey want a look at his medical records. They’re right, of course. Funny, they want to know how the hell their son was dropkicked back on the street and a day later ended up dead. And you know what?”
    â€œWhat? ” The doctor sounded a little peeved.
    â€œI can’t say I really blame them on this one, Mitch. Just thought you’d want a heads-up.”
    â€œThe kid was a ticking time bomb, Don. We do our best to stop ’em. This one went off.”
    â€œWell if I were you, you might want to look at it again. That it’s all buttoned up.”
    â€œButtoned up? ” The doctor’s tone now had an edge of irascibility to it.
    â€œAny loose ends . . .” Sherwood stared at the file, at the copy of Evan’s medical records included there.
    Ones the poor, grieving family would never see.
    They didn’t need anyone tugging on loose ends here. Not the family; not some pushy outsider from New York. The problem with loose ends was, once pulled, you just never knew what would tumble out.
    â€œI think you know what I mean.”

Chapter Ten
    I tried the hospital again as soon as we got back to the apartment.
    Again, no luck.
    The doctor in charge, Derosa, still hadn’t called me back. Which was starting to piss me off, since several hours had passed, and it was professional