Killing Hour. Andrew Gross

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СКАЧАТЬ –’ 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.’

      I took her through the events. 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 11

      It rose, gigantic and majestic. A single mound of volcanic rock dominating the coastline, six hundred feet high.

      We could see it from miles away, before we even reached the quaint coastal town. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Partly because of its vast size. And partly because of what happened there.

      ‘This is crazy,’ Gabriella said, hiding her face in her hands and glancing toward Charlie. ‘I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. Going to the spot where my son died.’

      The massive rock was situated on a narrow strip of land, overlooking the tiny fishing bay. Sherwood had said to drive all the way to the parking lot along the south side of the rock, then go through a chain-link gate and across the shoals. A narrow path snaked up the rock face there. He said to look for a ledge, about a hundred feet up, above the jagged rocks.

      The place where a couple of early-morning clammers had found Evan.

      My heart poured out, thinking of Evan being drawn to the site as he walked there, alone and confused, voices clashing in his head.

      ‘Now you see, you see what my poor boy climbed?’ Gabby turned to me. ‘In the fucking dark. You have to be crazy to do that, right?’

      I didn’t answer, but there was nothing in me that disagreed.

      We parked the car and walked out onto the rocky shoals in the shadow of the mountain. A handful of people were milling around. Fishermen tossing out lines, tourists snapping photos, a few makeshift souvenir stands. The breeze picked up, and Charlie and Gabriella seemed to waver.

      My brother said, ‘Maybe he went up there to see God. Evan was like that. Maybe that’s what he wanted to do.’

      I had heard about as much of this ‘Evan was Jesus’ stuff as I could bear. ‘The kid was disturbed, Charlie. He wasn’t looking for God. He was sick.’ I heard myself echoing Sherwood. ‘What the hell do you think he was doing up there anyway?’

      ‘I don’t know if I can do this,’ Gabby said, suddenly white as a ghost.

      I went over and put my arm around her. ‘You don’t have to, Gabby. We can go back.’

      ‘No, I do. I do have to.’ She brushed back her hair and fortified herself with a breath. ‘Let’s go.’

      We walked, Charlie trailing, until we found the chain-link fence Sherwood spoke of. There was a gate to walk through, but also a sign: NO VISITORS PERMITTED PAST THIS POINT.

      There was no park ranger around, no one stopping us. Sherwood had said to keep going as far as we could walk.

      ‘I think it’s over here!’ I shielded my eyes and looked up. A craggy overhang protruded high up the cliff face, nothing in its way to break a fall to the rocks below. I noticed a loose path winding up the face and another sign that cautioned against climbing.

      Gabriella looked up, tears massing in her eyes. ‘I can’t believe this, Charlie, I really can’t. I can’t believe our boy would do this.’

      Charlie leaned against me, his long hair whipped by the wind. ‘He didn’t kill himself. I know it. Don’t you see, that’s why they never found the other sneaker. He slipped somehow, climbing up. Maybe it lodged in the rock. It’s up there somewhere. He wouldn’t have jumped. I have to believe that, Jay, you understand?’

      I wanted so much to tell him, Stop it, Charlie, just stop. Evan’s dead. Like Sherwood said, accident or suicide, what did it even matter now? Instead, I just squeezed his shoulder and nodded. ‘I understand.’

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