Every Fifteen Minutes (27 page)

“Good morning, Chief,” Sam said, turning to him with a smile. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, fine.” Eric could barely look Sam in the eye. “How's everything on the unit?”

“Everybody's fine and finishing breakfast.”

“How's Perino?”

“I checked on him, and he's stable.”

“And Leah Barry?”

“I'm worried about her and I discussed it with David. Amaka will tell us what the nurses said last night, but she seems stuporous to me. Her dosages are too high.”

“Good to know.” Eric fell into step beside Sam and they walked into the conference room together. David and Jack filed in after them, talking to each other, then the psych techs came in with two of the caseworkers. Eric became aware that even though he stood with Sam, he kept checking the door, waiting for the moment when Kristine walked in. “So. What else is new?”

“Nothing.” Sam blinked.

“How was your son's game the other night?” Eric was showing he was still the Chief, a sort-of family man, and never the subject of a valid sexual harassment claim.

“They won, actually.” Sam smiled, his eyebrows lifting in mild surprise, because they rarely talked about anything but the unit and the patients.

“Good.” Eric was too distracted to make small talk, and his mouth felt dry. “We should have a coffee machine here, don't you think? Why is there only one on the unit?”

“I know, right?”

“We meet here every day, yet we get the coffee from the coffee room and bring it here.” Eric wondered if Kristine would show up for work.

“Come to think of it, we should, Chief. We can make our own lousy coffee here. We don't have to import it.”

“Agree.” Eric forced a smile. He hoped that Kristine had called in sick.

“Then it's a plan. Now, how many forms do we have to fill out to get a new coffee machine?” Sam chuckled at his own joke.

“I'll treat us, how about that? Cut through the red tape.”

“I'll split it with you.”

Just then Kristine walked in the door, talking quietly with the other medical student, and Eric had to hide his astonishment at her appearance, which had completely changed. Gone was her perfect makeup and the glossy hair that even he could tell was blown-dry. She had on a pair of oversized tortoiseshell glasses, so she must've been wearing contacts lenses during her entire rotation, and her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. She wasn't wearing her usual dress, but a navy blazer with a white shirt underneath and khaki pants. Even though she was still attractive, it was in a daughterly way, like the smart-girl next door.

Eric's thoughts raced. He didn't know what she was doing or why she was doing it, unless they were interviewing her today for the investigation. He kicked himself for not asking when that was taking place. He didn't know how she thought she would get away with it, anyway. Everybody on the unit knew the way Kristine dressed; she was famously the pretty one, the Girl Who Dressed Too Hot For Work. But no one on the Physician Impairment Committee would know any of that, except Sam. Meanwhile, Eric turned back to Sam, who was saying something about choosing the best coffee machine.

“… it does taste better, and you get a hot cup that way, but it's terrible for the environment. All those plastic cups, they end up in landfills. Did you read about that garbage island in the Pacific? It's twice the size of Texas. It's been there a hundred years, and if this keeps up, we'll ruin the entire ecosystem…”

“Right.” Eric kept his eyes pointedly from Kristine, who took her customary seat with the other medical student, their heads bent in unusually earnest conversation. It struck him that Kristine could have told the medical student about the sexual harassment claim. They talked about juicy gossip all the time; Caitlin called it girl drama when the female lawyers in the D.A.'s Office did it. Certainly the Dean of Jefferson Medical School knew and others on his staff.

Amaka took her seat, motioning to Eric to get his attention. “Chief, you said you wanted to get started.”

“Right, yes, of course.” Eric realized that he and Sam were the only ones left standing. He fled to his chair at the head of the table, pulling it out. “Amaka, talk to us.”

“Good news, to begin with.” Amaka opened the first folder on the top of her stack. “It appears that Mr. Echeverria had another good night's sleep and continues to improve.”

Eric noticed that Kristine was still whispering to the other medical student. He would usually let that slide, especially among the staff in the back row, but today it unnerved him.

“He slept seven hours, was compliant with medication, and had another nice visit with his family, including his young son. The child drew a very nice picture. He hung it up.”

Jack snorted. “I saw it. My dog could do better.”

David snorted. “My cat could do better.”

“That's enough,” Eric snapped, on edge. Silence dropped like a stage curtain, with gazes shifting around the table. The attendings joked around at every meeting, but he was displacing his anger. It was Kristine he wanted to tell to shut up, but he caught himself. If he told her to stop, would it draw more attention to them both? Would it piss her off? Would she use it against him? Was it retaliation under the sexual harassment law?

Amaka glossed over the awkward moment. “Mr. Echeverria has one day left on his insurance. Jack wants to discharge him today. Chief, approve?”

“I'll take a look at him on treatment rounds and decide then.” Eric was punting, but he couldn't think clearly enough with Kristine still whispering, a continuing hiss like a steam kettle, building up pressure.

“Moving on,” Amaka continued, shifting her file to the next patient, running through the vitals, the particulars, and the nurses' notes …

Eric zoned Amaka out, her clipped words drowned out by Kristine's hissing. All he could think of was how many people in addition to Sam or the other medical student knew about the sexual harassment claim. If one person told another person and they told three other people, then by noon today, twenty-five more people would know. It could ruin his reputation, even if he was cleared of the claim. People would always wonder whether he, the newly single top doc, had harassed young Kristine.

“Kristine, stop it!” Eric blurted out, his head swiveling to look at her, and she met his eye behind her glasses, apparently guilelessly. The room went silent again, with everyone looking at him curiously. Eric realized from their bewilderment that Kristine had already stopped whispering. He'd been responding to the hissing in his head, as if he were one of his patients suffering from delusions, not their doctor, here to heal them.

“Chief? Pardon?” Amaka frowned, puzzled.

“Excuse me, go on.” Eric kept it together as Amaka continued, giving the overnight status update on patient after patient, and he replied when it was necessary, managing to make it through the remainder of the meeting by focusing on his patients, who deserved as much, and Max, whom he'd have to call about later. The meeting concluded, and Eric got through treatment rounds with Sam and the team the same way, by staying focused on the care of his patients.

At noon, Eric grabbed a yogurt and a soda from the vending machine and fled to his office, closing the door behind him. He knew he was hiding but he needed the breather, and he had the Physicians Impairment Committee meeting at 1:30. He slid his phone from his back pocket, scrolled to Contacts, found Marie's phone number, and dialed it, listening to it ring as he went to the desk and sat down. It rang twice, then was answered. “Marie, it's Dr. Parrish.”

“Hello, Dr. Parrish,” Marie answered, her voice sounding vaguely boozy. He had no idea if she'd gotten his earlier phone message.

“Did Max come home?”

“No, I haven't seen him. Have you heard anything?”

“No. Doesn't he work today?”

“He's supposed to, but his boss called looking for him. They said he didn't come in. He didn't call either. They don't know where he is.”

“Oh no.” Eric couldn't pull any punches. “I'm very concerned about his mental state and whether he's done himself harm. I haven't heard from the police, have you?”

“No.”

“Does he ever stay out at night? How typical is this?” Eric could guess the answer from what he knew about Max.

“To be honest, I don't know how typical it is.” Marie hesitated. “I … don't always … stay here.”

“But it's not like him, is it? He's a responsible kid. Has he ever even missed a day of work?”

“I don't know, I doubt it.”

“Marie, last night you mentioned that Max talks on the phone to somebody, maybe a friend of his. Do you have any idea who that person could be?”

“No, I don't know. I just know he talks to him a lot on the phone at night.”

“It's a he? How do you know it's a boy? Did you hear him say a name?” Eric wondered if it could be Ren
é
e.

“I didn't hear him say a name, but it
has
to be a boy. I don't really think Max had a girlfriend, do you?” Marie chuckled, and Eric heard ice tinkling in a glass, which troubled him.

“Marie, it's not my business, but it would help a lot if you could stick to Diet Coke. This is about Max, and we have to work together to find him. It doesn't get more—”

“It's just that it's so crazy, and it's a lot to deal with, all of a sudden the house is empty, and the funeral home wants to schedule the service for my mom, and I don't even know where Max is, and it turns out she paid for the whole thing, but they want to know what kind of flowers I want and things like that…”

“I understand,” Eric said, when her voice trailed off. “I know this is a hard time for you, but Max has to be the priority now. We have to find him.”

“Okay, okay, I hear you.”

“Good. I have to go now because I want to call the police. Call me if he contacts you, would you?”

“Yes, fine, thanks. Thanks so much for helping. Don't think I don't appreciate you, because I do. I know you really care about him, I can tell. Bye now.”

“Okay, good-bye now.” Eric hung up, got the non-emergency number of the Radnor police, and pressed Call.

“Squad room, Sergeant Colson speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hello, this is Dr. Eric Parrish, a psychiatrist at Havemeyer General Hospital, and I'm calling about one of my private patients. I'm concerned that he's a suicide risk after his grandmother's death yesterday, and he's been missing since then. His name is Max Jakubowski.”

“How old is he?”

“Seventeen, a senior at Pioneer High. He works at PerfectScore but he hasn't shown up for work today and his mother doesn't know where he is, either.”

“So how long has he been missing?”

“Since six o'clock last night, but it's very unusual for him to be out at night, especially overnight.” Eric was going with his hunch.

“Can you give me a brief description of the boy?”

Eric told him generally what Max looked like. “Is he considered a missing person yet?”

“We don't stand on technicalities, Dr. Parrish.”

“Good, because it's a matter of life and death. I called last night, and Officer Gambia went to the boy's house for me. He knows the case.”

“Hold on, please, Dr. Parrish. It may take a few minutes.”

“Okay, I'll wait.” Eric moved his mouse to wake up his computer, entered his passcode, and watched email pile onto the screen. He skimmed the senders' names and subject lines distractedly, but one jumped out at him. He moved the mouse to click it open.

“Dr. Parrish?” Sergeant Colson said, abruptly back on the line. “I talked to one of my patrolmen, and they are aware of the situation from last night. We will keep an eye out for the young man and notify you if we hear anything. We have your cell number from last night.”

“Thank you.”

“Good-bye, Doctor.”

“Bye.” Eric stared at the computer screen. The email was from Susan and it read:
Dear Eric, Attached please find a copy of Husband's Petition for Primary Custody, which was filed and served today. Please feel free to call if you have any questions. Best, Susan.

He opened the attachment and tried to read it, but the terms tumbled all over one another,
MINOR CHILD
,
WIFE
,
HUSBAND, PRIMARY RESIDENCE
, all the stuff of his personal life, bollixed up in boldface. He studied it until it was time to go to the Physician Impairment Committee meeting.

He didn't eat the yogurt.

 

Chapter Thirty-two

Eric took a moment to compose himself before the Physician Impairment Committee meeting, standing outside the closed mahogany door in the empty hallway. He had to get his head in the game, so he pressed his custody petition and Max to the back of his mind, so he could focus. He braced himself, opened the door, and entered the conference room, but Brad Farnessen, Tom Singh, and Sam Ward were already there. They had water bottles and fresh legal pads, and Eric realized they must have been told to arrive much earlier. They sat in a panel on the far side of a Formica table with a fake wood surface, shaped like an upside-down U.

Brad smiled at Eric and rose abruptly, gesturing to his right. “Eric, come on in. Please, sit down.”

“Thanks for coming, Eric,” Tom said, rising from the center seat, his voice falsely light.

Sam rose last, meeting Eric's eye with obvious discomfort and pursing his lips. He actually gave Eric a little hippie-wave, then shoved his hand into his pocket. “Hey, Chief.”

“Hello, everyone.” Eric sat down in the black mesh chair to their right, and while everybody resettled, he looked briefly around. The room was small, rectangular, and windowless, and there was a large flat-screen television mounted on the wall, a futuristic pod-type conference phone in the center of the table, and a whiteboard on the wall that read at the top, HGH Patient Safety Communication Board.