Without Her Consent

by McGarvey Black

  ‘I’m on staff next door at Oceanside Medical. I divide my time between the emergency room there and supervise the care of some patients here at the Oceanside Manor annex. I mainly work with those who have recently been admitted,’ said Horowitz. ‘After they’ve been here a while, the nurses have the routine down and the patients don’t need that much intervention or input from a physician.’

  ‘Can you give me an overview of the patient population you treat here at Oceanside Manor?’ asked McQ.

  ‘Almost all the people who are residents here have traumatic brain injuries,’ said Dr. Horowitz. ‘Some from accidents—car crashes, drowning, electrocution. There are those who had strokes or internal issues that caused a brain hemorrhage. And, there are even one or two who landed here because of a drug overdose that led to a catastrophic incident. Most of the patients who end up here, have no chance of any meaningful recovery due to the severity and permanence of their injuries. This place is kind of the last stop on the train, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I see,’ said McQ, taking notes. ‘Did you supervise the care of Eliza Stern?’

  ‘She’s been one of my patients.’

  ‘How often did you see her?’

  ‘About once a week, I do rounds and check charts,’ said Horowitz. ‘Detective, what you don’t understand is that the condition of these patients rarely changes. The facility’s job is to make sure their feeding tubes and catheters were working and that the patients are clean and as comfortable as possible and that’s kind of about it.’

  ‘When you did your rounds, did you do them alone?’ asked Blade.

  ‘Sometimes. It depended on the day,’ said Horowitz. ‘Look, this place is a business, like all medicine is today. They keep staff levels low in order to make a profit. Most of the time, I checked on patients by myself. Rarely was there a nurse with me.’

  ‘What about when you checked on Eliza Stern?’ said McQ.

  ‘She’s on 3 West. That wing has the most severely compromised patients, you can hear a pin drop over there. Jenny O’Hearn and Lourdes Castro are the nurses who work on that floor. They’re both diligent and competent. Sometimes, when I checked on Eliza, Nurse O’Hearn accompanied me.’

  ‘But you just said that the staff was so lean, you were usually alone,’ said Blade, leaning forward. ‘Now you’re saying that Nurse O’Hearn was with you when you examined Eliza?’

  ‘I know where you’re going with this,’ said Horowitz. ‘Obviously, we all know that some guy raped Eliza Stern and you’re trying to find out who that is. Read my lips, it wasn’t me and I was never alone with Eliza.’

  ‘And, why is that?’ asked McQ.

  Horowitz appeared uncomfortable and looked around at every corner of the room. McQ glanced over at Blade.

  ‘Dr. Horowitz?’ said McQ. ‘Is there something you want to tell us?’

  Horowitz took a deep breath and let it out. His initial look of irritation was replaced with one of resignation. ‘I was never alone with Eliza Stern because…I was having an affair with Jenny O’Hearn and she was always with me,’ said Horowitz. ‘The patients on 3 West are so compromised that we used to meet in some of their rooms and…well…you know.’

  ‘No doctor, I don’t know,’ said Blade. ‘Illuminate me.’

  Horowitz grimaced and waited a beat. ‘We’d have sex, detective. Jenny and I would go into Eliza’s room every few days and share a moment. Satisfied?’

  ‘Why always Eliza’s room?’ asked McQ.

  ‘A few reasons,’ said the doctor. ‘The patients on that floor require little maintenance so rarely would any other staff be around. Also, Eliza had no relatives or friends. There was virtually no chance of being surprised by a visitor or well-wisher. And, her room was at the end of the hall near the staircase so we could easily get in and out.’

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Blade, unable to control her eyebrows from arching. ‘You’d have sex with Nurse O’Hearn, check your patient and move on to another patient?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘When was the last time you had a romantic encounter in Eliza’s room?’ asked McQ.

  ‘It’s been at least six months,’ said Horowitz. ‘Jenny and I ended it a while ago.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said McQ. ‘Now, why is that?’

  ‘She met someone else and said she didn’t see our relationship going anywhere.’

  ‘I wonder why,’ said a deadpan McQ.

  ‘She was hung up on the fact that I’m married,’ said Horowitz.

  ‘Some women are so petty,’ said Blade, shaking her head.

  Horowitz’s confused expression told them he wasn’t sure if the detective was mocking him or agreeing with him.

  ‘She started seeing this other guy and told me it was over between us.’

  ‘How did you feel about her ending it?’ asked McQ.

  ‘I was cool with it being over,’ said Horowitz. ‘Jenny is hot but there are plenty of nurses who go for doctors, married or not. I didn’t need all the headaches. Besides, there were some rumors that Jenny used to have a drug problem. As a physician, I can’t afford any whisper of drugs connected to my reputation.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Blade supportively. ‘That’s entirely understandable. Sex with a nurse on the floor of your comatose patient’s room is fine but drugs…well that’s a bridge too far.’

  Horowitz looked at Detective Blalock unsure of the true intention of her comments.

  After the physician answered a few more questions, he left and the detectives did a post-mortem of their meeting.

  ‘That guy is a piece of work but I’m on the fence about him,’ said Blade.

  ‘He might have been getting it on with the nurse but that doesn’t preclude him from also having some extra-curricular time with Eliza Stern. Horowitz clearly likes to play the field.’

  ‘He had the access,’ said Blade, ‘and his moral compass is definitely askew.’

  21

  Tommy Devlin had stood out in front of Oceanside Manor waiting for his big scoop for so long, he was afraid he would get picked up for loitering. Getting a statement from anyone who went in or out of the facility had resulted in very little usable material. Nobody was talking and the ones who were, didn’t know anything. His editor at the Bulletin was breathing down his neck, demanding to know when Devlin was going to deliver his big story. Short answer, he wasn’t. He had nothing.

  Only the day before, a couple of girls had given him a tip about a baby’s skeleton being recovered from inside of a wall in the hospital. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he heard it as he envisioned the shocking headline with his name attached to it. A story like that would bring a huge circulation bump to the paper and put him on the front page for weeks, maybe even months. After a little checking, it turned out the baby in the wall story was completely bogus, another fake rumor, one of many that had been circulating. Apparently, the girl who shared that tidbit heard one thing and thought she heard something else, repeated it, and the next thing you knew, they had all concocted one giant, horrific but entirely untrue story.

  When Devlin first took her statement, he was pumped—it was juicy. But as he continued to press the women on the facts, something didn’t add up. He’d been a reporter long enough to know when a line didn’t feel right. Thankfully, he didn’t embarrass himself by taking it to his editor without verification.

  Three days of a huge police presence at Oceanside Manor and Devlin was still without his big story. Still, he knew something was there. His byline from the day before reported there was ‘something going on at Oceanside Manor’ but didn’t reveal any facts. The hospital and police continued to keep a tight lid on whatever it was. The information blackout only increased Devlin’s desire to get his story. The lack of transparency on the part of the police tripped his insatiable curiosity gene into high gear. His editor wanted the juice and Devlin would be damned if he didn’t deliver it with extra pulp.

  He called the facility administrator,
Angela Crawford, and got lucky when she answered her own phone. When Devlin identified himself as a reporter from the Bulletin, she mumbled something about being in a meeting and hung up. He was used to that. More people hung up on him than a robocall. He had to make at least twenty calls to get one person who’d agree to spill the beans. It went with the territory and he was cool with it—most of the time.

  It was about 2:30 in the afternoon when the same two girls who had told him about the baby in the wall, walked out of the front entrance of Oceanside Manor and waved at him as they strolled towards the parking lot.

  ‘Hey, girls,’ shouted Devlin, running after them. ‘Got a minute?’

  ‘We’re not supposed to talk to anyone,’ said the tall girl, turning away. ‘Our supervisor told us not to engage with reporters under any circumstances.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Devlin, turning on what little charm he had, ‘who said anything about engagement? I’m not asking you two to get married. I’m just wondering what’s going on inside this place. Why so many cops?’

  ‘We still don’t know,’ whispered the short girl. ‘Nobody tells us anything.’

  ‘I tried to corroborate that baby inside the wall story you told me; didn’t check out,’ said Devlin, shaking his head.

  ‘I told you not to say that,’ said the short girl, letting out an exasperated breath as she shot her taller friend a look. ‘She always let’s her imagination run away with her. I’m constantly reining her in.’

  ‘I thought it was true,’ said the tall girl. ‘Somebody told me that. How should I know?’

  ‘You think everything is true,’ said the short one. ‘You think all the women on The Bachelor really like the guy. Give me a break. It’s totally fake.’

  ‘It is not. They do like him,’ protested her friend. ‘You’re so cynical.’

  ‘Ladies. Ladies. Let’s get back to the topic at hand. Why is the place crawling with cops? There’s been a police presence here for three full days. Why here? Something must have happened.’

  The short girl looked over at the red brick building and moved closer to Devlin as if she was going to impart the world’s greatest secret. ‘I don’t know if this is why the police are here, but I heard that it has something to do with one of the nurses—Jenny O’Hearn,’ said the short girl in a loud whisper.

  ‘Jenny O’Hearn?’ Devlin repeated as he wrote the name down.

  ‘She’s a floor nurse on 3 West,’ said the short girl.

  ‘She thinks she’s all that,’ said the taller girl. ‘Kind of stuck up, I’d say.’

  ‘Did something happen to her? Why would the cops be here about her?’ Devlin asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the short girl. ‘But what I do know is that Jenny O’Hearn had an affair with one of the doctors on staff, Dr. Steve Horowitz. Horowitz’s wife, by the way, is currently expecting twins.’ The short woman nodded her head for emphasis.

  ‘Interesting,’ said Devlin, ‘but I don’t think an extra-marital affair would warrant a full police investigation. A divorce lawyer, maybe, but the cops, not so much.’

  ‘That’s all I know,’ said the short girl as she and her friend walked away. ‘And don’t quote me, I detest gossip,’ she said, calling over her shoulder.

  ‘Me too,’ Devlin called out as the women got into their car.

  As far as he was concerned, he had nothing to quote, but still, he didn’t completely discount what he had learned. After years walking the crime beat, he knew that every piece of information added up to the sum of the whole—you can’t discount anything. He leaned up against a tree to get out of the sun and made a mental list of what he knew so far.

  Half of the Oceanside Police Department is camped out at an extended-care facility housing mainly brain-dead people. The cops aren’t talking and they’re interviewing a lot of people. The baby skeleton story was a bust—unreliable sources. The head of the hospital hung up on me and no information is being released. A nurse, who works on the third floor of the facility is allegedly doing the nasty dance with a Dr. Horowitz, whose clueless wife is just about to deliver twins. Ha! When Mrs. Horowitz finds out about the nurse, they’re going to need a cop. Note to self—find out if Mrs. Horowitz is really in the dark? My gut tells me this is something…something big.

  22

  Walking back from the ladies’ room, Angela stopped at a hall window and looked out, almost in a trance. She watched several more news trucks pull into the hospital parking lot and unload equipment as dozens of reporters and cameramen scurried about setting things up. Food trucks, having identified a new market of hungry customers, had also joined the melee. Angela shook her head as a hand gently tapped her shoulder.

  ‘Dr. Crawford,’ said her assistant, Vera. ‘You have a three o’clock conference call with Bob Beckmann.’

  Startled, Angela looked down at her watch. It was 2:59. She sighed, thanked her assistant for reminding her and marched towards her office. As soon as she closed her door, her phone rang. She looked at the ID and made a sour face, it was Beckmann.

  ‘Good afternoon, Bob.’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  Adrenaline pumped as she ran her fingers through her hair. Beckmann always rattled her, making her anxious and animated. ‘We’re moving as fast as we can,’ said Angela. ‘My staff is weeding through names, dates, job orders, deliveries, time sheets. It’s a lot. We’re not automated like they are next door at Oceanside Medical. Remember, you and the board didn’t approve the budget for that last year. We have to do everything by hand.’

  ‘Are you complaining?’

  ‘I’m just telling you the reality,’ Angela snipped.

  ‘You know what the reality is?’ said Beckmann, his voice starting to amplify. ‘You’ve got a freak show going on over there, Angela. Women in comas having babies, sickos running around loose, and reporters camping in our parking lot. I drove by earlier today and there was a taco truck doing brisk business in front of Oceanside Manor. We can’t have that.’

  Angela took a deep breath before she responded. ‘We’re doing the best we can.’

  ‘Which isn’t good enough and means you’re nowhere.’

  ‘The police have been interrogating people for fifteen hours a day,’ said Angela. ‘I don’t know how much longer we can keep this story under wraps. Bits and pieces have already leaked. Reporters and news crews are all around the building asking questions. The truth is going to come out.’

  ‘We can’t let that happen,’ said Beckmann. ‘Call the PR firm. Tell them I said to “push the button” tomorrow midday. They’ve been sitting on the release we crafted with the lawyers just waiting for my signal. Tell them it’s time to roll it out, we need to get ahead of this story. Before it breaks, you need to inform the staff. Meet with your people first thing in the morning.’

  23

  Sitting on the worn oatmeal-colored sofa in the familiar waiting room that evening, the sound of world music coming from hidden speakers was barely audible. It was set just loud enough to block out any noise coming from behind the closed office door. An essential oil machine pumped a light scent of patchouli into the air. For probably the fiftieth time, Angela examined the oversized adventure photographs that lined the walls. She had been seeing Virginia for years and had grown fond of the therapist’s no-nonsense approach and her adventurous spirit. Blown-up photos of diving, mountain climbing, kayaking and white-water rafting had been taken by the therapist on her many global excursions. Angela didn’t have Virginia’s keen sense of adventure, but she deeply admired people who did. More single-goal oriented, Angela focused her energy on her husband and medicine and that was enough for her. Besides, these days, they had no money for extravagant vacations. David had seen to that.

  The door to Virginia’s office opened slowly and a teenage boy of about seventeen shuffled out looking like a deer in headlights. For a split second, the kid reminded Angela of her brother, Michael. The kid looked right past her at his mother who was signaling from out in the hallway
through the glass door and the boy left. A moment later, Virginia stepped out of her office and waved to Angela.

  ‘Give me a minute,’ she said as she hurriedly walked by. ‘I’ve got to wee or I’m going to burst.’

  Angela turned her attention back to the soothing pictures. Virginia had taken a great photo of tropical fish on one of her diving trips to the Caribbean. How wonderful and quiet it must be deep down in the water. No phones ringing. No one asking questions. No board of directors—only quiet. Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when Virginia burst back into the waiting room with her customary smile.

  ‘Angela, you’re up,’ said Virginia, walking back into her office with Angela following obediently behind.

  ‘How are you?’ said Virginia as they both sat. Virginia looked directly into Angela’s eyes.

  ‘I’ve been better.’

  ‘I’ve heard there’s quite a scuttlebutt brewing over at Oceanside Manor.’

  ‘It’s an awful mess. One of our non-responsive patients went into labor four days ago.’

  ‘How far along in her pregnancy was she when she was admitted?’ asked Virginia.

  ‘You don’t understand, this particular patient has been with us and in a coma for twelve years.’

  ‘Holy shit,’ said Virginia, her eyes opening wide. The second after her words left her mouth, she caught herself. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t very professional of me at all. You caught me by surprise. What I meant to say was, “Oh my, how did that happen?”’

  ‘We don’t know yet,’ said Angela, shaking her head. ‘There’s a massive investigation going on right now. I haven’t had a minute to breathe. It’s a miracle I was able to make our session today. I’ve been working twenty-hour days this week. I’m exhausted but I really needed to see you.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Virginia. ‘Sounds like you have your hands full. What do you want to talk about today? Work or home?’

  Angela paused for a moment. ‘I think a little of both,’ she replied.