The Last Day

SIXTY

Natasha led Ward to the kitchen and showed him the obituary.

Louis A. Gismano, Jr., seven years of age, died of complications from injuries sustained when he was struck by an automobile on April 3, 2005, at NorthEast Medical Center. Louis, known as Gizmo to friends and family, was the beloved son of U.S. Army Sergeant Louis Anthony and Evelyn Gismano of Fayetteville, N.C. Burial services are being handled by Sullivan's Highland Funeral Service in Fayetteville.

“Jesus,” Ward said. “You knew him?”

“He was hit by a car. The driver was a drunk, a boy named Howard Lindley. The child was brought to the emergency room. I'd have to look at his records to be sure, but I remember that he had multiple fractures, and internal bleeding, so I went in to address the bleeding. I removed a ruptured kidney and his spleen. After surgery he was in critical condition, but he should have lived. They put off setting the fractures to allow him time to gain strength, and there was too much swelling to address that anyway.”

“You just said you killed him,” Ward added.

“I didn't murder him, but I missed something that wasn't immediately apparent in the initial workup, or during my first surgery. He was unconscious, and there was a damaged wall in his aorta that blew out. They rushed him back into surgery. I cracked his chest but there was nothing I could do. The father didn't get to the hospital until after the child died. I wasn't there when he arrived, but I got a call and was on my way to explain what had happened, but before I got to the ICU, security stopped me. They'd called the cops, so I never talked to the father. I was told not to talk to him, and I was also told he was screaming, ‘Gizmo. You bastards murdered Gizmo!’ ”

“I remember that,” Ward said, remembering how upset his wife had been at the time.

“A panel of physicians reviewed the case, and they ruled that there was no contributory negligence. Nobody could have known about the weak wall in his aorta, and there was no evidence to support a malpractice suit. I never heard another word. I'd forgotten all about it. I mean, I did the best I could given what was known.”

“What made you remember?”

“I don't really know. I queried Gizmo first. Next I added obits and then NorthEast Medical Center, because something told me my memory of the name was connected to my practice.”

“He was a soldier. Jesus. It's got to be him in that hole.”

“Yes,” she said. “What if he still believes I killed his son?”

“I'll call the police,” Ward said.

“Call Todd,” she said. “Let him call them. He'll know what to say that will get their attention. He'll know what to do.”