By. Elizabeth Garden
Gerty double-checked the pad next to the phone. Naval Hospital, Brooklyn New York had been crossed out and underneath it Veterans Bureau Hospital 81, Kingsbridge Road, Bronx, the new facility Raymond had been transferred to in May, was written in her tidy script. “Kingsbridge 7-2130?” “Yes, Ma’am. You might also consider contacting your local police, especially if he returns home.” The thought of seeing everything being normal again momentarily chased away the doctor’s confusing message. Discharged? Police? “Well, yes of course, Sir. Doctor, I mean. Thank you. I will be in touch,” she agreed nervously. “Over my dead body,” she thought after a minute. The local police was her brother Martin, the sheriff. Her father was the Assistant Chief of Police. The last thing she was going to do was tell them Ray was AWOL from the mental institution.