Rachel Alexander 09 - Without a Word

patient—”
    “Right,” I said, turning back to face her. “And there’s been no court order yet?”
    She shook her head. “Dr. Willet is adamant that the police can’t look through the files without a court order.”
    “The files? Not just Madison’s?”
    Now she was whispering, though we were the only ones there. “That’s the hitch. They’ve asked for everything. Dr. Willet is adamant about protecting the rights of patients, particularly minor patients.”
    “Why everything?”
    Ms. Peach tightened her lips again.
    “Maybe they want to see if any of the other children suffered harm from one of the doctor’s treatments.” I waited, but Ms. Peach had no comment. “Just being thorough, I guess, perhaps because no one actually saw Madison slam that needle into the doctor’s heart. Do most of the kids come with their parents?”
    Ms. Peach nodded. “Except for Madison. She usually came alone. She was, is, a very strange child. Don’t you think so?”
    “I couldn’t say, Ms. Peach. As I already told you, I’ve only met her once.”
    “Yes,” she said, “I recall now, you mentioned that.” She squared her shoulders and backed up a step to the doorway, waiting for me to pass by into the hall.
    “I can’t thank you enough, Ms. Peach. And I wish you all the best.”
    Again, Ms. Peach looked nervous. Perhaps, when I left, her eyelids might twitch the way Madison’s did, as she wondered why I needed to wish her all the best.
    I looked at the locks on the door again on the way out, the heavy iron gate, the gated windows, all backed up by an alarm system. If I were to get Dr. Bechman’s patient list, it couldn’t be by coming back here at night and jimmying the locks with a credit card. It could only be through Ms. Peach.
    “I’m sure everything will be all right,” I said as she saw me out.
    “What do you mean?” Her voice an octave higher than it had been.
    “With your job,” I whispered. “With leaving while the doctor was still with a dangerous patient.”
    I took another step, then stopped and turned back. Ms. Peach did not look well.
    “Was the door locked?” I asked her.
    “Locked? What door?”
    ‘The front door, Ms. Peach.This one. Had you locked it behind you when you left?”
    I could see the panic creeping into her eyes, then the anger.
    “Of course not. The child had to be able to leave.“
    “Couldn’t the doctor have let her out? Wouldn’t that have been a safer solution?”
    “Why, no, we’ve never—”
    “So then the alarm hadn’t been armed, is that correct? And since you were gone and the door wasn’t secured, isn’t it possible that after Madison left, someone else entered the office, while the doctor was returning phone calls, say? You didn’t mention which phone you used to call the police?“
    “The closest phone,” she said, her face flushed now. “As anyone would in an emergency.”
    “Was it on the hook or off when you reached for it?“
    “On the hook. I see what it is you’re trying to do, Ms. Alexander, and I understand why. But you’re wrong. No one else came in after Madison. She was the one who killed Dr. Bechman. Doesn’t the note tell you that?”
    “The note?” I said.
    Ms. Peach wheeled around and walked around her desk, opening the top left drawer, reaching under some papers and pulling out a single sheet. She came back to where I was standing and shoved it at me. “The note,” she said, too upset to remember that moments earlier she’d told me she hadn’t copied it. “The way Madison says what’s on her mind.”
    It was a rather crude drawing, a heart with a shaky line going into the middle of it, just as it had been described to me.
    I stood staring at it. Then I looked into Ms. Peach’s smug brown eyes.
    “Why?” I asked her.
    “Because of the droop,” she said, pointing to her own eyelid. “She had an absolute fit about it.”
    “No, why did you copy the drawing?”
    Ms. Peach just stood there, her face a perfect blank, as if she had been given Botox after all.
    “Well, since you did,” I whispered, “how about if you make one more?”
    She began to shake her head, but I interrupted.
    “Surely making a copy of your copy wouldn’t be against the law, Ms. Peach.”
    She went back to her desk and put the drawing in the copy machine. I heard it click and whir, saw the lights flashing.
    “Were her fingerprints on the note?” I asked. “Madison’s?”
    Ms. Peach turned to face me. “I don’t know, Ms.