Rachel Alexander 09 - Without a Word

that for some reason.”
    “So maybe she called the receptionist at home to ask where he was, if there was some meeting or conference or business dinner he’d neglected to mention?” Why call 911,I thought, when it might just be miscommunication, or a lack of communication?
    “I wasn’t told why she went back, just that she did.“
    “And the doctor was there, dead?”
    “That’s correct.”
    “What about Madison? Was she there?”
    “No. Madison was at home. She came home right after her appointment.”
    “And did she seem upset?”
    Leon didn’t answer my question.
    “Were you there when she arrived home, Leon?”
    “What I say to you, what you say to me, it’s confidential, right?”
    “It is as far as I’m concerned.”
    He nodded. “Well, then,” he said, “I wasn’t at home when she got there, at least not right at that exact moment. I got home about an hour later.“
    “How do you know she was home an hour if she doesn’t speak, if she doesn’t communicate with you?”
    “She always came straight home from...” Leon stopped and looked at me.
    “So when you got home that day, did she seem upset? Was anything different, anything off?”
    Leon shrugged.
    “Not that you noticed?”
    “No.”
    “And when did the police show up?”
    “Late. After Madison had gone to bed.”
    “Were you asleep as well?”
    “No.”
    “And when they came, they told you what had happened?“
    “Yes.”
    “And they showed you the drawing?”
    “No. They described it to me.”
    “And what else did they say?”
    “That no one else was there, just Madison and Dr. Bechman. And then they said that the receptionist had gone back and that she’d found him.”
    “But they didn’t tell you why? They didn’t say she’d been called, nothing like that?”
    “I never thought about it, about why she went back. They were saying that Madison was the only one there and that Dr. Bechman was dead. That’s what was on my mind.“
    “What else did they say?” Wondering if they’d gone beyond implying to accusing.
    “One detective said they’d been told that Madison had a history of violence and that she’d been very angry at Dr. Bechman for the perceived harm he’d done to her. Can you imagine? ‘The perceived harm.’ Then the second detective, he said they were told the doctor had ruined her eye. You see how it was going?”
    I nodded, wondering what the cops thought about Leon that night, first his wife had gone missing and now this, the man getting agitated just telling me about it.
    “What happened next?” I asked him.
    Leon rubbed the back of his neck, looking away, looking anywhere but at me.
    “Leon? I’m on your side. Speak up.”
    “I kind of... I got angry. She’s my daughter and . . .“
    “So you said what?”
    “That they should be ashamed of themselves implying that a child with a disability had committed murder.”
    “Good. That’s good you said that. And what was their... ?“
    “I was yelling—well, yelling softly, if you know what I mean. I didn’t want to wake Madison. But they remained calm. Cool. It was almost spooky. They asked if I was there. You know how they do that? They knew I wasn’t. Trying to trip me up, to make me out to be a liar, the way they did when Sally disappeared.” Leon’s lips tight for a moment, his hands balled into fists. “I told them I hadn’t been there. So then they asked what time Madison got home.” He stopped again, looking at me, then looking away.
    “Confidential, Leon, straight down the line.”
    “I said she’d come straight home, that she was home by five forty-five. Then they asked if she’d been upset when she’d gotten home, if anything was out of the ordinary, and I said no,” talking faster now, “that she was fine, that she did her homework before dinner, watched TV afterwards, went to bed on time, everything as usual.”
    “But you weren’t home.”
    “No, I wasn’t.” Looking me in the eye now, letting me know he’d do anything to protect his kid.
    “And where were you?”
    “In the darkroom. It’s in the basement of the building where we live. So technically...“
    “Yeah, I get it. Technically you were at home, just not in the apartment.”
    He nodded. “So I wasn’t seen out,” he said. “So no one could say they saw me elsewhere.”
    “Meaning no one could tell the police you weren’t at home?”
    “Right.”
    “Not even Madison.”
    Leon blinked. “That’s