“Alan? What is it?”
“Do you think her moods and erratic behavior could have something to do with her meds?” he asked.
“Technically, yes. It is not unheard of for medication to have the opposite of its intended effect. Patients being treated for depression can become more depressed. Or more paranoid. Would she allow you to call her doctor and-”
“Can they become violent? Seriously violent? Delusional?” He interrupted me.
“Yes.”
He looked down at his hands. His wedding ring glinted. He covered it with his right hand.
“She takes those pills because of me.”
“No. No, she doesn’t.”
He wasn’t hearing me. I could see that.
“Alan, are you all right?” I asked.
He was looking through me, oblivious of where he was or what was going on around him. I waited. One minute passed. And then another. He started to speak and then stopped. Shook his head as if he was having a silent conversation with himself.
“I’ve made a decision.”
I waited.
He didn’t say anything. Then he cleared his throat. I nodded, encouraging.
“When I leave here I’m turning myself in to the police.”
“For what?”
“I lied to you. To you and to Kira and to the police. I killed those girls, those Web cam girls, and I think… I think it will be better for everyone if I admit it now and prevent an investigation.”
I might not have known his name until a few days before, but I knew this man’s psyche. “Alan, you didn’t kill anyone.”
His face was devoid of any emotion except resolve. “Yes, I did. I’m confessing. And I am asking you not to discuss me with the police. Not to tell them whether you think I am or am not capable of murder when they ask.”
“They won’t ask me. We’ve talked about this. I can’t discuss your therapy with anyone unless you want me to.”
“Even if you believe that I am a threat to society, you can’t go to the police?”
“I’m confused. Are you confessing to me so that I will go to the police and help you do this?”
“No. God, no. You can’t talk to them. Do you understand? I’m turning myself in. You don’t have to protect anyone. The only one who knows I was in therapy with you was Kira. No one else. I don’t want you to tell anyone else. All right?”
“Alan, why are you doing this?”
“Dr. Snow, the best thing you can do is to stop asking questions and stop looking for answers. Do you understand?”
He was staring intently at me and, for a second, I felt a jolt of fear.
“Yes.”
His eyes were unflinching, unrelenting. “You won’t discuss anything I’ve told you with anyone?” His jaw muscles tightened and a cord stood out on his neck.
“No. No, I won’t. But I think we should talk about this before you make a mistake you can’t undo.”
“I have to go now. Will you call my wife’s doctor? Will you ask him to go to our apartment? To give her whatever she needs? Will you go see her? If you can’t find him, will you go? I don’t want her to be alone when the story breaks on the news.” He was speaking clearly, but he’d begun to disassociate.
“Alan, listen to me. You are paying me for forty-five minutes, let’s use them. Let me help you. I know you didn’t kill anyone. I don’t even think you are capable of killing yourself. Your ego is too strong. No matter what you’re doing online, sexually, you care about your career. About your wife. You don’t want to do this to Kira, do you?”
His eyes blinked three times in succession.
“I am not doing this to Kira.”
“No. You’re not, are you? You’re doing this to protect her.”
He looked surprised that I’d guessed.
“Alan, is that what you’re doing?”
He smiled just a little and then it disappeared. “What do you mean protect her? I don’t understand, Dr. Snow. What do I have to protect her from?”
“Alan, please. Tell me what is going on.”
“I wish I could have completed my therapy with you, Morgan. I think you would have gotten me to a better place.”
It was the first time he’d ever called me by my first name.
He stood.
I wanted to lock him in my office and make him talk to me, explain why he was taking this drastic step. “If you need me, I’ll come. Wherever you are. Do you understand? In prison, you’ll be allowed to see your therapist. They’ll let me see you.”
He nodded, reached out and shook my hand. His skin was dry and cold but the handshake was strong.
Judge Alan Leightman could not have killed anyone. I was right about that. But I was wrong about him being able to commit suicide. Because he was doing that, in front of my eyes. And there was nothing I could do to stop him.
He turned, walked to the door, opened it and left my office. I watched him march down the sweeping staircase. It was the first time he’d left the Butterfield Institute through the front door.
Fifty-Eight
Noah Jordain and Mark Perez were in the interrogation room, questioning a Hispanic boy who was far too young to have been picked up on rape charges, though that’s why he was there.
“So, who were you there with, Juan?” Perez asked.
Neither detective thought this kid was the one they wanted, but so far they couldn’t get Juan to crack.
“Nobody. I told you that already, man.”
“Hey!” Perez shouted. “No attitude. It doesn’t matter if you told us twenty times. You tell us again. You understand?”
Butler opened the door and stuck her head in. Jordain looked over. “I need you both for a few minutes,” she said.
Jordain got down on his knees in front of the kid. Where Perez had been tough, he was almost gentle. “Listen, Juan, you’re only twelve. If you tell us what really happened last night and the name of the friend you’re protecting, you won’t get into trouble. But if you don’t, you’re going to grow up in jail.” His voice got cold as ice now. “And when it comes to girls? Hell, you won’t see one for years. Think about that for a while. By yourself.”
The two detectives walked out of the room. Butler was waiting for them.
“What have you got?”
“Better to show you than tell you,” she said, and led them down the hall.
“Tease,” quipped Perez.
Butler didn’t take the bait. She didn’t turn around. She just kept walking.
“Have you got something on the Web-cam case?” Jordain asked.
“Maybe.”
He was frustrated that they still were nowhere. Sure they suspected Leightman, but they still didn’t have enough evidence to arrest him. They all knew they couldn’t hang a case on the e-mail. It was too easy. It had to be a setup. If the judge was going to ask the girls via e-mail to use poisoned lubricants, massage oils and Band-Aids, would he use an e-mail address so easily traceable? Okay. So who was setting him up? Why wasn’t he screaming bloody murder and pointing fingers? Was it blackmail? Skeletons in his closet? How were they going to find out?
Butler watched their faces when she opened the door.
“I’m willing to tell you what you want to know, who killed those three women,” Leightman said once everyone was seated. “But I need your word of honor that you won’t ask me to explain anything or discuss any details with you now.”
“We don’t bargain for information,” Jordain said.
“Bullshit, Detective. You bargain all the time. I’ll tell you what I have to tell you. And then I’ll just shut up. Like it or not. My lawyer will handle the rest.”
Jordain hated games. “You’re here. We didn’t call you. Talk or don’t talk.”
“I’m turning myself in voluntarily. I’m responsible for all three deaths. That’s all I have to say until my lawyer gets here.”