Elbows planted on her knees, Caitlin listened intently to Hatcher’s introductory remarks. He stated the time and date. Pointed out the recording devices in the room. Told Grady he was not under arrest and that any statements he made were voluntary. He was free to go at any time. And finally: “Please state your name and your relationship to Laura Chaucer.”
“I’m Dr. Grady Webber, Laura’s former psychiatrist. But my relationship with the unfortunate girl extends well beyond that. I’ve known her since she was a babe in arms.”
“How’s that?” Hatcher asked.
“Whit and I go all the way back to the debate team at CU Boulder. Pledged the same fraternity, too. Of course our frat-boy days are long gone.” He laughed.
Typical Grady, Caitlin thought, amused by his own cleverness no matter how small.
Nobody laughed with him.
Grady cleared his throat. “After college I did med school and residency in Denver, and eventually started a psychiatric practice here. I also landed a job at the local teaching hospital. Whit married and settled with his wife, Tracy, in the bedroom community of Piney Trails, just a few miles from my place. We’ve remained good friends—best friends until lately—he’s become so . . . important . . . these days. But I digress. As you know—I believe you, Sergeant Hatcher, interviewed me that very day—Laura was kidnapped at the age of eight. That’s when and why Whit asked me to step up in a professional capacity. Thank God Laura was unharmed physically by her abductor, but I’m afraid the ordeal caused severe psychological damage.”
“Post-traumatic stress?” Hatcher asked.
“Sure. But it was more than the usual nightmares, unpredictable outbursts, and what-have-you. Her grasp on reality was tenuous at best. Whit was desperate to get her help, and I was happy to be of service. I’ve been Laura’s psychiatrist since the day she was found covered in her nanny’s blood.”
“You mean until she fired you,” Spense corrected.
“She didn’t fire me.” Grady’s chin jutted forward. “When Whit was elected to the senate his entire family moved to DC. Though Inga and I often traveled with the Chaucers during my vacations, I could hardly leave my practice and my post at the hospital and relocate full time for one patient. Not even for one as important as Laura. She transferred to another psychiatrist in DC, a Dr. Duncan. That’s all. No one has ever fired me.”
I fired you from my life. Caitlin didn’t say what she was thinking. Grady Webber was a tough man to get rid of. Maybe he’d used Laura to keep his relationship with the powerful Whit Chaucer going. Maybe that’s why he’d kept her in therapy for more than a decade. To Caitlin’s way of thinking, long before ten years had passed, Grady should’ve either made enough progress to end or greatly reduce the frequency of therapy sessions, or else he should have referred Laura elsewhere. “But she didn’t come back to you even after she returned to the area. So basically . . .”
“Phrase it however you like, Caitlin. If you want to make it seem as though Laura chased me out the door with a broom, go ahead. It’s not true, but my ego isn’t fragile.”
Really? A secure man didn’t need to put on the kind of airs Grady did.
“Let’s move on.” Spense waved his hand around.
“When she arrived in Denver, Laura simply didn’t wish to continue therapy period. Nothing to do with being dissatisfied with my care. Dr. Duncan had encouraged her to take a break and see how things went.”
Like any therapist worth his salt who wasn’t trying to milk his patient for all she was worth, Caitlin thought. “How do you know that? Did you communicate with Dr. Duncan?”
“Whit told me. He was worried.” Webber sighed heavily. “Rightly so, it seems. Whit thought Laura needed me, and he wanted me to reach out to her. I didn’t. I wish to heavens I had, but I could hardly be expected to predict something like this would happen since I’m no longer privy to her daily thoughts. Now, I can’t help but wonder what if . . .”
“What if what?” Spense asked, as though irritated by Grady’s habit of leaving sentences unfinished. “Just say what you mean.”
“What if I had reached out to her like Whit asked me to do? Could I have prevented this? I thought it would be better to let the child come to me on her own.”
“She’s not a child. She’s twenty-one,” Caitlin said.
“And I’ve known her since infancy. So pardon my thinking of her childhood with fondness.”
“I doubt she thinks of it fondly,” Spense said, deadpan.