Stolen(19)

“And she didn’t seek you out on her own, so she probably didn’t think you’d be of any use,” Hatcher added.

Bad cop, bad cop?

“No, but then again, she was only in town a short while before . . . before . . .”

Caitlin leaned in and looked him in the eye. “Before she disappeared, again. After all the years you treated her, you ought to know her inside out. But that doesn’t explain how more of your therapy could’ve prevented her disappearance. Or do you know more than you’re saying about what happened to her? Do you know where she is?”

Grady’s eyes snapped. His face flushed. “Do you?”

“You told Spense and me that doctor-patient confidentiality didn’t apply in Laura’s case because she might be a danger to herself or others. You said you were willing to talk to us. And to the police. Maybe the limo ride over wasn’t a good time to get into it, but what’s stopping you now?”

“Could I get some coffee?” Grady looked around the room as if a waiter might appear.

Detective Hatcher scraped back his chair. “Anyone else want a cup?”

Spense and Caitlin declined.

Hatcher went to a sideboard that contained shelves stacked with cookies and bottled beverages. There was a small fridge below, typical of ones provided in hotel rooms. He scrounged around and produced a cellophane-wrapped sandwich, then brewed a cup of single serve coffee. No one spoke during this time. Spense amused himself with his Rubik’s cube while Caitlin held a staring contest with her former mentor.

Eventually, Hatcher set the coffee, a bottle of water, and a ham sandwich in front of Grady. “Just thought I’d get a jump on any requests, so we can keep going without interruption. Did I miss anything? I could get you a cookie.”

“I had one already—while I was sitting around waiting for you three to call me,” Grady said, back up, feathers ruffled. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Yes, let’s,” Caitlin agreed. “You were just about to tell us what you think happened to Laura. Apparently, you don’t think she’s been kidnapped.”

“I never said that.”

“You implied it.” Maybe he did believe Laura had been abducted, but was looking for a way to give them information without risking his medical license. As long as he gave lip service to the idea that Laura might hurt herself, he could reveal her confidences and stay within the letter of the law. There were other ways around doctor-patient confidentiality, but the Duty to Warn statutes were probably the easiest.

“I said she might be a danger to self or others.” Grady stuck with the wording that would keep him in the clear. But Caitlin hadn’t expected him to emphasize the others side of things.

Hatcher’s eyes widened like a ghost had just popped up and hollered boo. “You think Laura Chaucer might be homicidal?”

“I didn’t say so.”

“Actually, you did,” Spense said.

“I said she might be a danger to others.” Grady squirmed in his chair. “Or she might be in danger from others. You’re the detectives.” He gave Caitlin a look that made it clear she wasn’t a detective either, and he resented her inclusion in the task force. “And as investigators, I think you should know that Laura suffered more than a simple case of post-traumatic stress disorder. She was clinically depressed, and she was afflicted with paranoia, delusions, and occasional hallucinations.” He paused for effect. “She was plagued by the notion that she might have killed Angelina.”

“Surely you relieved her of that idea during her ten-plus years on your couch,” Caitlin said.

“I don’t employ a couch in my sessions. I’m a systems therapist not a psychoanalyst. You know that.”

“And you know what I mean. It’s not reasonable to suggest that a little girl strangled her nanny and stabbed her over one hundred times, after what? Convincing Angelina to hitch a ride with her into the mountains? From a logistical standpoint, it’s virtually impossible for an eight-year-old to have done it. I’d think you’d have made it your primary goal to hammer the facts home to Laura and lift that burden off her shoulders. Because as long as she believes she might’ve killed her nanny, she can never fully recover from the trauma inflicted upon her. She isn’t responsible for Angelina’s death, and you should’ve helped her to grasp that.”

“You don’t know everything, Caitlin. Laura argued with Angelina. She got very, very angry and shouted something like I could kill you. Next thing she knows, she wakes up in the mountains, covered in blood, near Angelina’s body and can’t remember anything about what happened. It wasn’t as easy to convince that child she didn’t do it as you might think—and in fact I had no luck in that department. The best I ever accomplished was to persuade her to give herself the benefit of a reasonable doubt.”