With that kind of talk, Webber would have the Chaucers on the defensive in no time.
Spense rubbed his tight jaw. “Everyone, just sit down and we’ll explain what’s going on.”
Tracy and Webber complied but Chaucer approached Hatcher. “I’m not sitting down. Not until you tell me why we’re here. Last night, you were all set to come to the apartment. Now you’re stalling, making a federal case out of my wife wanting her doctor present.”
“Like we said,” Hatcher responded with commendable calm. “For Laura’s sake, we’d prefer to keep this between us, but of course if you’d like to have someone present—like an attorney—that’s your right.”
“I don’t want an attorney!” Whit slapped his hand against his thigh. “I just want to know where my little girl is. Have you found her? Is she . . . is she dead?”
“No, we haven’t found her,” Spense answered immediately. The Chaucers had waited long enough for the news. Even though it was their own fault—they’d postponed the meeting until morning and then showed up late. Still, he didn’t want them imagining the worst one second longer.
Whit collapsed onto the couch next to Tracy and covered his face with trembling hands.
Tears began to stream down Tracy’s cheeks. “Oh, thank God. Thank God.” She met Spense’s eyes. “I was sure you’d found . . . something terrible. She’s alive?”
Spense looked to Hatcher to take the lead. Most of this was going to be made public at the press conference, but it was up to the detective to determine which details to reveal. Some would be held back—likely, the existence of the cabin, for example—for the sake of the investigation. And until cleared, both parents were, in fact, persons of interest.
“We hope to find Laura alive. But we can’t say for certain that she is. The reason we brought you in today is we found the body of a different young woman in the Eagles Nest Wilderness.”
Chaucer’s face went completely white, and his head bobbed like he might faint. “You didn’t find Laura?”
Caity rushed to the senator and his wife with bottles of water she took from the mini-fridge in the room.
While Tracy encouraged her husband to sip, Hatcher repeated, “The young woman we found is not Laura.”
Hatcher waited for Chaucer to regain his sea legs, and then continued. “Perhaps our finding a Jane Doe and Laura going missing are completely unrelated events, but then again, there may be a connection. It’s imperative we locate your daughter as soon as possible.”
“How can we help?” The senator reached for his knees, clasping them with both hands.
“We just have a few questions.”
“We’ll tell you everything we can, but Whit and I were both back in DC when she . . . when she . . .” Tracy’s voice broke. “You don’t think whoever killed this other woman has our Laura, do you?”
“Maybe you should call a lawyer,” Webber said aside to Whit.
“Shut up, Grady,” the senator ground out. “We’re going to give them whatever they need.”
“I think that’s wise.” Caity took a now empty water bottle from Chaucer and handed him another. “You both look dehydrated. Try to remember to eat and drink, even if you’re not feeling hungry or thirsty.”
The senator and Tracy nodded, but said nothing.
Hatcher pulled out a notebook. “I know we went through this when you first arrived from DC, but just for the record, do either of you have any idea where your daughter might be? Did she give you any indication she might leave town, take a trip with a friend, that kind of thing?”
“No. We don’t know anything. We haven’t talked to her since we got home from parents’ weekend.”
“And how did that go? Was she in good spirits? Did you argue?” Spense asked Chaucer.
“Parents’ weekend went fine.” Chaucer sat back, the color finally returning to his cheeks. “Laura was a bit anxious, maybe even a little blue, but not more so than usual. She talked a lot about her classes, and she said she’d made a friend who didn’t care that she was a senator’s daughter, and who didn’t know about her past. We didn’t argue about anything—to speak of. The only issue between us was that she wanted more independence from her mom and me. She reiterated that she didn’t want a bodyguard.” Chaucer looked down at his feet. “So, yes, I lied to her. I promised her I wouldn’t force the matter, and then I kept Cayman in place here in Denver with orders to stay on her. You’ll have to ask Cayman what happened after that. My wife and I took a private jet back to DC, first thing Monday. I had an important meeting on the Hill at eight a.m. If I hadn’t done that—kept Cayman in place, I mean, we wouldn’t have realized she was gone until much later. Maybe we still wouldn’t know. So don’t blame me, Tracy. It was the right thing to do.”