Stolen(50)
“But you called 911,” Caity said.
“Not me. That was Whit. He said we needed help if we were going to get Laura home. I was terrified, but I looked to Whit for guidance. After he called 911, he called Grady to come over. I—I was hysterical, and Grady gave me a sedative.”
“So then—” Spense pinned Webber with his stare “—you were present on both the evening before and the morning after Laura Chaucer went missing.”
“I don’t care for the insinuation, Agent Spenser. I’ve been a friend of the family for years.”
“And were you a friend of Laura’s, too?” Spense asked.
“Hardly. Laura was an eight-year-old child.”
“Oh, but she adored Grady.” Tracy looked admiringly at her psychiatrist, then added, “Angelina was crazy about him, too.”
Caitlin turned the volume up on the flat screen television that hung on the war room wall. Hatcher and the rest of the task force detectives had convened downstairs in the hotel ballroom, where a press conference was already in full swing, but she and Spense had remained behind. Of late, they’d had more than their share of media attention. Neither of them wanted to siphon the focus off the Chaucer family, who planned to make a direct appeal for the safe return of their daughter.
The commander introduced Hatcher, his lead investigator. Hatcher told reporters about a hiker’s report of suspicious activity in the Eagles Nest Wilderness and the subsequent gruesome discovery of the body of a young woman, late teens to early twenties, with long dark hair and slender build.
A hotline number flashed behind him on the screen. “Anyone with any information about a young woman fitting this description, or any other information you may deem useful to this investigation, please call the hotline.”
A cacophony of voices shouted questions at once. Hatcher pointed, and the camera zoomed in on a short, balding man. The man climbed to his feet. “Ronald Saas—Mountain Times. Is there a reward?”
Hatcher cleared his throat. “I’m going to get to that in a moment.”
“Why not get to it now?” Saas fired back.
“Take a seat and I will.” Hatcher removed his handkerchief from his pocket as if to wipe the perspiration beading on his brow, but didn’t use it. “We have another missing woman. But she is not our Jane Doe.”
A photograph of Laura, standing in front of the Holly Hill College entrance sign, appeared on the screen behind Hatcher. The hotline number was printed in bold across the bottom of the image. “Laura Chaucer, age twenty-one, a student at Holly Hill College was last seen on Monday night, October 21, entering her off-campus apartment. The family is offering a ten-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to her return.”
A shuffling noise sounded from backstage. Then Whit and Tracy Chaucer appeared. An audible buzz started up in the crowd. Once it finally died down, Grady Webber walked to the podium.
“Son of a bitch,” Spense muttered.
“I’m going to hand things over to Dr. Grady Webber, the family spokesperson.” Hatcher made way at the mic for Grady.
“Senator and Mrs. Whitmore Chaucer are unable to speak, due to their grief. On their behalf, I’m begging you, if you have any knowledge of Laura’s whereabouts call this number immediately.” He looked piercingly into the camera. “If you have Laura in your custody, please return her to the loving arms of her mother and father. They miss her. Think of the pain you’re causing . . . if you’ve taken her. And Laura . . .” He spread his arms wide. “If you’re watching this, please come home. No matter what you’ve done, your parents love you.”
Blood rushed to Caitlin’s face. She jumped to her feet. “What the hell did Grady just do?”
“Blamed Laura for her own disappearance, or maybe worse.”
Bile rose in her throat.
“Remember.” Webber turned his remarks to the general viewing audience. “There’s a ten-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to the return of Laura Chaucer.”
Caitlin’s hands clenched at her sides. She swallowed back a stream of expletives.
She and Spense exchanged a glance.
The hotline was ringing.
Chapter 28
Friday, October 25
10:30 A.M.
Elm Street
Denver, Colorado
Cayman had something Laura desperately needed, and until she got hold of it, she couldn’t go home. The locks of hair alone weren’t enough proof. Because of that note, the locks of hair could make her look even more guilty. But if she could get into Cayman’s house, maybe she could find the one thing that could prove her theory: that there were more victims.