Hatcher pointed a finger at Saas. “Tell Agent Spenser and Dr. Cassidy what you told the rest of us.”
Okay, not wasting time with introductions and small talk. Fine with her. Saas undoubtedly knew Spense and her from all the attention the media had showered on them anyway.
Saas crossed his arms over his chest. “Laura Chaucer scheduled an appointment with me for Monday night, but when I checked my calendar, it had been canceled. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting the young lady, but I did see her this morning. She came to my office around eight, on her own steam, under no apparent duress, and demanded a meeting. She did give a false name—Ruby Rogers. My assistant wanted to help her and agreed to work her in. But then, when I was about to go out and greet her, she turned and ran out of the office.”
“We’ve confirmed Mr. Sass’s story,” Hatcher said. “Cliff reviewed security footage. CCT caught Laura in several campus locations over the course of this morning—unaccompanied and unharmed.”
So why did everyone look so damn miserable? Why weren’t they toasting the good health of Senator Whit Chaucer’s prodigal daughter? Obviously she hadn’t returned to the fold.
“You should’ve called it in.” Grady narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Saas.
“I told you already, or maybe I told the detective. I recognized her from having seen her in publicity shots with her father, but I didn’t know Laura was missing until the press conference. She came to my office around eight a.m., before the announcement.”
Caitlin didn’t quite understand either. “You said she canceled her meeting with you earlier in the week. But you were seen at dinner with her Monday night.”
“I did not meet with her. I don’t know where you got your information but it’s absolutely false.”
“Didn’t you interview him to confirm Cayman’s account?” Spense asked Hatcher.
“Cayman and Senator Chaucer spent the better part of Tuesday looking for Laura, and reported her missing late that night. Wednesday, we put this task force together and got boots on the ground. Mr. Saas was scheduled to come in on Thursday for questioning—but as you know Thursday we had matters to attend up in the wilderness. We had to reschedule him for later today.”
“And you didn’t know why the police wanted to talk to you?” Caitlin asked Saas.
“No one told me jack, except that it was about one of the students at Holly Hill. Had Detective Hatcher bothered to inform me of the situation, naturally I would’ve called the instant I saw Laura. I would’ve had campus security detain her. Don’t try to put this on me. You people blew it.”
“We don’t inform you vultures in the press of anything until we’re ready for the entire world to know,” Hatcher said gruffly, then turned to Spense and her. “Got any more questions for Mr. Saas before I kick him out?”
Caitlin nodded. “Are you in the habit of dining out with female students?”
Saas jumped to his feet. “No.”
“Then why set up a dinner meeting with Laura, and why did she cancel?”
“I don’t know the reason. My assistant deleted the meeting on the calendar. I don’t know who called to cancel or why. I don’t normally take students to dinner, but Laura is the daughter of . . .”
He didn’t have to finish. Everyone knew whose daughter Laura was, and clearly Saas had wanted to give her the VIP treatment.
“She claimed she had new information about the death of Angelina Antonelli. You can’t blame me for nipping at bait like that.”
“So you did talk to her when you set up the dinner?”
“Yes, my assistant put her through at her request.”
“But she didn’t hint at the information?” Chaucer asked.
“Not a peep.”
The senator got to his feet and extended his hand. Saas shook it. They both glared at Hatcher, the guy who blew it.
“Thanks for coming forward with the information Laura is alive. Her mother and I are incredibly grateful.”
“Glad I could help.” Saas turned to Hatcher. “Am I free to go?”
“Don’t let the door hit you.” Hatcher paused. “And don’t leave town without telling us.”
Saas made no answer as he exited the room, and Hatcher pulled the door closed behind him.
“Now that the press has left the building, would someone please tell me why everyone’s so damn miserable?” Spense asked. He didn’t really care who answered him. It was clear everyone else in this room still knew something he and Caity did not.
Chaucer gnawed his lower lip the same as Spense had seen him do during a debate, pondering the matter long and hard, as though world peace depended on his response. In the end he let his wife speak for them.