Stolen(60)

“A nervous breakdown is one thing. Killing your friend is quite another,” Hatcher said.

“Well, of course I’m just hypothesizing. You’re the detective.” Webber made a half bow to Hatcher. “But we know Laura’s never recovered from her childhood trauma. Just suppose the anniversary triggered a psychotic episode in which Laura was driven by an irresistible impulse to re-enact that awful day.”

“So she lures her friend, Harriet, who looks like Angelina, up to the same wilderness area where she was taken as a child, then stabs her, strangles her, and dumps her body? Fuck you, Grady. My daughter didn’t do it.” Chaucer doubled his fists.

“Then why won’t she come home?” Hatcher asked.

“Maybe the delusional part is true. Maybe because it’s the anniversary of her kidnapping and she’s off her meds, she thinks the kidnapper is after her again,” Whit conceded.

“That seems possible,” Tracy said, then turned to Webber. “Doesn’t it?”

“I think we should warn the public Laura may be dangerous.” Hatcher grimaced.

“This is preposterous,” Chaucer said. “You cannot warn the public my daughter is dangerous based on unsupported bullshit. That could put her in danger.”

“Can you live with it if we don’t say anything and something else happens . . . someone else gets hurt?” Tracy’s voice broke. “Are you worried about Laura or about your public image?”

“Both if it’s all right with you.”

“No. It most definitely is not all right with me. Just once, can’t you put your family first?” Tracy went to Webber and stood beside him. “I’m not letting you run the show this time, Whit. I’m going to stay right here. I want to be included in all decisions regarding our daughter. I don’t give a rat’s ass—” she stuck out her jaw “—how this looks to your constituents. I want Laura home safe and lord knows I do not want someone else’s daughter hurt because we didn’t do the right thing.”

A vein bulged in Chaucer’s neck. “You’re so infatuated with Grady Webber you’re buying into his lies about Laura.”

Her back went ramrod straight. “My feelings for Grady have nothing to do with this.”

“They sure as hell do. He’s got you bamboozled into believing your own daughter, my sweet Laura, is a murderer.”

“I trust Grady. He knows Laura better than we do, and that’s the God’s truth. If she’s done something wrong, she’s not responsible.”

Caity put her hand on Tracy’s shoulder. “Look, you’ve offered a reward for Laura’s safe return. That means the public may try to intervene if they spot Laura. Until we know more about her state of mind, I suggest we advise the public not to pursue Laura if they do spot her.” She let out a long breath. “Senator, how about a compromise?”

“I’m listening.”

“What if we say Laura has suffered a trauma and may be emotionally unstable, therefore please notify the authorities if seen, but do not attempt to make contact with her?”

“I guess that would work.” Chaucer sent both Caity and him an imploring look. “Do you two believe this nonsense Grady’s spouting?”

Caity didn’t miss a beat. “Personally, I think Dr. Webber’s theory is highly unlikely. These crimes do seem connected—but that does not mean Laura’s at fault. Earlier today, Agent Spenser and I were putting a profile together that suggested a sexual opportunist may have been responsible for Angelina’s death.”

Tracy gasped. “Oh, my God! Are you calling Laura a sexual predator? You think she killed Angelina?”

“At the age of eight? While not impossible, it’s about as likely as the trout frying up the fisherman for supper,” Caity answered.

“And if we are, in fact, dealing with a sexual predator, then statistically speaking,” Spense said, sending Webber a scorching look, “odds are far better that someone right here in this very room killed Angelina Antonelli and Harriet Beckerman than that Laura Chaucer did.”

The air grew thin and silent. A few beats later, Caity broke it. “And by the way, we seem to be missing one of our key players. What about the bodyguard who gave the false report of Ronald Saas having dinner with Laura? Why isn’t he here?”

“Cayman.” Hatcher shook his head. “At the moment, we can’t seem to find him.”





Chapter 32





Friday, October 25

8:00 P.M.

Hostel Digs

Denver, Colorado



Twenty-one dollars a night was a bit more than Laura had planned on, but Hostel Digs was well worth it. She’d scored a private room, and so far the quarters next door were empty. Nevertheless, she planned to sleep in her blond wig, facing the wall just in case . . . besides, the place was a bit chilly, and the wig kept her head warm—so it all worked out.