Stolen(83)
But Hatcher had bigger plans for Webber.
When doctors in the ER evaluated Caity, she’d requested a tox screen for date rape drugs.
It came up positive for GHB.
And per Harriet Beckerman’s autopsy results, so did hers.
“So suddenly, you’re a true believer in our predator theory?” Caity asked Hatcher, her mouth falling into a straight line.
“I don’t mind saying when I’m wrong. Who’s to say Laura didn’t write that incriminating note under duress? Or that Webber didn’t invent half of what he’d told us about her. If he’s a sexual opportunist, it all fits.”
“Look,” Spense said. “I’m glad you’re coming around to the idea of a predator, because I’m absolutely convinced there’s one on the prowl. But Caity knows Webber . . .”
Hatcher waved both hands in the air and interrupted. “I talked to Tracy Chaucer in private already, and when I told her Webber’s story about Laura standing over her bed with a knife, she had an apoplexy. According to her mother, Laura never threatened a soul.”
“I know how it seems.” Caity sat up straight and tugged the hem of her blouse lower over her jeans. “But Grady doesn’t quite fit the profile.”
“You mean the one you tried to sell me about a cunning, lying sexual sociopath?” Hatcher said. “Seems to me like he does. And I’ve confirmed that both Webber, and his wife Inga, were traveling with the Chaucer family in Amsterdam and Paris when Stella De Jong and Fabiana Luca disappeared. Webber drugged you. You’re exactly our UNSUB’s type—beautiful, brunette, blue-eyed. What do you suppose he had in mind for you last night, if it wasn’t . . .”
“That’s enough.” Spense had to stop himself from grabbing Hatcher by the collar. The detective was talking to Caity like she was an object instead of a person who’d just survived a terrible ordeal.
“What the hell, Spense? Caitlin, I can see. She’s still recovering from a bump on the head, and she has a history with Webber.” He reached for his coat and turned to Caity. “I can understand why you don’t want to believe that a man you’ve been intimate with in the past is a serial murderer. But it’s my job to be objective where you cannot.”
“He’s right on that count,” Spense said. “You’re not thinking clearly about this. We’re looking at an UNSUB who thinks of himself as a pillar of society, someone who uses drugs to control women and believes that’s his right. Someone who’s educated and entitled and thinks the rules don’t apply to him. If Webber’s our man, he’d be very motivated to get you out of the way.”
“Why me more than you? You’re the official FBI profiler. You’re the one who punched his lights out,” Caity replied.
“Because you’re the one who rejected him.” Hatcher jumped into the mix. “I’m no shrink but I know these serial murderers usually have a primary—someone who becomes an object of their compulsion. Maybe you’re the dark-haired blue-eyed girl he’s really after and the other women are all surrogates.”
“Knock it off.” This time Spense couldn’t help himself. He got up in Hatcher’s personal space and poked him in the chest. “Thirteen years ago, when Laura Chaucer and Angelina Antonelli were taken from the family home, Caity and Webber hadn’t yet met. Use your head before you open your fucking mouth again.”
Hatcher stepped back and threw his hands up in apology. “Okay. Sorry. But I’m just the messenger in this scenario. Caitlin should watch her back.”
“I’m watching her back,” Spense ground out.
“Then where were you last night, buddy?”
All his blood rushed to his head. One hand curled into a wrecking ball.
Most people had fight or flight buttons inside them, just waiting to be pushed.
Spense just had the one—and it was programmed to fight.
Dammit.
This was exactly why Caity hadn’t confided in him about Webber.
He counted to ten.
Inhaled.
Exhaled.
Worked his cube.
“Point taken—but watch the way you’re talking.” He’d barely managed to keep the fury out of his voice.
Caitlin offered a conciliatory smile. “It’s okay, guys. I know you both have my best interests at heart. And it’s true I’m our UNSUB’s type, and that I tested positive for GHB. Grady did grab me outside that coffee shop.” She shivered and pulled the afghan around her again. “But I don’t see how he could’ve put anything in my tea. I saw the barista set our drinks out on the counter. At no point after that did Grady leave the table. I didn’t have my eye on the drinks the whole time, but I did have my eye on him. Anyone could’ve slipped something into my tea between the time the barista put it out and the time the server came back from her break and delivered it. Have you guys found Cayman yet?”