He leaned over the desk and started right in. “I came home to the house as usual, about the same time as I always do. And just like every other day, I’d picked up takeout from the inn—chili and cornbread. Once I got home, I grabbed a beer from the fridge and thought I was in for the night. But I guess I was wrong.” He proceeded to explain about Megan arriving and accusing him of cheating on her. How she’d tossed a note at him before things had gotten more violent. According to Cahill, Megan Travers had been the aggressor, working herself into a rage, attacking him, lashing out with sharp fingernails, pushing him. In trying to avoid her blows, he’d stumbled, scraping against the fireplace, his head smacking against the hearth. He didn’t wake up until he was in the hospital. Megan was long gone.

“And that’s it?” Mendoza asked.

“All I remember.” He seemed sincere, though there was a little bit of hesitation.

Rivers asked, “What time was this?”

“Around six-thirty, maybe seven.”

The timeline jibed with what Knowlton and the driver of the snowplow had sworn to. It also meshed with the dog walker’s story of seeing Megan’s car speeding through town.

Still, Rivers wasn’t convinced of James Cahill’s innocence.

Cahill swore he hadn’t had any contact with Megan since that night and had no idea what had happened to her.

Mendoza pushed. “Megan Travers was your girlfriend.”

“She had been,” he admitted.

“But you’d broken up?”

James’s gaze moved from Mendoza to Rivers. “In the process.”

“But you were seeing Sophia Russo at the same time.”

“Yes.”

“Did Megan know?”

“She’d found out. Just like I said.”

Mendoza said, “Were you seeing anyone else other than Megan Travers and Sophia Russo?”

“Don’t you think two is more than enough?” When Mendoza didn’t respond, he clarified, “No, I wasn’t seeing anyone else.”

“But you’d dated other women in the last year or so.” She glanced at her notes. “Jennifer Korpi?”

“Long over.”

“And Rebecca Travers. Megan Travers’s sister.”

Cahill tried not to react; Rivers could almost feel the monumental effort he employed. But it didn’t work. A vein pulsed just beneath the shaved area visible beneath the brim of his hat. “We broke up.”

“And you ended up with her sister.”

“Not my finest hour,” he admitted.

“How did Rebecca Travers handle it?”

“She was pissed. At me. Not so much at Megan.”

Cahill’s return gaze had grown penetrating. Mendoza had hit a tender nerve. “If you’re trying to say that Rebecca had something to do with Megan’s disappearance, there’s not a chance.”

Rivers asked, “How do you know?”