“I know Rebecca. She was always there for Megan, always. Megan could be . . . emotional . . .” He pressed his lips together, then continued, “Rebecca was always the calmer one, has a more level head. She would never do anything to hurt her sister.”

Mendoza further poked the bear a bit on that subject, but Cahill didn’t budge. He was adamant that there was no bad blood between the Travers sisters. Rivers wasn’t ready to buy it, however, nor did he think his partner was.

Rivers asked, “How would you describe your relationship with Megan?”

Cahill smiled faintly. “Not exactly rock solid.”

“She’d left before,” Mendoza said. “Twice, right? You filed missing-person reports.”

“That’s right.” He was wary now.

“Did you fight then, too?” Mendoza asked.

“Argued, yes. Let me be clear—it had never gotten physical before.”

Rivers said, “But you were arrested once—”

“A bar fight, a long time ago. Nothing since. Never with a woman.”

Rivers let it go. They grilled him more about the confrontation, asking if anyone else had been in the house or had come with Megan, even suggesting that he might have been the aggressor, but Cahill’s story was set in concrete.

Finally, James said, “I’ve told you everything I know. Haven’t held back, but there’s nothing more to say, and I really have to get back to work.” He stood, effectively ending the conversation, and even Rivers had to admit they were getting nowhere.

“If you think of anything else, call us,” Mendoza said, picking up her phone. Checking her messages as she scrolled, she stopped and read quickly, then glanced up. “Lab’s finished with your vehicles. They’re at the garage. You can pick them up whenever you want.” She slid the phone into her pocket. “If you need a lift, we’re heading into town.”

Cahill gave a quick shake of his head. “I’ll get a ride on my own.” He was obviously anxious to get rid of them. “What about my phone?”

“It’s been cleared,” Mendoza said. “You can pick it up when you get the truck and SUV. I’ll see that it’s waiting for you.”

“Good.”

“Again, if you remember anything else?” Mendoza slid a card onto his desk.

“Got it.” Cahill ignored the card and headed for the door, the dog at his heels. Mendoza took the hint and followed, as did Rivers, though as he passed Cahill’s desk, he swept a pair of sunglasses off the surface and pocketed them before catching up to Mendoza on the steps. He already had the work gloves, but Cahill was the center of the case, and another one of his personal items couldn’t hurt. That was the reason, Rivers told himself. It couldn’t possibly be because he experienced a rush at lifting the shades.