“Let’s get started,” Mendoza said and ran through the preliminaries, typing onto an iPad, and taking notes despite the camera recording the whole interview. After having Sophia state her name, she asked, “What’s your address?”

She gave the address, then added, “It’s a studio. Cascadia Apartments.”

Mendoza asked, “So how long have you been in Riggs Crossing?”

“Six, no, it’s almost seven months now.”

“What brought you here?”

“Work. I mean it’s kinda crazy. I was living in Portland, and—”

“Oregon, right?” Rivers clarified, then took a sip of his coffee, which was tepid and weak. He set his cup aside.

“Yes, they’ve got that whole ‘keep Portland weird’ vibe going, and I liked the idea, and there was all the bicycling. It seemed cool, y’ know. But the rain. More like a constant drizzle. Y’know, the weird Portland thing got old after a while. So, I saw this job at a Christmas tree farm—well, actually a hostess position at the inn—and I thought it sounded like fun, a change of pace, and I especially love the winter season, y’know? So I applied.”

“How’d you find out about the job?” Mendoza asked.

“Online.” She said it as a matter of fact, as if that was the way things were done these days, and she was right.

“Is that where you met James Cahill?” Mendoza asked, glancing up from her screen at Sophia. “At work.”

“He personally interviewed me,” she said, nodding. “Personally.” Did her eyes shine a little bit more when she spoke of him? “I started the next week as a hostess, originally, but I ended up tending bar and working the desk at the hotel, as well as waitressing in the café out back during the busy season, just filling in wherever.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “I’ve also helped out in the office, for the tiny homes.”

“As a receptionist?” Mendoza asked.

“Well, yeah, and I took a couple of years of accounting in community college, so I can do more. I kinda do whatever’s needed, like bartending or table waiting.”

“A jill-of-all-trades?” Mendoza asked and took a sip from her cup.

She lifted a shoulder.

Rivers said, “You moved up pretty fast.”

“I’m smart,” she said. “I know that sounds like I’m bragging, but it’s just the truth. And I’m loyal. There’s a lot of turnover at the inn and Christmas tree farm. Some of it’s to be expected, as a lot of the work is seasonal, and people move on. And then there are the people who just walk out. No notice. No nothing. I’m always dependable.”

There wasn’t the tiniest hint of duplicity in her blue eyes, at least none that Rivers could detect, but it still rang somewhat false.

Mendoza asked, “So when did you and James first get together?”

“You mean . . . ?”

“When did you become a couple?”