“Everyone says so, and yeah, it’s obvious something happened, and I ended up here busted up, but . . .” He met Rivers’s gaze, his eyes slightly defiant. “I just don’t remember.”

Mendoza was clearly skeptical.

“What’s the last thing you do remember?” Rivers asked.

He looked down, appeared to concentrate. An act? To hide his actions? Or a confused man searching the reaches of his memory? “I know that I worked in the shop that day; there’s a home we’re building for a couple in . . . in Oregon. Welches, Oregon. It’s gonna be a ski cabin. Anyway, they wanted it for the holidays, and there was a holdup; the tile she picked out is on back order.” He drew a long breath, wincing. “I called the tile company, and it was too late to reach anyone as they’re on the East Coast, so I hung up, left the office—the office in the main building, where we assemble the houses—then drove to the inn, where I picked up some chili and cornbread to go and headed to the house. After that . . .” He shook his head slowly. “I went out with Ralph, my dog, to look at the horses. I fed Ralph, heated up some chili, and ate it while watching the news.”

“Time?”

“Around six-thirty or seven, maybe. It was the national news, but I always tape it. And then . . .” His eyebrows slammed together, and staring at the floor, he muttered, “Damn it,” under his breath. “And then I don’t know.”

Rivers asked, “Was anyone with you?”

“No. At least not that I can recall.” From the corner of his eye, Rivers saw a nurse slip into the room.

“Did anyone come by?” Mendoza asked. “While you were watching TV?”

“I don’t think . . . oh, hell, I just don’t know, but I feel pretty certain that no one was there when I got home. Just the dog.”

Mendoza asked, “Did you see Megan Travers that day?”

“No . . . well . . . maybe.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin, just under the scratch marks on his cheek. “Was that the day she came to the office?” He thought. “I don’t know.”

“Would anyone else have seen her?”

“Yeah. Well, I think so.” Cahill let out an angry, frustrated huff and glanced out the window. “I really don’t know.” He turned back to Mendoza. “And I don’t want to guess.”

Unfazed, she asked, “When was the last time you do remember seeing Megan Travers?”