Rebecca had nearly done a quick U-turn and gone out the door when she’d found the detective in Megan’s apartment. After being caught at James’s house, she couldn’t believe that she would run into the cops at her sister’s home. What were the chances?

“You’re just no good at all this cloak-and-dagger stuff,” she told herself. She’d driven back to her home away from home in Riggs Crossing, at the Main Street Hotel, a building that had probably been built sometime near the turn of the last century and needed serious updates.

Currently the hotel, like the rest of the town, was decorated for the holidays. A fourteen-foot Christmas tree dominated the lobby, and the massive reception desk was decorated with a lighted garland. Cedar boughs swept up the staircase, and piped in Christmas music wafted through the lobby.

Rebecca beelined up the stairs.

Her nerves were shot.

Too little sleep.

Too many worries.

Too much drama. If she wasn’t so concerned about Megan, she would have wrung her younger sister’s neck. How many messes was Rebecca supposed to clean up for her sibling?

She didn’t want to think about it as she stripped out of her clothes in the closet-sized bathroom and stepped into the shower, where the spray was little more than a mist. Thankfully the water was hot.

James.

His name came floating to her, unwanted.

She frowned, despising the fact that she was forced to deal with him again. She couldn’t avoid him, not until Megan was located. “Buck up,” she said as she poured shampoo into her palm. She hated the fact that she’d been thrown back into contact with him, and wished to high heaven that she could return to her normal life in Seattle, where she worked in marketing for a high-end bridal boutique, whose owner, Angelica Alfonsi, was hoping to expand from Seattle to San Francisco and L.A. She lathered her hair, rinsed off, and let the hot water drizzle down her back. This wasn’t the first time Megan had gotten herself in trouble, not by a long shot, but so far, this was the worst.

Unless Megan, in true drama-queen fashion, was just hiding out somewhere while her older sister worried herself sick and interrupted her life all for the sake of . . . what? Megan’s need to be the center of attention? Her desire to hurt anyone whom she perceived was out to get her?

Meaning James?

“For the love of God,” she whispered. Certainly, her sister wouldn’t be so self-involved that she would want everyone close to her and now the police to be thinking the worst and frantically searching for her. Even Megan couldn’t sink that low.

Or could she?

“Don’t go there.” She turned off the spray, toweled off, and pulled on her bathrobe. As she did, she thought of Detective Rivers.