“Donald adopted me when I was almost four, I think, and my biological dad was all about giving up his rights so he wouldn’t have to pay child support any longer—not that he did much anyway, I guess. At least, that’s what my mother said.”

Mendoza nodded, as if she totally understood. “You’ve contacted them—your parents?”

Rebecca nodded. “They were . . . are . . . concerned, and I told them I’d keep them informed. I think Mom wanted to come up here, but then thought ‘why?’ What could she do?”

As far as Rivers knew, neither of Megan’s parents had contacted the police. Odd. But then, with families, one never knew. Still, he made a mental note to check with Kate Mercado, the deputy who had taken statements from many of Megan Travers’s family and friends.

Mendoza said, “Tell us about her relationship with James Cahill.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows flicked up, just a fraction, and the corners of her mouth tightened a bit. “I don’t know the ins and outs of it. They’d been together for several months, six or seven.” Rebecca sighed. “You probably know that I was involved with James first, and so it was kind of dicey between us.” Again she twisted the ring. “But lately Megan felt that she could confide in me and . . . and she had admitted that things in the relationship were deteriorating.”

“How so?” Mendoza prodded.

“They hadn’t been getting along for a little while, maybe a month or so, I’m not really sure, but Megan called me a couple of times, and it sounded as if she’d been crying.”

“When was this?” Mendoza asked.

“The first time was a few weeks ago. Maybe around the first week of November. At least, that’s when she told me about it. She suspected he was seeing someone else, and she was upset because she’d thought they were . . . exclusive.” Rebecca’s eyes seemed to darken. “I’m not sure James saw it that way. He . . . he’s always been . . .”

“. . . interested in other women?” Mendoza asked.

“What Dad used to call ‘playing the field.’ So yeah. I think Megan thought he was ‘the one.’ At least that’s what she told me.”

Mendoza said, “You said you were involved with James Cahill before your sister was, right?”

Rebecca’s jaw visibly tightened. “Yes.”

“You were in love with him?” Mendoza pressed, and a telltale blush crawled up Rebecca’s neck.

“I . . . thought so.”

“Until Megan came along?”

She gave a sharp little nod, picked up the coffee cup, then set it down again without taking so much as a taste.

“So would you say she stole him from you?” There was no judgment in Mendoza’s voice.

“You can’t steal something that doesn’t exist,” Rebecca said dryly. “James and I dated, yes, but we were never really a couple.”

“But he went from you to her, right?” Mendoza said.