“And?”

“Not much,” Mendoza admitted.

Actually, so far the information was a near bust. The cell phone records had given them nothing, nor had the interviews with her coworkers added new insight. The truth was, they were stymied, and until James Cahill copped to regaining his memory, they were at a dead end, which they didn’t tell Megan’s sister. But based on the way she was eyeing them and the dismissive way she dropped her pen onto the table, she seemed to sense it.

They asked a few more questions and got no more answers that were of any help. When they were finished and Rebecca Travers stood to leave, her face hardened. “Find my sister, Detectives.”

And then she walked out the door.

Forgetting her pen.

Rivers scooped it up. “I’ll walk her out,” he said to Mendoza, even though Rebecca was in the hallway. Pocketing her pen, he caught up with her and held the door as she walked into the parking lot.

“If you think of anything else—” he began.

“I’ll let you know.” But she didn’t even cast a glance over her shoulder as she walked crisply to her vehicle, a white Subaru parked in the lot. Rivers watched her leave, then returned to the interview room as Mendoza was gathering her iPad and notes.

“She orders us to find her sister?” Mendoza snorted.

“She’s upset.”

“Yeah.” Mendoza was staring at the empty doorway. “But . . .”

“But what?”

“But there’s something more going on there. With Cahill. Did you notice? Whenever his name was brought up, she kind of gritted her teeth.”

“Like she hates him.”

“Maybe.” Mendoza’s eyes narrowed. “But you know what they say about hate?”

“There’s a fine line between hate and love.” They walked out of the room and into the hallway, and Rivers added, “You think Rebecca Travers is still in love with her sister’s boyfriend.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a man came between sisters.”

“And you think she had something to do with her sister’s disappearance?”

“I don’t know. Yet. But I’ll find out, and if I’m right, we might just want to talk to Ms. Travers again.”

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 18

He remembered.

Just like that.

James stepped into the shower on Monday morning, turned on the spray, careful to keep the bandage covering half his head dry, and in that clarifying split second, his memory rushed back—all kinds of images. As he stood under the streaming water in his hotel bathroom, he saw Megan as she had been then. That night. So furious she could barely speak. Tears glistening in her blue eyes, her lips, shiny with lip gloss, pulled back over her teeth.

“You shit!” she’d yelled, shaking and sputtering. “You fucking, two-timing shit!”