Page 106 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

Traffic cameras had been checked, where they existed, but, of course, there were none in the mountains. As they crested the summit, where snow-shrouded evergreens guarded the road, he wondered if Megan had gotten this far. Had she even made it out of the town?

The crumpled note she’d left came to mind:

J—

I’m leaving you.

This time forever.

You’ll never see me again!

M

Was it a suicide note?

Or just a breakup message?

Or a desperate cry for attention from a woman who wanted to shake up her lover? That seemed far-fetched, but he’d seen worse in his years on the force in California. Twice before, Megan had been reported as missing, the reports both filed by James Cahill. This time he’d been in the hospital. Would he have let the authorities know if he hadn’t been laid up? The whole case was blurry and undefined, more questions than answers. That would have to change.

Rivers squinted into the lowering winter sun, and Mendoza informed him that yes, the state police were already on it, searching the area from the air.

“And you doubted them,” she chided.

“Just double-checking.”

“Uh-huh.” She glanced out the window and changed the subject. “Pretty up here.”

And possibly deadly, he thought, but didn’t want to ruin her take on the beauty of nature.

* * *

“I’m telling you, that Charity woman, she’s driving me nuts!” Lenora said, her words as clipped as they had been when Rebecca was a teenager and had gotten into trouble. It sounded as if she were driving, ambient noise audible over her distressed words. “It’s harassment, that’s what it is. Harassment!”

“Just avoid her.” Rebecca stripped the few things she’d hung from the small closet and tossed them onto the bed of her hotel room. She was finally leaving Riggs Crossing. Something she should’ve done days ago.

“That’s impossible. That little reporter found a way to get past the guard the other night, and I almost had her arrested. She was trespassing and bothering me and the neighbors. June? Lives two doors down on my street? She saw that woman in the very same van cruising around the fitness club the day after she showed up here. Following me! Can you imagine?”

Rebecca could. She’d dealt with Charity Spritz herself, knew how determined and nosy she could be. “I don’t know what to tell you. She’s bothered me too.” Though the reporter’s calls had definitely waned in the last couple of days. Probably because she was in California bugging Lenora.

“I’ve called her boss, let me tell you, some vile man, Earl Dean something or other—”

Earl Ray Dansen, Rebecca knew, but didn’t correct Lenora.

She glanced at the desk in the hotel room, really just a table, where her laptop was recharging, her notes already stacked, a copy of the local newspaper folded after she’d read every column inch of it.

“—I gave him a piece of my mind. I don’t mind if he’s got someone trying to find out what happened to Megan; of course, I

don’t. The more help, the better, but that woman was harassing me, and I’m Megan’s mother, have never set foot in that little town, so why in the world . . . Oh, I’m ranting, aren’t I?” she said.

“It’s okay,” she lied. It was easier than arguing.

“I’m on my way to the club, if I can avoid that reporter. After I’m done at the gym, I’ve got dinner with Mel. I’ve told you about him, right?”

“Yeah, Mom, you have.” A dozen times. Maybe twenty. Mel Davis, the sexy, retired stockbroker Lenora had met at bridge club and who was now pressing to move in. “He’s a very nice man. Quite possibly ‘the one,’ if you know what I mean.”

The one . . .

How many billion people were in the world? Seven? Or was it eight? What were the odds of finding “the one,” who just happened to have joined the same club as you? The “one” who had been married four times already?

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