Page 153 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

“Yeah,” Sinclaire agreed. “Her car is here, but she isn’t?”

“And the garage was locked. Does anyone else know the combination to your lockbox?” Rivers asked.

“No.” Sinclaire shook his head. “Well, aside from the two of us and the neighbor.” He pointed down the snow-covered lane. “Frank Miller. He comes up here more often than we do, and so he can get in if he sees something wrong. But that’s it, right, honey?” He glanced at Jennifer, who didn’t meet his eyes. “Honey?”

She let out a sigh. “Well, remember? We gave the code to Gus once. He was delivering firewood.”

“But he never showed. The wood dea

l fell through.” Sinclaire shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Gus isn’t involved in all of this.”

Rivers wondered.

Gus Jardine’s name kept coming up. Just here and there, always on the fringes.

“I’m telling you I’m gonna sell this place,” Harold said, draping an arm around Jennifer’s shoulders. “We just don’t need the headache.”

Sinclaire and Korpi watched as the Toyota was secured onto the flatbed and the tow truck lumbered off, almost too big for the little bridge spanning the creek.

Rivers hoped they would get lucky, that fingerprints or some other bit of evidence would be located in the car, that there would be a clue to what had happened to Megan Travers, but he wasn’t betting on it.

By the time they left the cabin in the woods, it was after seven, and they stopped at Lucy’s, ending up in a booth near the one where they’d met Andie Jeffries, Mendoza sliding onto one high-backed bench, he opposite her. The place was crowded, conversation drowning out the oldies music, several waitresses hurrying from one table to the next, the sizzle of a deep fryer adding to the cacophony. Mendoza ordered a meatless burger and sparkling water. Rivers decided on chicken-fried steak and french fries with a Coke, as he was still on duty. A beer would have to wait.

“You’re killing yourself,” Mendoza observed when the orders came and thick gravy oozed over the side of his plate.

“In more ways than one, I’m sure.” He grabbed the bottle of catsup and squeezed out a huge puddle onto his plate, right next to a pile of steaming fries. “And the jury’s still out on fake meat. You know, it can be made with some kind of three-D printer. How nutritious can that be?”

“But oooh, so yummy.” She cut the damned thing in half, exposing layers of pickles, tomatoes, onions and lettuce, before she took a big bite. “You’re missing out.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You notice how Gus Jardine’s name keeps coming up?” Rivers asked, once he’d taken two bites of the steak. “Always on the periphery, but there.”

“Uh-huh. Which links Jennifer.”

“Maybe.” Rivers thought about it. Took a swallow of soda. “Maybe there’s another connection.”

“Other than that his sister was dumped by James Cahill?”

“For Rebecca Travers, not Megan.”

Mendoza raised one hand and tilted it back and forth to indicate she wasn’t convinced. “Maybe it’s the samey-same. You know, get back at whatever woman he’s currently dating.”

“Thin.” He cut off another bite of steak, plopped it into his mouth.

“I can see your arteries clogging from here.” She grinned, teasing, her dark eyes flashing.

“You’re just jealous.”

She snorted and stared at his plate. “Hardly.” Then she looked up at him again. “Okay, if you don’t buy my theory, then what?”

“Not sure yet. Maybe Gus Jardine has another connection to Megan.”

“So what is it? Why would Jardine—what? Kidnap her? Force her to drive to Sinclaire’s cabin? Then . . . snowshoe out? Have another vehicle waiting? What would he do with her?”

“Maybe they were in it together,” Rivers said, thinking aloud. “She fights with Cahill, meets up with Jardine; they stash the car, and she hides out.”

“Why? Makes no sense. What would be the point? Revenge for Megan, but what’s in it for Jardine?” Her eyebrows raised inquisitively, and then she made a bleeping sound, like the buzzer on a game show when the contestant fails. “Not buying it.”

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