You Betrayed Me (The Cahills #3) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,71
to the side. “There was just this attraction. One you couldn’t fight. And then we were in bed, just loving each other. I’ve never felt so . . . womanly.”
Mendoza’s expression was unreadable. Before Sophia could elaborate, Rivers asked, “What about Megan Travers?”
The girl exhaled and shrugged. “It was over between them.”
“Did Megan know that?”
“Of course she knew. Women know.”
Mendoza prodded, “But James hadn’t told her.”
“I don’t think—I mean no, I’m sure he didn’t.”
For the first time, Sophia seemed uncomfortable; one hand reached up to fiddle with a tress of blond hair.
“So can you tell us where you were on Thursday?” asked Mendoza, clearly ready to get down to the pertinent facts.
“Sure.” Another shrug, this time with a swallow of Diet Pepsi. “I worked until six, in the office, drove into town and went home—no, not straight home.” She shook her head, pale hair skimming her shoulders. “First, I went to the gas station and filled up. My tank had been on empty for a day or two. I was practically driving on fumes, so I stopped down at the station on Sixth. After that, I picked up a salad at Charlie’s Deli and went home. I thought about hitting my yoga class but didn’t go as I was late, so I just showered and binge-watched three episodes of The Bachelor that I’d recorded.” She met Rivers’s gaze before looking at Mendoza again. “Exciting life, I know.”
More exciting than you’re admitting. At least that’s what he suspected. “Did you see James?”
Her eyebrows arched as she took another sip from her soda. “At work.”
“What about after work?”
She was already shaking her head. “Not until I went to the hospital. I heard about what happened at work the next day. Bobby Knowlton had told some of the staff, and we all knew. I busted down there to visit him.”
“That day?” Mendoza took a sip from her cup but didn’t stop typing.
“No. Well, yes. I mean, I went there, but I couldn’t see him because he was in a coma. I think the first time I really saw him and we talked was last Sunday. And he wasn’t all that great then, either.”
Rivers asked, “Did he tell you what happened to him?”
“He couldn’t remember, but obviously Megan was behind it.”
“Obviously?” Mendoza repeated.
“Well, yeah.” She stared at Mendoza as if she were dense. “The scratches on his face? Those were done by a woman.”
Rivers agreed.
“I figured he’d finally told her about us, or she’d found out somehow and they’d had a big fight. She attacked him!”
“Rather than the other way around?” Mendoza prodded.
“James would never hit a woman.”
“You know that?” Rivers asked.
“Well . . . no . . .” She lifted a hand, as if the truth were obvious.
Rivers leaned back in his chair. “So what happened to Megan?”
“How would I know?”
Rivers said, “If you were to guess.”
“I couldn’t. And I’m not going to. And don’t you guys work in facts? Not what-ifs? All I know is what I heard, that she left James’s house after the attack all pissed off, and drove like a maniac, almost hitting a snowplow or something. Supposedly, she was going to drive to see her sister who lives in Seattle or Tacoma, I think, but she never made it.”
“Who’d you hear that from?” Mendoza asked as, deep in his pocket, Rivers’s phone vibrated. He ignored it.
“Everybody who works for James. Bobby, Leon, Zena . . . you know—work gossip.”
Mendoza made a note. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“Megan?” Sophia frowned, her eyebrows drawing into a knot of concentration. “I’m not sure.”
“Was it that day?” Mendoza pressed.
“I don’t remember . . . I think . . . I think I saw her in town . . .” She was working so hard to recall, her eyebrows knitted. “Megan works in that clinic off Main, right? The McKay Clinic?”
Mendoza nodded. “The McEwen Clinic.”
“I saw her there, not inside but out,” she said slowly. “She was in the parking lot, getting into her car. It was snowing. Hard. But I saw her. At least I’m pretty sure it was her.”
Rivers didn’t believe there was any doubt. Sophia seemed like the kind of person who knew exactly what was going on. Especially when it was a woman involved with a man she was interested in.
Mendoza asked, “When was that?”
“A few days ago? Oh, wait. I remember now! Tuesday afternoon. I was on the way to yoga, over in the basement of the Presbyterian church? We meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays,