That particular incident had been nearly two years ago, before Megan had met James, but it wasn’t the only one. Each and every time Megan’s shattered life had been thrust upon Rebecca, she’d tried her best to pick up the pieces and glue them back together as best she could.
Until now. Until Megan had stabbed her in the back by taking up with James Cahill. She still remembered the day when Megan had admitted that she’d been seeing James.
They’d been in Rebecca’s condo in Seattle. It had been drizzling, raindrops sliding down the kitchen window over the sink. Megan had been nervous, licking her lips, picking at her sleeve, her blue eyes clouded. She’d come over with a message, and she’d refused to sit down. “There’s something I have to tell you,” she’d said and met the questions in Rebecca’s eyes.
“Okay.”
“You, um, you said that you thought James was losing interest in you.”
Had she? That wasn’t quite right. “I think l said, ‘James has been distracted lately.’ ” Rebecca saw the indecision on her sister’s face. “Why?”
“Well. I thought you should know that I’m moving to Riggs Crossing.”
“To Riggs Crossing?” Rebecca repeated, wondering where this was going. “Because James lives there and . . .” Oh! Her heart dropped like a stone. No! Megan wouldn’t . . . she couldn’t . . . but Rebecca saw it in her sister’s eyes. “Because of James.”
“Yeah.” Megan was nodding. “Look, I didn’t mean for it to happen—honest, I didn’t—but—”
“For what to happen?” Rebecca demanded. But she knew! She knew, damn it. Megan had somehow, someway wheedled her way into James’s heart!
“—but James and I . . . we fell in love,” Megan admitted, a little breathlessly, stars in her eyes as if she actually believed her lies. “I’m moving to Riggs Crossing to be close to him.”
“You fell in love,” Rebecca repeated, feeling the heat crawl up her neck. “With my boyfriend!”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“You got that right.”
“It has nothing to do with you!”
“It has everything to do with me, and you know it.” Rebecca was furious and sad at the same time. “This is a mistake, Megan.”
“I know you’re hurt, and—”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Rebecca cut in.
“But we love each other.”
“I don’t want to hear it! Just go. Go to Riggs Crossing. Go be with James. You’ll find out, but don’t come running back here for me to fix it. Not this time. Because I won’t, Megan,” she’d said as Megan had started for the door. “This time you’re completely on your own!” As Megan had hurried outside into the dark Seattle drizzle, Rebecca had slammed the door after her, locked it, then thrown the dead bolt for good measure. The pain in her heart had been knee-buckling, and she’d slid down the door panels but had sworn to herself that neither Megan nor James would ever know how excruciating their betrayal had been.
That would be her secret, her cross to silently bear.
Yes, that day had been the turning point.
Tears filled her eyes and, furious with herself, Rebecca angrily dashed them away. She stalked to the bathroom, where she turned on the cold water at the sink and splashed it onto her face. “Don’t let her do this to you,” she told her reflection. “Don’t.”
She would talk to the media.
She would make her plea for Megan’s safe return.
And then she would leave.
And what about James?
She conjured up his face, complete with beard stubble, scratched skin, and bandage over one side of his head. He was thinner than she remembered, the edges of his cheekbones and jawline more defined. Well, that’s what dealing with Megan would do to a person.
Rebecca had thought she was well over him, had told herself that James’s betrayal was water under the bridge, a good thing. She’d almost convinced herself that she’d been lucky not to get too involved with him before he’d shown his true colors and ended up with Megan.
But she’d been wrong.
So damned wrong.
As soon as she could, she would put Riggs Crossing behind her. Get on with her life.
Her cell phone chirped from the tangled mess of blankets on the bed. Retrieving it, she spied her mother’s number and inwardly cringed. She wasn’t in the mood for Lenora’s questions, which always made her feel as if she were being interrogated, but putting her off was no answer either. Sweeping up the cell, she crossed to the window and looked down on the street below. Streetlights glowed, reflecting on the ice and snow. Traffic moved slowly through the nearby intersection, and pedestrians, bundled in jackets, hats, gloves, and scarves, hurried across the sidewalk. Big, lacy flakes drifted from gray clouds overhead. The phone rang in her hand again.
No time like the present.
Still staring through the glass, she answered just before the call was routed to voice mail. “Hey, Mom.”
“For a second, I thought you were busy. Or ignoring me.”
And there she was. Lenora Travers. Never one to pass up an opportunity to get in a little dig.
“Just coming out of the bathroom,” Rebecca lied.
And there you are, bending the truth to avoid conflict with Mom.
“I won’t keep you. I just want to know if you’ve heard anything from Megan.”
Rebecca imagined her mother, tall and willowy, her skin tanned, her hair streaked blond from hours in the California sun, her pale eyes worried. “Don’t you think I would have let you know, if she’d called or texted or shown up?”
“Of course, of course, but . . . I’m just so far away.”
Your choice, Rebecca thought, which was wrong. She and Megan were the ones who had moved away. “I know.” On the street below, a pickup with a tarp over its bed rolled through the intersection, and three preteen girls in matching red caps, giggling, their arms linked, made their way under a wide awning and into the coffee shop sitting catty-corner from the hotel.
“And no ransom
