going, and Bartholomew Grant’s strong nose. What she didn’t have was the same mother as Lara.
Bartholomew had left Meghan and her mother when she was barely one for a pregnant Anna. It was something that her half sister never forgot and definitely never forgave. Meghan claimed Lara’s mother stole her father. It had created an always present rift that had widened tenfold when Anna was killed.
“Your home-wrecking mother got what she deserved,” the eleven-year-old Meghan had yelled, chilling the young Lara right to the bones.
Meghan’s mother and all her close family and associates had alibis for the murder, so any bitterness they had all felt had been just that. But that didn’t stop Lara from not fighting the rapidly growing disconnect between her and her half sister. They’d barely had contact before then, and, Lara quickly calculated, the two hadn’t talked or seen each other since they were teens.
And now here she was, staring at a memory in the flesh.
But was that memory the one haunting her now? The one sending the texts? Catching Nick’s eye, she pulled his gaze to the phone in her hand and started a message to her team.
The surprise seems to be in the form of my half sister, the bartender. Not sure how’s she connected. Meghan Leary. Cass, check her background?
Lara didn’t get a chance to see if Nick read the text before the bartender moved over to her.
“What can I get—” Meghan stopped. Her question fell away. Her hand and the rag in it froze midair.
Lara might not have liked her half sister, but right then and there she made a decision without any concrete facts. Meghan wasn’t the instigator. She was a potential victim.
Meghan’s surprise at seeing Lara was so pronounced, so genuine that for a moment Lara forgot to speak.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Apparently Meghan could handle the shock better than her younger sister. Her face twisted into a scowl. She still hadn’t forgiven Lara for the actions of their father.
“We need to talk,” Lara said, raising her voice above the conversation next to her. Meghan’s frown turned to an expression of incredulity at her request. Before she could refuse, Lara pulled out her badge and placed it on the bar top. “Now.”
Meghan looked between the ID and Lara.
“I heard you were FBI,” she finally responded. There was no note of surprise or appreciation in her tone. “I have a twenty-minute break coming up in five. Can you at least wait until then?”
Lara wanted to say no. She wanted to tell Meghan that for once in her life she needed to absolutely listen to Lara. And to do it now. However, as Lara looked at her only living relative, she couldn’t help but back down.
“I’ll stay right here until then,” she consented. “Your five minutes start now.”
Meghan rolled her eyes and went back to taking orders.
Five minutes later, on the dot, Lara led them to the table against the wall that Mei had vacated. She took the seat opposite the woman and marveled at how much she’d changed since they’d seen one another. Taller, for sure. Curvy but purposely so. A cluster of outlined birds was tattooed below her collarbone and Lara quickly noted the several piercings on the woman’s right ear. Meghan the bartender wasn’t as clean-cut as she had been when they were younger. What had once been an almost prissy, preppy disposition had obviously evolved throughout the years they had been apart.
Lara wondered if Meghan was cataloging all of the changes in her. Were there any? Yes, there were. She felt it in her bones. The day her mother had been killed had changed her. The day her father had been blamed had only pushed her further. Meghan might still see her as the naive, innocent little girl she’d once been.
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