Officer McKinney was waiting in the lobby when they arrived and immediately waved them on back. Instead of her office, this time she headed to an interrogation room that felt stiff with its gray walls and ceiling. A single metal table sat in the middle, edged with four matching chairs that only enhanced the uncomfortable atmosphere.

Officer McKinney gestured for them to have a seat. “Can I get you two a water or anything?”

Deven wouldn’t be able to hold down anything if she wanted to. The worry coupled with Paul’s coffee from earlier was already doing a number on her stomach. “I think we’re okay,” she said, and Paul agreed. Now left alone, she began to pace, unsure of what to expect. McKinney still hadn’t explained anything, and even Paul had been clueless.

“Do you think they found Kennedy?” she asked, her eyes cutting to the two-way mirror dominating one wall.

“No, they probably would’ve told you that over the phone.”

Deven swallowed. Yeah, that did make sense.

“Why don’t you sit down, Deven?”

“I can’t.”

“Listen, I know this is troubling, but whatever happens we’re going to handle this. Okay?” His smile was comforting which broke Deven’s heart even more. Why had she slept with him and threatened their entire friendship?

The door creaked open, and they both turned with bated breaths. Officer McKinney entered again and stepped to the side to allow someone else to pass first. The woman strutted through, hands on hips and a scowl etched on her face. She looked to be in her thirties, with mocha-brown skin and hair slicked into a high ponytail that bounced with her stride. She reeked of luxury and entitlement, from her Dior heeled boots to the Birkin purse dangling from her manicured fingertips. Not to mention the jewelry winking from her neck, ears, and wrists like she’d just stepped off a runway.

Right behind the woman was her mini-twin, a girl looking to be in her late-teens, maybe high-school or college. She, too, was dressed fashionable and expensive, but she didn’t carry that same attitude as her companion. She peered from behind designer-framed glasses, her baby face nearly hidden in the mane of curly hair.

Deven looked between them before tossing a concerned glance to Paul. It just kept getting messier and messier.

“Ms. Reynolds,” Officer McKinney spoke, closing the door for privacy. “This is Ms. Wright.”

“Amber Wright?” Deven glanced at the woman, ignoring the roll of eyes at her apparent ignorance.

“Yolanda Wright,” she corrected with a raised brow. “As in, wife of Benjamin Wright of the Wright Hotels.” Yolanda pulled the young girl closer, the gesture protective as much as it was controlling. “This is our daughter, Amber. The one whose identity your thieving sister stole.” Amber lowered her eyes in apparent humiliation. Deven could only feel sorry for her.

“Listen—”