The reciprocal question, the defensiveness . . . Deven was taken back at how she had clearly hit the nail on the head. “Wait a minute, did you give Kennedy drugs? Is that what was going on between you two? You were her supplier?”

“Hell no.” Anger had his nostrils flaring as his eyes tightened to dangerous slits. “And Deven, I know we don’t know each other that well, but you need to watch what you say to me.” The inflection of his threat would have, under normal circumstances, evoked fear. But today hadn’t been normal circumstances. Deven was functioning on determination and no sleep. There was no room to be affected by his intimidation.

Benji released a sigh and unclenched his fist which had unconsciously balled up on the table. “Look,” he said, his tone more conciliatory. “It’s clear you don’t trust me. I get it. I don’t really know you either, except through Kennedy. But right now, something has happened, and we don’t know what. Let’s try to figure this out. Fair?”

A pregnant pause and then, Deven gave a slow nod. “Fair.”

“Now, start over and tell me what happened after the cops came,” Benji said.

So, she did. Deven relayed what happened from that tragic morning when her doorbell rang. She told him how they had escorted her to the morgue, and she had to identify Kennedy by a picture and all the facts she knew, surrounding this mystery woman. He listened intently, not speaking until he was sure she had finished.

“So, the body you saw, it wasn’t her?” he asked, just to be sure.

Deven closed her eyes and struggled to remember the details of the photo. The woman’s hair, her cheeks, her lips, the delicate features that had not been distorted by death. Her thoughts then wandered to the restroom when she’d seen the woman in the mirror, those sunken eyes sad and pleading. Finally . . .

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice cracking with the admission. “I mean, she looked like her. But I’m not 100%. And Kennedy has had so many surgeries . . .” She glanced up, almost worried that she had divulged something perhaps Benji wasn’t privy to. But the understanding upturn of his lips affirmed that he and Kennedy were indeed close enough for those types of secrets. “Everybody thinks that maybe it’s just my denial,” Deven went on with a labored breath. She failed to mention that part of her was afraid they were right.

Benji sat back in the booth, massaging his beard. “Okay, what do we know?” he mumbled as if to himself. “We both know Kennedy told us she was going out of town—”

“Dominican Republic,” Deven added.