“Is that why you brought me to her place?”

The conflict flickering on his face was minimal, but clear. To tell, or not to tell. She waited and her gaze never faltered, another silent dare.

“Not exactly,” he decided with a sigh. “Part of the reason was for the gun, yes. And some other stuff. But I am concerned about Kennedy. I swear. She’s like my family too and I’ve always looked out for her, haven’t I?”

He had a point. A small one, but a point, nonetheless. Still . . .” Why were you trying to get the gun?”

“It’s not . . .” He paused, and she could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “It’s not registered to Kennedy. I don’t want her to get in any kind of trouble.”

Deven’s eyes rounded. “She stole a gun?”

“No, she didn’t steal it.” Benji’s exasperation was becoming more and more evident. “I gave her the gun. It’s not stolen. I just don’t want the police to trace it back to me. That’s all.”

So, something illegal. Her assumptions about him had been right. “Is my sister dead?” she asked. Her voice was so calm, given the situation, it surprised herself.

The question seemed to extinguish his combativeness and Benji gave a helpless shrug. Under the tough exterior, he was visibly hurting. That part was transparent. “I really don’t know,” he said. “She could be and that’s why I’m worried. Because I don’t know.”

His confession weakened her. In one sloppy motion, Deven knocked the jeans on the floor and dropped onto the chaise. This was too much. So, the woman, the picture, the drugs? It didn’t make sense. It was like, all the pieces were there but they just didn’t fit. She felt like she was looking at things through a very weird, very distorted kaleidoscope. There seemed to be a pattern, but the more she analyzed, the more it just gave her a headache.

Deven looked to Benji who just stood back, watching, waiting. Debating. “Benji, what is going on?” she pleaded. “Please tell me. Was she on drugs? Was it suicide?”

“Your sister . . .” A beat. “Kennedy may have made a few enemies in her lifetime.”

“Enemies? Why? Doing what?”

“She had a stalker before.” Benji sighed and now it was his turn to sit down. Deven scooted over to make room, still in shock about his revelation. “It was years ago,” he went on. “An ex. He . . . killed somebody to get to Kennedy then he came after her.”

“Wh—what happened to him?”

Another pause, this time longer. “The police got to him,” he said simply and Deven couldn’t tell if he was lying again. “He’s not the issue though,” Benji went on. “The issue is, because she’s had a stalker before, she could have another one. She was saved last time, but what if . . .”