Good thinking. Deven began pushing buttons on her cell phone, scrolling and swiping until she had navigated to her gallery. She knew she didn’t have many. Kennedy wasn’t really one to take pictures, which was crazy given her boisterous personality and gorgeous looks. So, it took a moment for Deven to even find something. Finally, a picture filled her screen. Deven remembered trying to snap the candid while they were out at a restaurant for dinner one night. Kennedy had tried to throw her hand up to block her face, but she hadn’t been quick enough, and the movement had caused a little bit of a blur. But still, her face was unmistakable, even with her pout and eye rolling at Deven’s spontaneous photo shoot.

Deven angled the phone in Paul’s direction, giving him a clear view of her screen. She watched his face for any signs of recognition. Sure enough, it was there. He knew the woman in the picture.

“What the hell?” He seemed angry for some reason as he pointed a finger at the phone. “Why do you have a picture of her?”

“What do you mean? This is Kennedy.”

Paul lifted his head with eyes glazed over in shock. “I don’t know Kennedy,” he said, his words slow as if he were trying to convince himself. “But the woman in this picture is my ex-girlfriend, Amber.”

Chapter Thirteen - Before

Chapter Thirteen

Before

Kennedy wasn’t one to show her vulnerability. She’d always been tough, putting on a brave face despite whatever inner turmoil she was going through. Deven had always loved that about her baby sister. She wasn’t easily broken. Which made it that much more painful to see Kennedy in a state of distress. Even the strong ones had their breaking points. And clearly this assault had exceeded Kennedy’s tolerance.

She sat on the couch with knees drawn to her chest and red-rimmed eyes, relaying the scenario to a stout police officer with lips tinted black from one too many cigarettes. He was nodding and listening, but Deven noticed he looked like his mind was everywhere but present, especially with the scowl on his face. Further evidenced by the way his pen hovered over his notepad but he’d yet to write anything down, she noticed. The bastard.

Deven remained perched at the dining room table as she watched, catching snatches of Kennedy’s recount of the incident. Apparently, she’d been walking to her apartment building from the parking lot when someone in a navy hoodie had started following her. She’d taken off running and the person had chased her to her door. Deven hadn’t even bothered asking where Kennedy had been all day with Deven’s vehicle, or why she’d been a no-show at the hospital. She seemed shaken up enough by what happened.