Kennedy wasn’t appeased, but she nodded again anyway and followed him to the door.

As soon as they were gone, she snapped her locks into place and took one last peek out of the window.

Deven joined her at the glass and watched the men stroll back to their police car. A few neighbors were sprinkled across the parking lot, obviously inquisitive about the cop’s presence. One couple looked up to Kennedy’s apartment and whispered to each other. But other than that, nothing else looked alarming. No hooded figure waiting in the shadows watching for the uniforms to leave.

Deven waited until they had driven off before she pulled the blinds down and drew the curtains closed. “Are you good, Sis?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Kennedy sighed and headed for the kitchen. It was clearly a lie. She didn’t look good. But it was something else. Something Deven couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was to be expected that Kennedy would be slightly on edge after the ordeal, but there seemed to be more simmering under the surface than just shock or fear. She was pissed.

Utensils clattered as Kennedy riffled through her drawers and then cabinets. Deven took a seat on the barstool overlooking the kitchen, realizing she was pulling out the makings for a sandwich. She remained quiet but her attitude was loud. Probably because the police hadn’t done much of anything, Deven assumed. A waste. Seemed like officers weren’t good for anything until AFTER something bad happened.

Kennedy placed turkey on white bread and spread mayonnaise on both sides. Then she cut her sandwich in half like she liked it. Deven decided to ignore the fact her sister hadn’t asked if she wanted one. She wasn’t really hungry anyway. “So, what do you think?” she said as Kennedy bit into her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “You want to stay here tonight, or do you want to go back to my place?”

“We can stay here.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was curt and Deven couldn’t help feeling like she was getting the backlash of Kennedy’s anger.

“What’s wrong?” she asked when Kennedy continued to eat in vexed silence. Her jaw was doing that clenching thing like it did when she was trying to restrain herself.

“Them bastards didn’t even bother looking for—” she smacked her lips to stop her mumbling.

Deven frowned. Did she know the person? “What were you going to say? Do you know who it was?”

Kennedy blinked as if she were remembering Deven was even sitting there. “I said, they didn’t even bother looking,” she exaggerated, her forehead crinkling at the miscommunication. “No, I don’t know who it was.”