She’d lost all sense of reality. That had to be it. Somewhere between leaving Kennedy’s apartment and arriving at Paul’s office, Deven must have slipped into some Twilight-Zone portal where nonsense made sense and the lines of truth had been blurred into some kind of mirage where it was hard to tell where fact ended and fantasy began.

A cell phone was vibrating, maybe it was hers, maybe it was his. Deven couldn’t be sure. But Paul’s comment had siphoned all her mobility and she couldn’t move if she wanted to. Surely, he was joking. Why, she didn’t know. But that would be the only rationale for such absurdity.

Paul grabbed her phone, pinching and spreading his fingers on the screen to zoom in closer on the picture. His eyes narrowed, then widened, a silent confirmation of his earlier analysis. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “You know Amber?”

“Did you hear what I said? That’s Kennedy.”

He shook his head. “I don’t get it. How is this Kennedy? Is that her middle name? She never told me you were her sister.”

Deven retrieved her phone to look at the picture again, though she was already very familiar with it. It had been a last-minute thing to celebrate Kennedy’s promotion. They’d met at a Mexican spot in the city and Deven had mentioned sending the picture to mom. Of course, Kennedy had been opposed but Deven hadn’t cared. So, she’d caught what she could, a frowning Kennedy amidst a table of empty margarita glasses and chips and queso dip. Kennedy had never mentioned dating, much less knowing, Paul. And where the hell did the Amber-name come from?

Deven’s phone vibrated in her hand, an unknown number popping up to temporarily replace the picture. She swiped the screen to ignore the mystery caller and walked back to the chair to have a seat.

“Okay, I need details,” she coaxed gesturing for Paul to sit down as well. “Start from the beginning. Where did you meet Kennedy, what happened? Where is she?”

“Wait, is she dead or not?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.” Deven threw up her hands. “I don’t know. That’s what they say but I don’t know if I believe it.”

“Did you see her? The body?”

The memory of her visit to the morgue had a chill running down Deven’s spine. She wished she could unsee it. “They said that it was Kennedy. I mean, the woman favors her . . . but it’s not adding up, Paul. The woman she’s not—I don’t . . .” Deven shook her head to dispel her own apprehension. “Listen, just tell me where Kennedy is. Do you know?”

Paul sighed. “I told you, Amber broke up with me. I haven’t talked to her in months.”

“Do you have a number for her? An address?”