“Kennedy?” she called. “Amber? You in there?” She knocked again, this time a little more forceful.

Then she heard it. Soft first, then a little louder. Footsteps shuffled inside. Deven blinked in surprise and this time, used the side of her fist to pound harder. “Kennedy, open this door!” she yelled, jiggling the locked knob as if it would succumb to her efforts.

Something moved in the window, a shadow maybe? A person? Deven leaned across the porch and cupped her hands around her eyes in makeshift goggles to peer through. The curtain was dark, offering very little in the way of a view with the exception of a sliver of light from somewhere in the room. Otherwise, nothing. Oh God, what if something was wrong?

Panic replaced anger as Deven pounded again, her voice now pleading. “Kennedy, please. Open up.” A thought popped into her head and Deven had to wonder why she hadn’t considered it sooner. The police! She needed to get Officer McKinney down there ASAP.

A rattling sound perked her ears and Deven spun around as a lock clicked out of place. Then slowly, the door pulled open just enough for someone to peek through. The Hispanic woman poked her head out, making sure to keep the door nearly closed. Fear had the woman’s eyes bouncing around and Deven took a surprised step in retreat. No, not Kennedy. She was an idiot to even expect her.

“I’m sorry,” Deven sputtered, lifting her hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t mean to bang on your door. I’m looking for my sister.”

The woman blinked once, then twice, her eyes still wide as she shook her head. “Lo siento,” she murmured in a thick accent. “No hablo inglés.”

Dammit. Deven flipped through the handful of Spanish words she could remember, nothing coming close to being able to communicate what she needed to. “Um . . .” She licked her lips and tried again, speaking slower this time as if it would curb the language barrier. “Do you know my sister, Kennedy? Or Amber?”

Still confused, the woman pointed to the sign on her door, indicating the phone number listed. “Marez,” she said. “El habla inglés. Lo siento.”

Thinking fast, Deven pulled out her cell phone and quickly scrolled to the picture of Kennedy, the one she had used that Paul recognized. She shoved the phone in the woman’s face. “Do you know her?” she asked, her voice desperate. “Have you seen this woman?”

The lady glanced at the picture before shrugging. “Yo no sé,” she said. “Lo siento.” And with that, she closed the door.