Deven glanced around in defeat. She didn’t know what the woman had said, but it was clear by her reaction that she had no idea who Kennedy was. She watched the door for a moment longer before deciding to give the landlord a try. Maybe this Marez person knew his prior tenants. But the call immediately went to voicemail and Deven left a half-hearted message that she was doubtful would be returned.

The floorboards of the porch squeaked under her weight as Deven turned back towards the driveway. Apparently, the idea to come out here had been a terrible one. Not only was it a waste but the dead ends were frustrating, not to mention discouraging. What was she doing chasing ghosts?

Deven glanced up as a familiar car pulled to a stop behind hers. The door opened and Paul’s head popped into view over the roof. “Hey, what are you doing?” he said, jogging across the grass. “You should’ve waited for me.”

Deven met him in the yard and jerked a thumb behind her towards the apartment. “I thought I could try and see if someone was there.”

“And?”

“Nothing. Someone else lives there now but she doesn’t know anything.” She hugged herself as another rancid breeze wafted through. “Why didn’t you tell me Kennedy stayed in this place?”

“I had no idea myself until I came looking for her,” Paul said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Amber—well Kennedy, I mean—gave me this address when we first started seeing each other. But we usually met up or she would come to my place. But then again, there’s a lot I didn’t know about her apparently.”

“You and me both.” The acceptance tasted bitter. She didn’t want to admit her sister was a stranger. “What did she steal from you?”

Paul opened his mouth to answer, stopping short with the slam of a screen door. His eyes traveled behind Deven and she, too, looked back to the building, half-expecting to see the Hispanic woman once more. Instead, a man from the adjacent apartment stepped onto the porch with no shirt and the neck of a beer bottle in his pudgy fingers. Deven tried to ignore the sordid image of the man’s plump tummy as he took a lazy sip of his drink. “You need some help?” he asked, leaning on a nearby railing.

Paul spoke up first. “No—”

“Yes!” Deven quickly corrected. She was already pulling out her phone as she hurried back to the porch. It was a long shot, but desperate times . . . She heard Paul right on her heels. “Do you know the lady who lived here before?”

“Sweetie, I know all the ladies.” The man grinned and licked his chapped lips. “Who you looking for?”

“Kennedy. Or maybe she went by Amber.”

The man frowned. “Nah, I don’t believe I’ve heard those names before.”