Behind Her Lives

Briana Cole

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“Pseudo” from Justified

Title Page

BEHIND HER LIVES

BRIANA COLE

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Copyright Page

DAFINA BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Dafina logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.

ISBN: 978-1-4967-3875-2

ISBN: 978-1-4967-3877-6 (e-book)
First Electronic Edition: November 2022

Dedication

As always, to my girl, my sister, and my inspiration. I miss you
more than you’ll ever know. This is for you.
#Forever28

Acknowledgments

Okay, so here I am again finishing yet another book. I’m sure everyone is tired of me thanking the same people, but oh well, I’m thanking them all again anyway. You know why? Because I have people in my life that I couldn’t have done this without. And though no amount of ‘Acknowledgments Pages’ can suffice to show my appreciation, the least I can do is try. Because let’s be honest, they know who they are, but everyone likes a little spotlight every now and then. Plus, they deserve it. So here we go!

First and foremost, I have to praise my Heavenly Father for pouring into me, nurturing my talent, and giving me the strength to get through when all I wanted to do was curl up and cry. I hope people see You, in me.

Of course, I have to thank my parents, Tequila and Anthony (I’m going to retire y’all one way or another, lol). But seriously, you two are my biggest champions and for that, I am eternally grateful. Thank you for putting up with all of my shenanigans. To my bonus family, Lindsey and Courtney, I love and appreciate your support. My monsters, Sean, Eli, and baby BJ. Mommy loves y’all, and I hope me pushing to my goals inspires you to achieve yours. To my man, Ben, you keep me going, baby, I swear. How do you deal with my crazy? Especially during deadline time. I’m so blessed to have you in my life.

To my Auntie Temieka, and my wonderful grandparents, Granny, Papa, and Grandma Sallie, thank you for constantly supporting me, even if my books were a bit much. Y’all still bought them from me and cheered me on every step of the way. (This one is not raunchy, I promise). To my Heavenly grandparents, Mr. Lenwood and Grandma Ann, love and miss you bunches. I hope I’m making you proud. To my aunts, uncles, cousins, I love all one million and seventy-three of y’all.

To my girl, my forever Angel, and sister in Heaven, Paige Christina, as always, everything I do, it’s in your honor, Sis. Remember when you used to tease me about never finishing my novels? Lol. I wish you were here just so I could gloat a li’l bit. I push myself for you, my girl. Always.

To my baby sister River and my brother Malachi, y’all are too young for this but I hope one day you can look back and smile knowing that big sister has written a book or two. To my nephews Gavin and Gabriel, TiTi Bri loves you more than you’ll ever know. God has you. Please remember that. Your mom is watching over you, and so are we. And to my in-laws, thank you for welcoming me into your wonderful family with open arms and hearts. Our like-minded creativity and entrepreneurial spirits brought us together way before Ben knew I belonged with you. Sorry, Ben. They’re my family now.

To the illustrious Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc., with special attention to the Henry County Alumnae Chapter and extra, extra special attention to the 56 D.D.C.C. I love you, Sawrahs.

To my super-agent, N’Tyse, we are working, girl! Four years ago, you said we were about to make magic. Now look at us. Thank you for bringing me on and giving me the wings to soar. To my phenomenal Kensington Family, especially my editor, Esi, thank you so much for believing in me and giving me the creative freedom to thrive in my craft. You all continue to amaze me with your publishing efforts to bring my books to life and I am honored to be part of the team. To my publicity team at BookSparks, y’all have shown out with expanding my brand and elevating my readership. I cannot thank you enough!

And of course, to my bomb ass Brigade! All my readers and supporters who have rocked with me in any way over my career. Whether it’s buying a book, sharing my post, or telling someone about me, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!! I’m passionate about my work because you’re passionate about me. I promise to keep bringing my all with every endeavor. I owe that to you. Let’s ride this thing until the wheels fall off!

“The eye is always caught in the light, but shadows
have more to say.”

—Gregory Maguire

Prologue

Excerpt from the diary of Kennedy (Age 11)

Sometimes I wonder how it feels to die. I’m not saying I would kill myself. I don’t think I would ever have that kind of courage. But I guess I wonder how my death would happen. Would it hurt? Would it happen fast or slow? Would I regret it? Probably my biggest question is, would my family be happy to see me go? My mom probably would. Is that wrong to say? Because it’s true. I don’t think she likes me very much. The thing is, I don’t think I’m a bad daughter. I go to school, and I get good grades (well, except Social Studies because that’s a boring subject). But it doesn’t matter what I do, it’s like none of it makes my mom happy. I’m a little pretty, but maybe she would like me if I looked better. I told Deven once that I couldn’t wait to grow up so I could look like the pretty girls on TV. She laughed and told me I was overreacting. Easy for her to say, since she is Mommy’s favorite. I’m not jealous or anything because I love my sister and she’s really cool. We argue sometimes because I know I can be a little sensitive, but still, she looks out for me. So, it’s easy to see why Mommy loves her the best. I just wish she had a little room for me too. It just makes me sad because I just want to make her happy. And I think it will make her happy if I’m not even here. :-(

Chapter One

Something was off about today. Deven could sense it.

Her sister called it a devenstinct, her therapist called it anxiety. And her boyfriend “joked” it was borderline crazy (though she’d been particularly repulsed by his comment). A Navy friend of hers once called it a lull—that calm before the storm. Either way, the moment her eyes flipped open, only seconds before her alarm pierced the eerie silence, she felt disturbed.

Reaching for the clock on her nightstand, Deven fumbled blindly with the buttons, pushing on each until one of them abruptly suppressed the noise. She sat up straight in the bed, shrouded in darkness, her eyes scanning the shadows of her bedroom as if the source of her trepidation would be evident. Deven could make out the silhouettes of her furniture, her mounted big screen TV, the full-length mirror positioned in the corner to catch the perfect angle of the less-than-spacious master suite. Nothing out of the ordinary, it seemed.

As if to serve as a bitter reminder, the mattress shifted next to her. Deven glanced over as the stocky figure turned, the sheets doing little to shield his naked frame. Justin. The memory of last night came barreling back, the images calibrating in and out of focus like a camera lens.

His call had been out of the blue, like all his calls had been for the past six months since the two had begun this long distance “thing” (could she really call it a relationship at this point?). And since he’d been ignoring her calls for days, Deven had wanted to reciprocate the disrespect. But as pathetic as it was, loneliness eclipsed the stubbornness, and she had answered on the first ring, accepting the dinner proposal before he’d even finished asking.

Knowing his track record, Deven shouldn’t have been surprised when he’d come over straight from the airport feigning jet-lag. Too tired to take her out but evidently not too tired for sex.

Deven was frustrated at his antics. Well, she needed to call it for what it was—downright pissed. One minute, Justin was the doting boyfriend with impromptu gifts and calls. His spontaneity had become a staple and Deven had begun to anticipate arriving home to find him waiting outside, ready to whisk her away to some fancy dinner or event. But then on a whim, Justin requested for his corporate job to transfer him to Baltimore because it was a “better opportunity.” Suddenly, his impulsive nature wasn’t quite as attractive anymore and his decision to leave created more distance between them than the three-hour plane ride. Still, it was clear Justin expected her to go with the flow. His flow. Whether it was loyalty or sheer stupidity, she always did.

Deven frowned as Justin slept on peacefully, completely oblivious to her growing agitation. It was her own damn fault for ignoring her common sense. Now here she was, dissatisfied in more ways than one. On a sigh, she tossed her legs over the side of the bed, suddenly restless and eager for light. As soon as she peeled back the curtains to allow the first strips of the New Jersey dawn to peek through, she immediately felt soothed. And just like that, that ominous feeling was gone, for now. Which was enough to calm her nerves. Thank God. Still, she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself as she looked out at the courtyard of her apartment complex. She was too damn old to still be afraid of the dark.

The apartment was situated in a prime location for Deven’s prying nature. The courtyard was below her second story view, a stone T-shape walkway with benches and picnic tables resting underneath a covered pergola. The walkway was flanked by neatly trimmed hedges opening to plots of gardens that did little to deter the dogs from fertilizing it, despite the sign that clearly read No Dogs in the Courtyard.

A few tenants began to dribble from their apartments, cutting through the courtyard to head to their daily regimens: the two women who worked out together every morning and always dressed in matching yoga pants and sports bras, the family of four that were headed to church in their Sunday best, and the college student who always wore those plaid pajama bottoms since he was usually making a quick run to the neighboring bodega for coffee. Deven should’ve been in her scrubs, rushing right alongside them on her way to work, but she couldn’t bring herself to move from the window. Something was still nagging her. But just like she had deduced only moments before, everything appeared normal.

Deven glanced to the parking lot as a police car pulled in and stopped directly in front of the office. They were probably headed to the couple in apartment A121. It wouldn’t be the first time their domestic violence disputes had gotten out of hand.

“You’re up early.”

She turned her back on the hum of morning activity and watched Justin groan and stretch, the muscles highlighted in his body with the movement. She had to stop herself from staring. Probably one reason why she was in the predicament in the first place. Plus, she had to remind herself that no matter how sexy the man was with his champagne complexion and chocolate brown eyes, that was where it ended. The sex was less than mediocre, or as Deven’s sister once described unsatisfactory sex, “like that sneeze that wouldn’t come out.” Yeah, that was it.

Justin sat up then, the sheets pooling at his waist as he leaned against the headboard. “You working today?” he asked.

Deven sighed and nodded, already dreading the twelve-hour shift at the hospital. “Maybe we could go get some breakfast before I go in,” she suggested. The decline in his eyes was prominent before he had a chance to open his mouth again. “You know what, never mind. Don’t worry about it.” Dismissing her own proposal, Deven turned back around, willing herself to ignore the sting of rejection.

“Aw sweetie, I’m sorry.” Justin rose and crossed the room, closing the space between them. He caressed her shoulders while placing gentle kisses on the nape of her neck. Deven felt her skin warm under his touch. It was a shame he still had that kind of effect on her body. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he reasoned. “It’s just that, I’m only in town for a few days and I got some running around to do before I head back. But . . .” His hands were now making their way under her t-shirt to cup her breasts. “You can do me for breakfast—”

The sudden doorbell startled them both as it echoed through the room. Relief had Deven quickly stepping from Justin’s embrace, glancing towards the doorway as if she could see the visitor through the walls. Justin frowned and, sharing the curious sentiment, tossed a quick look to the digital clock on the nightstand. 7:23 a.m.

“You expecting somebody?” His question had more of an accusatory undertone than Deven would’ve liked and had her rolling her eyes. Did he really have the nerve to be jealous?

Rather than entertain him with a response, Deven shrugged into her robe and belted it at the waist, murmuring a quick, “Be right back,” before stepping from the room. And just because she knew it would raise his suspicions, she closed the bedroom door behind her for more privacy. Pettiness aside, Deven was just as curious as he was about the unexpected house call, so she hurried to answer the front door, flicking on lights as she passed through the hallway. Not bothering with the peephole, Deven flipped the locks and pulled the door open.

She froze, eyeing the two police officers as the first swell of panic ballooned in her chest, tight and suffocating. Now she wished she had made Justin answer the door. Maybe then she could cower somewhere in the bathroom and pretend that these two weren’t here for whatever reason that brought them to her doorstep.

The female officer spoke first, her cinnamon complexion blanched with what looked to be exhaustion or discomfort, both of which were plausible in her line of work. But still she attempted a smile. “Good morning. Are you Ms. Deven Reynolds?”

Deven felt numb but apparently, whatever head gesture she gave them was satisfactory because the woman continued, taking a tentative step in her direction. “I’m Officer McKinney and this is Officer Wise,” she introduced, motioning to the plump man at her side. “Can we come in for a few minutes?”

Deven’s gaze volleyed between the two, her breath suspended in her throat. The look the officers wore was all too familiar. Working as a Labor and Delivery Nurse, it was unfortunately common to identify when tragedy struck; a twin was stillborn, a wife hemorrhaged during her cesarean, that baby girl didn’t make it out of NICU. Each time, the staff, herself included, carried that same haunted look, eyes pained but hollow with desensitization. It certainly didn’t calm her spirit seeing these two mirror that same demeanor.

Now it made sense. That feeling—that devenstinct—she had been experiencing all morning; like a foreboding pendulum teasing her, taunting her. Deven held her breath and shuffled to the side to let them enter. So much for the calm before the storm. Apparently, the storm had arrived.

Chapter Two

“We are here to deliver some bad news,” Officer McKinney began, compassion etched on her pretty face. “Would you mind if we all sat down?”

Deven couldn’t move if she tried so, she just stood in place engrossed in the visceral images of every worst-case scenario that played like a movie on loop in her mind. Had something happened to her mother? Had there been an accident? A robbery? She shut her eyes against the intrusive thoughts as she struggled to let loose the few staggering breaths strangled in her throat.

“Ms. Reynolds?”

It was the man that spoke this time, Officer Wise, his gentle voice floating through Deven’s subconscious like a melody. Just that quick, the morbid thoughts dissipated, and she opened her eyes again. Both officers were watching with such concern that she felt like she may crumble right then and there. And still, she had no idea what the hell was going on.

“Sorry.” Deven nodded her acknowledgement. “What is it?”

“Would you like to sit down?” Officer McKinney offered again.

Deven shook her head. Never mind the fact that her feet felt like cinder blocks. “No. What’s the news? Is it my mother?”

“No ma’am.” Officer McKinney paused, took a laborious breath, then, “Your sister, Kennedy, died of what appears to be an accidental drug overdose.”

Shock was an understatement. More like numb. Deven hadn’t realized she was clenching her jaw until the tension had her head throbbing. She swayed, immediately throwing up her hands to ward off the officer who reached in her direction.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered. Something warm bled into her chest before seeping up to bubble out of her lips. Laughter. Was that her laughing? Deven tossed her head back, the movement causing even more pain to rupture her skull. Still, she couldn’t stop laughing at the sick and twisted cops who had traveled all the way to Mt. Laurel just to tell a joke.

Neither officer seemed surprised by her reaction and the way they just waited and watched prompted Deven to purse her lips together; a weak attempt to stifle the last few remnants of her chuckle. “Sorry,” she said again, a restrained smile toying at the corners of her lips. “It’s just, that is crazy. Kennedy doesn’t do drugs.”

“A woman was picked up at 918 Parkwood Avenue.” Officer Wise launched into his explanation like he hadn’t heard Deven’s words. “Apartment B2. Is that your sister’s address?”

Deven’s heart skipped a beat. Sure, that was her address, but . . .

“I just talked to Kennedy a few days ago,” she assured them, desperately relieved at the memory. “She’s out of town.” It was a mistake. A huge mistake. She couldn’t fault the police for their ignorance.

“How is Puerto Plata?”

Kennedy’s voice was light, the sound of waves harmonious with her merriment. “Beautiful, Sis. Next time you should come. I’m sure you could use a vacation.”

“How long are you staying?”

“I’ll be back in another week.”

Deven shook her head again, her voice strengthened with a renewed vigor. “She’s out of town and won’t be back until next week. She wouldn’t have come home without telling me.”

Officer Wise looked back to his partner, an obvious nonverbal cue for her to pick up the conversation. “Your sister was nonresponsive in her home this morning,” Officer McKinney said then, her tone patient. “She was already gone by the time paramedics arrived.”

“That’s not true.”

“Ms. Reynolds, I’m so sorry, but Kennedy has died.”

Deven’s body stilled before the first few involuntary convulsions caused her muscles to ache. Now it was something different she felt, consuming her body like flames. She blinked and shook her head again, willing those damned words out of her ears.

“What the hell is wrong with you people?” she said, trying her best to keep a leash on her temper even as angry tears touched her eyes. “How could you say something like that? Why would you say that?”

“We’re going to need you to come with us to identify Kennedy’s body.” Officer McKinney’s voice was calm, sickeningly so. A direct contradiction to her words. It felt like a vacuum sucking the air out of the room. Out of her lungs. Deven braced herself against the wall on legs that felt like putty. They were wrong. So, so wrong. The tears were coming now, hot and heavy acidic drops burning her cheeks crimson.

“Is this some kind of joke to you? My sister doesn’t take drugs. Fuck you and get the hell out of my house.”

“Ms. Reynolds—”

“Get out!” Deven was screaming now, and she didn’t give a damn how deranged she sounded. That’s what she got for being so curious. She should’ve let that damn doorbell ring until the batteries gave out. Officer Wise and Officer Too-Damn-Nice could’ve knocked and knocked until their knuckles bled. Then Deven could have put the covers over her head and avoided waking from a dream to a nightmare.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Justin padded into the foyer; a pair of basketball shorts slung low on his hips. Sleep clouded his face, but his eyes immediately widened at the sight of the uniforms. His arm circled Deven’s waist. She welcomed the support, however territorial, and leaned into him.

“I’m Officer Wise and this is Officer McKinney,” the man introduced with a nod in his partner’s direction. “Are you Ms. Reynolds’s husband?”

“Friend.” Justin’s tone was clipped as if he took offense to the mistake. If Deven hadn’t been so enthralled with the situation, she would have had an attitude about his shitty correction. “What’s this about?” he asked.

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