The Woman with the Scar (Costa Family)

“Why’s that?”

“Her door was left open a crack.”

“And that is unusual?”

“In New York?” I asked, scoffing.

“Fair enough,” he agreed, nodding. “But you came in anyway?”

“I was worried,” I admitted. “I wanted to check on her. And then… and then…” I said, swallowing hard.

“Now, you didn’t hear anything before this? No crashing sounds? No screaming?”

“No. I was getting dressed and making coffee. And I heard nothing. How could I hear nothing?” I asked, looking up at him through my watery eyes.

“I don’t know, ma’am,” he said, shrugging. “Can you normally hear what is going on in your neighbors’ apartments?”

“Not really? I can hear the elevator usually, but not what is going on across the hall. Or above or below me.”

“Was Ms. Trent-Wood seeing anyone?”

“No. She said she had no plans on ever dating again.”

“Friends? Co-workers?”

“She didn’t have anyone over really. I think she had a sister staying with her a few months ago. But no one was ever here.”

“Mrs. Polat,” he said, exhaling a deep breath. “Do you have any idea who might have done this to Ms. Trent-Wood?”

How was I supposed to answer that?

Brio and I had never discussed what to say if the police asked me about Berat and Deniz and their…activities.

I knew Brio and the Costa Family wanted to handle the situation. But I couldn’t exactly lie to the police about this, could I?

“I think it was my brother-in-law,” I told him, looking him square in the eye as I said it.

I don’t know if I expected shock or confusion, but I found none of that on Detective Newsom’s face.

If anything, it was like I was confirming a suspicion he already had.

“And why do you think that, Mrs. Polat?”

“Because they had a… tense interaction in my apartment the other day,” I told him.

“A tense interaction about what?”

To that, I exhaled hard, looking down automatically before forcing my gaze back up.

“My husband used to beat me, Detective,” I told him. “And he was really controlling. I think Judy was worried that Deniz was being threatening toward me, so she felt the need to say something to him.”

“Something he didn’t like.”

“I think so.”

“What was said?”

“She said something to him about how she checked in on me, and how girls needed to stick together. I know that doesn’t sound like anything…”

“But it was how it was said,” he guessed.

“Yes.”

“And this,” he said, waving toward the living room, “could be a sign saying what he feels about women who check in or butt in on their business?”

“Yes,” I agreed, nodding.

“Did you see Deniz today?”

“No. No, I didn’t see anything,” I said, shaking my head. “I wish I had.”

“I’m sure the building has cameras we can check,” Detective Newsom said, shrugging. “Do you have any reason to believe you are in immediate danger?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Do your brothers-in-law have access to your apartment?”

“Not if I use the extra locks.”

“Then use the extra locks, Mrs. Polat,” he advised me, closing his little notebook.

“You’re not going to tell them that I think this was them, are you?” I asked, tensing as I followed him into the hall.

“I am going to look at the footage for the building and see what I come up with. I will let you know, if you want, if I am going to bring them in for questioning. In case you want protection. Or to go somewhere safer.”

That was probably against protocol for him to say or do.

Which only made me feel guilty for being dishonest with him the first time around.

“I would appreciate that,” I agreed, nodding.

“Was this unlocked while you were across the hall?” he asked, gesturing toward my door.

“Yes,” I said, feeling dread unfurl in my belly again.

“Want me to take a look around before I head out?”

My pride wanted me to say no.

The part of me that didn’t want to end up with stab wounds in my stomach said I better not turn him down.

“Please,” I agreed, following him as he moved into my apartment, his hand on his gun.

“Are you moving, Mrs. Polat?” he asked once he did a thorough walk-through.

“I have been informed that I can no longer stay here,” I told him, leaving out who said it, but the look on his face said he put the pieces together.

“I see,” he said, sighing. “It looks like you are safe for the time being,” he said, making his way back to the door. “Keep your door locked. Don’t open it for anyone you aren’t expecting,” he added.

“Thank you, detective,” I said, watching as he gave me a nod before he disappeared.

I wasted no time rushing to lock the door before making my way into my bathroom, collapsing against the door and calling Brio.

Over and over and over and over again.

Until I had no choice but to give up.

He never didn’t answer.

In fact, he rarely even made me wait for a text back.