I haven’t texted her since it happened. I haven’t even answered the phone. What do I say after an event like that?
WhatcanI say?
Almost lost my lunch, but thanks for the invite, girl! Hope you like the bassinet.
My fingers slide from the keyboard and land in my lap. I’m a good girl. I mean, I’mmostlya good girl. Yeah, I’ve done some stupid shit here and there, some indecent exposure, and even public urinating whenever I couldn’t hold my liquor. But all those were things my father could easily sweep under the rug. It pays to be the daughter of a real estate tycoon.
But some bills are far too expensive for real estate money to wash away. If I talk to Liya, then I could very well be considered an accomplice to what she did.
She murdered him.
I push away from my desk and march to the window on the other side of the room. Sunlight kisses the glossy windows across the street, striking my vision. It elicits a headache that’s been waiting just on the edge of my peripheral vision. When it hits hard, I rub my temples, trying to ignore the chatter around me.
Until something catches my attention.
“...the place in Brooklyn. Prospect Heights. Supposed to be real nice condos soon.”
I arch my eyebrow without turning around.
“Yeah, there’s a squatter in there. Some woman.”
My interest perks up.
“We have no idea how she got in there. No one was in there before.”
Casually, I turn around and head back to my desk. I settle into my seat and minimize the unfinished email, clicking on the company-wide listing of all properties owned by Austin Real Estate. I find the place in a matter of seconds.
Prospect Heights is gorgeous. The buildings there will make great condos when somebody snags them, but they should have been locked to keep out potential squatters.
I squint at the screen.Oh, this is a fresh listing. That means the doors were unlocked.
The date practically mocks me, reminding me of the horror I witnessed in a room full of Russian mobsters with a maid and the sister of the devil himself.
I was at the baby shower that day.
A curious hum tingles in my throat. The timing is strange. Bringing it up to Daddy could have it handled quickly—or I could take a look at the situation myself. I glance at the clock and smile.
A quick trip to Brooklyn for lunch sounds like just what I need.
***
Subway train wheels squeal on the tracks as I walk up the steps to the street above the Eastern Parkway stop. Traffic putters down the street near Prospect Park, the distinct smell of exhaust and trash smelling as thick as it did near the office.
The brownstones of Prospect Heights rise up in neat rows of reddish-tan. Steel chrome porches and charcoal outline the ornate windows. There’s an air of old New York regality to the neighborhood. Everything from the clean facade to the recessed buildings seems designed to appeal to a very particular taste. The building I’m searching for comes into view. It’s sturdy, beautifully painted, and above all else, looksempty.
A man on an electric bike rolls up to the curb next to it in perfect timing. The UberEats stickers on his helmet inspire me to jog after him.
Thank God for college kids who don’t give a fuck.
The moment the door buzzes open, I rush in after him before the door can close. He turns around in surprise, sees my reddened face from the jog, and hands the bag over to me.
“Have a good one,” he calls over his shoulder, and then he leaves.
I grin, realizing he thinks I’m the one who ordered the food.
Perfect.
I make my way up the stairs until I stand in front of the unit in question. The door is unlocked, and my heart thumps in my chest as I give it a slight push. I didn’t grab a description of the woman or any other facts about the situation. She could be someone from Liya’s side of the street—or it could just be a huge coincidence. There’s no telling who’s about to open that door.