Prologue: Before She Went Missing

"Naomi and I were the closest in our group. We immediately bonded over the stress of law school, particularly first year exams.  Don't get me wrong, everyone in the group was close and has done their best to remain in touch over the years, but Naomi and I had a different relationship. We talked about everything, things that we didn't tell the others" I said with an exasperated sigh, meant mostly for myself, but it came out harsher than I anticipated. 

"Over the last twenty years, Naomi and I spoke at least every other day, and sometimes multiple times a day, particularly when she was deciding whether to quit the law and take on a less stressful job. Naomi's senior partner, Brian Stantonze, was really hard on her. Things got worse between the two of them when she rejected his advances at a firm happy hour. He actually tried to kiss her right in front of everyone, can you believe that?" I paused for a second, remembering how angry I was for her. I'm sure that anger was displayed all over my face. After a long pause, I continued. "Naomi made a formal complaint to human resources at her firm, but Brian beat her to the punch.  He actually told the human resources manager that Naomi had been stalking him and then threatened his wife. Naomi never got the details, but it was clear Brian was more powerful than her and that no one was going to support her side of the story, the true side. She was immediately transferred from the business litigation department to the real estate group, a practice area she knew nothing about and for which no one was willing to train her. And, of course, the gossip mill took over and she became completely isolated and even a little depressed."  I started to tear up and asked if I could take a break.  I got up and went to the restroom before receiving a response.  

When I got to the restroom, after confirming I was alone, I put my hands on the sink, stared at myself and said out loud, you can do this Ayla, you can do anything for Naomi, and she needs you now more than ever.  Woman up and get back in that room.

When I walked back into the room, the detective looked at me quizzically, but he didn't say a word.  I sat back down and picked up where I left off.  "After about a month of torture, Naomi decided it was time to change course, so she called her former sister-in-law, also Asher's sister, and asked if her company was hiring pharmaceutical sales representatives."  I could tell the detective's curiosity peaked there, but he continued to stay silent, which made me very uncomfortable. Anyone who knows me well also knows that I hate silence and have to fill the space, so that's exactly what I did, but very carefully. Being in a police station made me super nervous, and this particular detective, a tall, strikingly handsome and potentially single Detective Tommy Barnes, did nothing to assuage my discomfort.  Instead, he sat there and stared at me during the entire interview while I babbled on.

"Naomi's former sister-in-law, Aliza, was very kind. So was Asher, but he and Naomi fell out of love with each other. They tried for a while, but the love was more platonic than romantic. Anyway, Aliza and Naomi were friendly enough and she kindly offered to give Naomi's resume to her supervisor. After a few interviews, Naomi got the job, which was unsurprising.  No one could resist Naomi's intelligence and charm." That felt a little gratuitous, but it was true. Naomi was entirely loveable. She had the air of a woman who commanded a room, and that's exactly what she did, but without making people feel small.  She built everyone up around her, even those who didn't deserve it.

After what felt like an hour, Detective Barnes finally chimed in with his first question, "where is Asher right now?"  I paused, only briefly, and hoping Detective Barnes didn't notice, although he seemed like the type of guy who didn't miss a thing.  I recovered as quickly as I could, trying to remember what I was supposed to say, and then repeated "I spoke with him this morning. I assumed he was at his house, but I didn't ask him.  He was inconsolable, worried about Naomi."  "What do you mean by inconsolable, Ms. Abrams" said Detective Barnes.  I responded, perhaps too quickly, "well, he hasn't been able to reach her for a few days, like the rest of us.  Although he and Naomi divorced, they remained good friends" I said, hoping he believed me, largely because it was true, at least mostly true.  I thought Detective Barnes would inquire further, but he went back to his silent state, leaving me to figure out where I left off and what to say next. Instead of following my natural instinct, I sat back in my chair, folded my hands in my lap and waited for Detective Barnes to speak next.  When he did, he said "I'm going to ask you to wait here Ms. Abram’s, while I question your other friends.  Keila, Gary, Olive and Lior are in separate rooms, but we haven't been able to locate Asher, as I said.  Again, do you have any idea where he is? I shook my head in denial. He tilted his head, and simply walked out of the room.

Knowing I was likely being watched, I stayed seated and put my hands over my face to show my concern, but I was really going over my statements, hoping I hit all of the points that Asher, Keila, Olive, Lior, Gary, and I discussed before the interview.

"That will never work, Ayla.  They will never buy it.  We have to keep our stories straight and your story is so complicated, it ensures we will get caught," said Gary, pacing up and down the hallway of Olive and Lior's new beachfront condo.  Olive and Lior purchased the condo seven months ago, after Naomi and Asher's divorce, in part so they could visit Florida and their friends more regularly and in other part so Naomi would have a place to crash after the divorce. Asher and Naomi owned a beautiful home near downtown St. Petersburg and were still working out how to divide their assets.  It wasn't an ugly divorce, at least that's what Naomi and Asher told everyone, but they needed more time to work things out and living together complicated things.

Olive and Lior flew to Florida two days prior, after learning of Naomi's disappearance, although they weren't given much information before leaving New York. I called them in a panic and told them Naomi was missing, and they took the first flight to Florida that same afternoon.  

We all met at my house, where Olive crossed her long legs while sitting on the thrift store green velvet chez lounge in my living room. She covered herself with my favorite pink throw blanket, while fidgeting with the bun on top of her head, which was looking pretty messy at the moment, with curly red hair falling out, onto her shoulders. Lior sat at the edge of the chez, looking equally frazzled, twirling her fingers nervously through her straight red hair, with her knees tucked into her chest. Olive and Lior could have been twins, but for Olive's green eyes and Lior's amber eyes. Both were tall, at 5 feet, 10 inches, with curves that caused passersby to strain their necks, and a wardrobe that any celebrity would admire. But, in this moment, they looked tired and worn out, and they had good reason. Naomi had been missing for three days, and they didn't know where she was, nor did Gary, but Asher and I did.  We knew exactly where Naomi was, and we had just told the others.

Naomi was missing, sort of. Four days earlier, at around 4:00 a.m., Naomi called me from her cell phone, but I couldn't understand most of what she was saying. Her voice was muffled, but I could tell she was scared. I thought I heard her say "he's coming" but then the phone disconnected.  I had no idea who or what she was talking about. Unfortunately, it could have been a number of "he's."  Naomi had the fortune, or misfortune (depending on how you look at it), of being absolutely stunning, with golden brown skin, dark brown eyes and lips that looked like she had injections, but they were all natural. Men strained their necks just to get a look at her as they walked by. It was gross. One psycho, a barista at the coffee shop Naomi went to every morning, thought it was okay to show up at her house. We still don't know how he got her address, but we can only assume he followed her home. That led to failed efforts to get a restraining order because the system sucks, but Naomi stopped going to the coffee shop and he never showed up again, at least not that she was aware of.  And, of course, there was Brian Stantonze, her former supervisor who caused her to leave the law while he was able to keep his cushy job.  Prick.

Oh, and then there was the rideshare driver, the worst of them all, at least that I know of. During our first year of law school, Naomi had a very scary and bizarre run in with this rideshare driver. We were sharing a car home after grabbing a few drinks and planned for him to drop us off at our respective apartments. He dropped me off first, and then was supposed to take Naomi to her apartment next. It was less than five minutes down the road and Naomi said she would call me when she got home, but the call never came. After ten minutes, I tried calling her phone and there was no answer. I immediately got on my app and ordered another driver. She arrived in two minutes, and I made it to Naomi's apartment four minutes later. By that time, I hadn't seen or heard from Naomi in more than 20 minutes. I ran up the stairs and banged on her door, but she didn't answer. I called her phone over and over and she didn't answer. My heart was racing so fast, I was running on pure adrenaline. How could I let this happen, I thought?  We should have stayed together, we were both too drunk to be alone, especially with a stranger, even if he was a hired driver. A neighbor heard me banging on Naomi's door and yelling her name, and opened her door. She slowly walked toward me and asked if I was Ayla.  I was so confused.  How did this woman know my name and why was she speaking so softly?  It took a minute for me to understand what she was saying, but once my head cleared, I realized she was telling me Naomi was in her apartment and that she had been attacked.

Her neighbor, Sara, who I learned that evening was a bartender at another local bar, found Naomi downstairs in the bushes, bleeding and screaming for help. By the time Sara ran downstairs, Naomi was alone, but Naomi was able to confirm that the driver attacked her in the car. Fortunately for Naomi, she had been taking boxing and kickboxing classes for the last year, and she fought like hell, but the driver was still able to get in a few punches before Naomi was able to open the door and run. She fell in the bushes but screamed as loud as she could. The driver sped off, and Sara found Naomi moments later.

What followed the attack is hard to believe, mostly because of the lenient sentence that the driver, a bald middle-aged man named Scott, received. He pled guilty and received six months in jail and two years of probation. Even more insulting, we later learned he was fired the week before the attack because of complaints from other young female riders that he made them feel uncomfortable, but somehow his app privileges weren't yet terminated, and he was still able to accept rides. A civil lawsuit followed, and settled quickly, but no money would ever be enough to make Naomi feel the same. She suffered from severe anxiety and depression, and even dropped out of school for a semester, but she came back as strong as anyone could and finished school with the rest of us, attending school in the summers to make up the credits.

Fast forward to four days ago. Asher went to meet Naomi for breakfast to discuss when and how to sell their house, but she didn't show up. After about thirty minutes, and multiple unanswered calls, Asher called me to see if I heard from Naomi.  When I told him she also hadn't answered my calls, we decided to meet at Naomi's condo (really Olive and Lior's condo).  When Asher arrived, I was already there.  I told him the door was open when I got there and the lock had been busted, as if someone beat the door down.  Thankfully Asher didn't question my story. He was too distracted by what he saw, which cannot easily be put into words. He only said "who is that lying on your floor?"

Naomi looked up at Asher with panicked and fearful eyes, but she didn't respond to Asher's inquiry. She was completely stunned, kneeling on the floor next to a dead body. Asher walked a few steps toward Naomi and asked again, this time in an angry, but quieter tone, dragging out each word, "Naomi... who... is... that... lying... on... your... floor?" Naomi, still panicked, didn't respond. I couldn't let Asher ask again so I chimed in, "it's Brian Stantonze's wife."  I knew this because Naomi told me two hours ago when I arrived at her house before we both decided to call Asher for help. Naomi called me at 6:35 p.m. whispering into the phone. I couldn't understand anything she said beyond her request that I come to the condo immediately, noting the sound of anguish in her whisper. I rushed to the condo and found her in the exact same position she was in when Asher arrived. I walked over to the body and did not recognize the person. Naomi and I locked eyes, with hers blood red from crying.  She responded in a shaky voice, "it's Eliana Stantonze, Brian's wife." I put my hands over my mouth and started backing up slowly without realizing it. Naomi rushed toward me and grabbed my hands. I froze. I completely froze. My mind was spinning.  There is no way Naomi killed this woman, did she?  There is no way Naomi killed the wife of the man she had an affair with, the same man who ruined her career, right? But what was this woman doing in the condo?  What was this woman doing in Keila and Lior's condo?  How did she die?  How long was she here? "Ayla, Ayla, snap out of it," whispered Naomi in my face.  "Why the fuck is Brian Stantonze's wife lying dead on the floor of Keila and Lior's condo, Naomi?", I said in a tone, more accusatory than I intended. "I don't know, I don't know, I swear to you, Ayla, I have no idea," Naomi responded. "She was here when I arrived. I got home about three hours ago, walked in, started unloading groceries and there she was. I was halfway through putting everything away before I noticed her. I walked over to her and recognized her right away. But I didn't touch her or any of her belongings. I called you right away."  "Okay, okay" I said, trying to calm myself down. "How do you know she's dead if you didn't touch her?" I asked. "Because her lips are blue and she hasn't moved in more than three hours," responded Naomi in a questioning tone. I walked closer to Eliana's body, trying to see if I could figure out what happened to her. There was no blood around the body, and she was lying on the floor with her hands directly by her side, as if she had been placed there and her body staged. I asked Naomi if she had any plastic gloves and she went to her bathroom and returned a few moments later with a box of non-latex gloves. I put them on, walked toward Eliana's body and gently lifted her head up. I gagged from what I saw.  The back of her head was bashed in, but there was very little blood on the floor.  I watched enough Forensic Files to know she wasn't killed here. I also knew Naomi wasn't strong enough to move Eliana's body, at least not by herself. "We have to call the police, Naomi," I said. "No, she said too loudly, "we can't. They will think I did this. Think about it. I had an affair with her husband and now she is dead on the floor of the condo I'm staying in." "Naomi, that was years ago. Why is she here now, dead?" I said.  Naomi just looked at me, doe-eyed. "Naomi, please tell me you weren't seeing him again, please" I said.  She looked down at the ground and launched into a story about how she was lonely after she and Asher separated and how she ran into Brian at the local market and, blah blah blah, I stopped listening and then I asked her to stop talking.  "Does Asher know, Naomi," I asked.  "No, he couldn't. It just started up again about two months ago and we were very careful.  No one knew, they couldn't have" Naomi said confidently. "Okay, give me a second to think" I said. "You're right, if we call the police, they are going to think you did it.  At the very least, you will be a suspect.  We have to figure this out, but we have to be smart about it."  Every episode of Snapped and Forensic Files came to the forefront of my mind.  "There is one person who loves you as much as I do and he will understand," I said.  "Asher has always been quick on his feet and he can help us figure this out, "I continued."  "Ayla, are you having a nervous breakdown?" Naom replied.  "I cannot call my soon-to-be ex-husband and tell him that the wife of the man who I previously had an affair with, and who I recently rekindled a relationship with, is lying dead on the floor of the condo I'm staying at."  "Well, when you put it that way, that makes perfect sense, but Asher is also the man who has been in love with you since the moment he laid eyes on you and would walk to the end of the earth for you, and even bury a body for you Naomi" I said.  "And, we aren't going to tell him that" I said, going on for a few minutes with what I thought was a cleverly crafted plan. Naomi took a deep breath, and after blowing out all of the air for what seemed like three minutes, she agreed to call Asher. When she did, she only told him that she needed his help, and he didn't hesitate. He headed straight over, and as soon as he opened the door, he saw the body.