“That’s pretty cruel stuff,” says Julia, printing off the article. “If Yasmin can do that, who knows what else she might be capable of.”
Leo’s doubtful. “I don’t know, Julia. It’s a big leap to say she’s involved in Toni’s disappearance.”
“At the very least, it shows form, don’t you think, Leo? Besides, it’s the best lead we’ve got.”
Julia does a search on Facebook for Yasmin, but her page is set to private. Daniel’s comes up though. He’s smiling in his Facebook profile.
“Ah, the good doctor,” says Leo.
Julia scrolls through his timeline. There are shares of posts about UNICEF, Doctors Without Borders, the World Wildlife Fund. Fun photos of him eating tarantulas in Cambodia, deep fried crickets in Laos, and tossing laughing kids into the air in a remote Northern Vietnam village. There’s a photo of Toni that Julia hasn’t seen before. She looks happy. Her blue eyes are bright and healthy. The slight hint of sunburn on her shoulders. In the caption below, Daniel had written: Please help us find our friend. Toni Norris went missing on September 29th. Any information please contact the Turkish police or get in touch with me.
Leo tugs on her arm. “Julia.”
She looks up and follows his gaze to the door. Christine Fletcher and Detective Muhtar are standing there, both looking somber. Julia’s chest tightens.
Her chair scrapes against the floor as she stands. “What is it?”
Christine steps into the room. “You might want to sit for this, Julia.”
Julia’s heart crashes in her ears. “Is it Toni? Have you found her?”
Christine’s eyes shift to Leo, recruiting an ally.
He touches her arm. “Julia, why don’t you do what Christine says and sit down for a minute.”
Julia stands completely still and stares at Christine. “Just tell me.”
Christine exhales, her expression solemn. “We found a body and we think it’s Toni.”
25
A body. The words clang, off-kilter, inside Julia’s head. She’s half aware of Leo behind her, guiding her into the armless chair. She wants to push him away, tell him she’s not a child, but she can’t speak.
“A restaurant worker was dumping lard illegally after hours when he found the body in the drain.” Julia tries to focus on what Christine Fletcher is saying. “We came right away.”
Then Christine stops. As if there’s nothing left to say.
Julia feels their eyes on her, wishes she was any place but here. Imagines she’s back at the hospital and the buzz of a triple bypass surgery when she doesn’t have room to think about anything but the patient’s heart pulsating in her hand.
“In a drain? How is that even possible?” she says.
Christine Fletcher has no answer. Julia wonders if she’s had to do this before. Inform a US citizen of a relative’s death. She wonders whether there are embassy courses or workshops with role plays for delivering such terrible news.
“Where was she found?” says Leo.
“Taksim,” says Detective Muhtar. “On the other side of Galata Bridge.”
Leo frowns. “Why would Toni be all the way over there?”
“We don’t know,” says Christine.
“But you think it’s her?”
“Everything fits. We’ll know for certain when we run DNA.”
“Where is it now? The body, I mean,” says Julia.
“The hospital morgue.”
Julia stands. “I want to see it.”
Detective Muhtar shakes his head. “Not possible.”
“I’m her next of kin.”
“The body’s in no condition for a viewing, Julia,” says Christine, softly. “She’s been submerged for days and the rodents…well, to put it bluntly, the face is a mess.”
Julia feels sick. She stares at the gold medal encased in a Perspex square hanging on the wall. The Golden Horn Hotel won best budget hotel of the year in 1988.
“But we don’t know for sure it’s her, correct? Until the DNA checks out?” Julia says.
“That’s right. But I think you should prepare yourself. Everything fits that it’s Toni. I’m sorry to be blunt but I don’t want to offer you false hope,” says Christine.
“When will the DNA be processed?”
Detective Muhtar speaks up. “A week to ten days.”
Julia’s shocked. “You expect us to wait that long? No, that’s absolutely not okay. I want to see the body, maybe I can identify the clothes or something.” She looks at Christine. “Can you take me to the morgue?”
Christine doesn’t answer.
“Please, Christine. She’s my sister. I need to do this.”
26
They drive in silence. Julia stares numbly out the window as the local population goes about their ordinary day in their ordinary clothes living their ordinary lives. Julia wonders if any of them ever had to bury a sister.
“I’m so sorry, Julia,” says Leo. He’s been quiet since the hotel. Hurting too.
Julia can’t speak. It’s taking all her effort to not simply fall to pieces. All she can offer him is a solitary nod of acknowledgment as she continues to stare out the window. She shuts her eyes and the awful image of a coffin being rolled into the cargo hold of a plane comes to her. She imagines sitting in the airplane cabin, the other passengers oblivious to the fact that in the undercarriage beneath them lay a dead body, her sister’s dead body. She feels sick at the thought.
She takes a breath and tells herself to relax. Not yet. Don’t go there yet, not until we know for sure it’s her. After all, it could all be one giant mistake.
They reach a monolithic building and drive directly into the underground car park, get out, and take the lift to the basement. When the lift door opens, they’re faced with a narrow corridor lit with ugly fluorescent lighting. At the end of the corridor is wall-to-wall glass, behind that the morgue.
Julia’s palms begin to sweat.
“How are you doing?” asks Leo.
“Okay.”
He squeezes her hand, then
