"She woke up in hell."
"What?" Prosecutor Ilgaz Kaya lifted his head from the report he had been trying to study for the last quarter of an hour.
"That's what Hilal hanım, the wife, said, sayın savcım," the junior detective hurried to mumble. "I mean, that's her testimony. She, quote, "woke up in hell seeing blood all over the bed and walls, and no husband to be found anywhere."
Ilgaz took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The headache was killing him, all the letters just appeared a blurry line and his presence at the crime scene became more pointless with each second.
Of course, he understood all too well that it was all the only logical outcome of the sleep deprivation of the last month. Four weeks, three police officers wounded and several liters of bitter coffee - that's what it took them to catch a serial killer, who reappeared after a long period of silence. Or in better words, after a year of another man being wrongly imprisoned after a hasty investigation.
Even the possibility of such a thing happening was disgusting.
Of course Ilgaz had no illusions on the nature of humans, and legalists were no exception. Everyone made mistakes, and as long as those mistakes didn't affect the others they could be forgiven. Unfortunately for the system, their mistakes usually cost broken lives.
In twelve years of service to the country Ilgaz Kaya had the lowest ratio of cold cases possible, but even that wasn't good enough for him. Sometimes all the man could think of was that bunch of unsolved crimes to the point of spending hours over the documents he already knew by heart. He kept revising the evidence, the testimonies, trying to finally see something on those pages that he had foolishly overlooked. But no matter how much time passed, the files were as dead silent as all the years ago.
Probably some mysteries were destined to remain in darkness.
"Demir, can we go on without using metaphors?"
"What's a metaphor?"
"Never mind," Ilgaz sighed and looked around in search of his friend.
Needless to say, Eren was nowhere to be found. But of course, Ilgaz himself had sent the man to the apartment building's surveillance room half an hour ago.
Sleep was not even a need now, it was a must.
Ilgaz searched the surroundings one more time. It was a beautiful apartment, very clean and neat, full of light. All the things were meticulously in place, every kitchen towel had its own hanger, every spatula was color coordinated with the general kitchen palette.
Even for such a perfectionist as Ilgaz was, it was freaky. Çinar would have probably died on the spot considering his absolute inability to maintain even a basic order in his room.
Suddenly the knife stand caught his attention, and Ilgaz moved in the direction of the kitchen set. The stand clearly had five slots with only three occupied. Which, given the obviously obsessed nature of the owner, was extremely odd.
"Umut," he called the young police officer, "there are only three knives in the stand. As the body is missing, it's hard to say about the weapon, but don't forget to ask about the knives."
"Already did, savcım!" Umut was all but shining with pride. "I also thought it was rather strange, so I asked Hilal hanım," he looked at the protocol he was holding in his hands. "The smaller one is broken, and we've actually found the blade in one of the drawers, but the chef's knife is missing."
"Might be the murder weapon than," Ilgaz nodded. "Don't miss a spot, Umut. I'll go home, but call me with any progress. And as soon as you take Hilal hanım to the precinct, don't forget to contact the advocates collegium if she doesn't have a lawyer. Currently she is our primary suspect, so she will definitely need one."
"Don't worry, sayın savcım, we'll do our best!" Umut pretended to salute Ilgaz in the manner of a foreign movie.
"Don't even doubt it," laughed Ilgaz, waving the officer goodbye.
For sure Umut was very capable. And undoubtedly he's been stuck in the position for too long only out of his own humbleness. Passing the building security Ilgaz was definitely set on helping the guy to at least apply for promotion.
He looked at his wristwatch: 6:40 am. It would take him approximately a quarter of an hour to get to Sarıyer without traffic jams. Maybe Defne would still be sleeping, and he would be able to surprise his sister with her favorite kind of breakfast.
But to his great surprise it was Defne who basically jumped on him like a little koala as soon as Ilgaz set foot around the corner of their house, bumbling something almost incoherent.
"What's that Defnecim, I didn't get a word!" The man put the girl on the ground and, taking her small hand, guided them both to their father's apartment on the second floor.
"Be quiet, she is still sleeping!" Shushed Defne, carefully opening the door.
"Zehra teyze?"
"No, she is at hala's," the siblings quietly took off their shoes and entered the living room. "Our yenge ."
"Who?"
Clearly eyesight decrease wasn't the only problem the exhaustion brought. Even his hearing suffered. What was next, legs dysfunction?
"Cüneyt abi's fiancée!" Exclaimed Defne impatiently and immediately covered her mouth with hands. "She stayed yesterday, because Zehra teyze forbade her to go by taxi so late."
Ilgaz couldn't believe his ears. His cousin basically vanished from their lives, choosing to work for Yekta Tilmen. He didn't call, didn't visit, didn't even greet Ilgaz in the corridors of the courthouse if they passed each other, and now his fiancée was sleeping in his father's apartment?
"Okey, princess, let me quickly wash hands, and you'll tell me everything while we cook breakfast."
Something clearly didn't add up here, though Ilgaz didn't have much information to work with.
He quietly moved into the living room. Their guest slept peacefully and obviously rather deeply on the sofa. Long waves of brown hair covered the woman's face completely, softly reflecting the light of the sun with dark golden color. The pillow was abandoned on the floor, the colorful plaid carelessly crumpled at her feet.
Trying to be as quiet as possible, Ilgaz picked up the pillow and hesitated between tucking it under the stranger's head and putting it into the armchair. And in that second of waiting the woman moved, and Ilgaz could finally see her face.
"What the..."
In a million years Ilgaz wouldn't have forgotten that face. Perfectly arched eyebrows, always mockingly upturned. Big green eyes shining with mischief. Full pink lips stretched in a derisive smile.
"Are you free, sayın savcım? My name is Ceylin Erguvan, I'm a lawyer."
That nightmare of a case she deliberately created still made Ilgaz's blood boil in his veins. This woman did everything to piss him off, starting from scoffing during the interrogations and ending with illegally making copies of the case files. She didn't give a damn about the procedures or the order of things, subordinance, respect. She did whatever she felt beneficial, lied to save her clients, used the loopholes the law foolishly had.
Ilgaz didn't need more than one common case to realize she was different from the other lawyers though. With all the indifference to the procedures, her tricks and deceits, this woman's eyes also shone with intellect. She was attentive to details and very perceptive. And Ilgaz would have never admitted it out loud, but her philosophy and attitude towards the client absolutely bought his colleagues over.
Sometimes he regretted that in a whole year they never came face to face in the court anymore. Seeing her name in the power of attorney one day inexplicably made Ilgaz agitated and excited. So much that he even thought of all the smart remarks he was going to use in a conversation with her.
Seeing the face of her partner that day was more than a disappointment. It was a clear indication that Ceylin Erguvan deliberately avoided working with him.
Ilgaz didn't even listen to the curly haired man, throwing him out the door before Engin Tilmen could even open his mouth to speak.
"Either get the power of attorney, avukat bey, or tell avukat hanım to honor us with her presence."
Needless to say, the guy returned the next day with his name appointed as an official attorney in the system.
Sometimes Ilgaz saw her in the corridors. They reserved only to dry nods of acknowledgement, official greetings at best. There were days he didn't care. But when he saw her laughing contagiously in the crowd of secretaries, other lawyers or even prosecutors, Ilgaz wondered what it would have been like to receive a kind smile instead of a scowl from this beautiful woman.
Her inner freedom, unstoppable energy, the way she saw no limits set for her, made Ceylin Erguvan the most fascinating mystery to Ilgaz.
The only thing he wasn't sure of was whether he wanted to solve that mystery or not.
"Abicim," Defne suddenly whispered very close behind him. "You promised we'll do breakfast. We can surprise Ceylin abla when she wakes up."
"Sure, dear, come on," he answered absentmindedly, finally putting the pillow on the armchair. "Is Çinar awake? Doesn't he need to go to the cafe today?"
"He got fired yesterday," the girl shook her head with a troubled expression on her face. "So he asked not to wake him early."
Ilgaz wasn't even surprised. Such things always happened if the person kept being late, and Çinar had a phD in this kind of rules violation.
Frying eggs and sausages was such a basic task but somehow, coupled with twenty four hour exhaustion and a gazillion thoughts about his new yenge, it became quantum physics. The shells crumbled in his fingers, got stuck in the yolk, the oil shot in all the directions, creating absolute chaos in the kitchen area.
If this wasn't proof this woman was a bad omen, Ilgaz didn't know what was.
"Let me sum this up, Defne," Ilgaz said after listening to the short story of his sister. "Our cousin fell on the rails, his fiancée saved his life, but now Cüneyt is in a coma."
"Yes!" Defne was a bit too excited for such an early hour. "It's so sad, he is in the hospital, but I'm sure we can go there with Ceylin abla. She is so cool, abi, she played with me the whole evening and then she even braided my hair! Look, they still are pretty!"
The girl pointed at the two braids her hair was styled into. Ilgaz wasn't an expert on hairstyles, but something definitely was off with the symmetry. But the only fact that a stranger showed his sister so much attention and kindness instantly softened Ilgaz's heart.
"Go on, Defne, wake up our guest. The breakfast is quite ready."
After dividing the food in three exact portions, Ilgaz just elbowed the kitchen bar stand watching the scene before his eyes.
Ceylin was definitely a sleeper. Defne tried everything it seemed: soft voice, arm shaking, hair stroking. Finally the only thing that worked was cheek poking, Defne's favorite method to wake people up.
"Go away, Inci, let me sleep," he heard the lawyer mumble.
"Who is Inci?" Defne asked in a clear voice now that her victim was awake.
Something happened in that moment, in the second between Ceylin's awakening and his sister asking the question, that twisted the woman's beautiful features into a pained expression. And the agonized way she answered reminded Ilgaz all too well of the way he himself addressed all the painful questions about his mother in the first year of her death. Time made it better, easier, but in truth the pain just refused to go away. It was always just there, in the core of his soul, reminding of its existence when he least expected it.
Ceylin turned on her back, rubbed her face and yawned rather loudly. It was really impossible, but this woman apparently could mimic into any surroundings!
"Good morning, avukat hanım," Ilgaz finally declared his presence. "As I see you've finally woken up, you can join us at breakfast and tell the story of becoming my future sister-in-law."
The terrified look in those big green eyes was both unexpectedly satisfying and intriguing. Something was off in this story, and Ilgaz had every intention to end it right there and then.
"Sayın savcım?" Ceylin said in a small voice.
"Avukat hanım," Ilgaz nodded in the direction of the kitchen table. "Hurry up while everything is still hot. Defne, that goes for you too."
He watched Ceylin slowly get up and take her phone from the coffee table. Without any other word she strode towards the bathroom, almost turning over the flower pots stand on her way there.
"Goddamn it!"
"Ceylin hanım!" Ilgaz quickly averted his gaze to his sister who only giggled in response to their guest's lack of common manners.
"Çok pardon!" She raised her arms in the air in a giving up manner and winked at Defne, making the girl laugh out loud.
Ilgaz couldn't help but smile at the scene. It was very hard to win Defne's trust. She was very much like her eldest brother: closed off, introverted, with sharp mind and as incredulous as a child of eight years old could possibly be. Ilgaz clearly remembered how much time it took Neva to create any kind of connection with the girl for it only to be dismissed completely upon their break up. And as much as he didn't blame his former fiancée, it still was painful to see the disappointment written all over Defne's cute face every time she remembered the woman.
"Smells amazingly, Ilgaz bey," several minutes later Ceylin finally joined them, already looking much more confident and composed.
"Hope it hasn't turned into ice, waiting for you, Ceylin hanım."
"Nothing will stop me from enjoying this royal breakfast," she said and immediately occupied the seat.
"I made you tea, Ceylin abla!"
"Thank you, sweetie. Never had a better tea in my life," she smiled softly again after taking a sip, and Ilgaz could swear he hadn't seen his sister that proud of herself in probably all her short life.
Their guest definitely had an appetite, that was undeniable. Eggs, sausages, cheese, olives, - Ceylin ate as if for the last time in her life.
"Don't want to appear a rude host, but this food will not run anywhere. You can slow down."
Ceylin instantly froze, her mouth full, and looked at him guiltily. Was there a plea in that gaze? Ilgaz couldn't wrap his mind around the woman's strange attitude towards basically everything, including such a small matter as breakfast.
"Sorry," she swallowed and took another gulp of tea. "But you never know when you'll be able to eat properly next time," as if catching herself she quickly added, "I mean, with this job sometimes it's difficult to not mix day and night, let alone have proper meals."
Ilgaz could sense that there was a lot more to her words, but preferred to let it slide this time. In any case Ceylin Erguvan's lunch schedule wasn't even in the list of his concerns.
"So tell me," he began matter-of-factly, "how exactly have you become our cousin's fiancée."
Ceylin closed her eyes exhaustively and after a pause put down the fork and the knife. Ilgaz saw too many liars in his years of service to be mistaken: she was buying herself time.
"Do I need to go into the details, sayın savcım?"
"No, a general story will do."
"Cüneyt proposed and I said yes. End of story," she turned away to face his sister, who was listening to the conversation closely and curiously.
Yes, it was a bad decision to start this in the presence of Defne, but Ilgaz couldn't let Ceylin Erguvan get away with her obvious deception. Who knew what story she would be able to come up with given proper time.
He still couldn't think of a motive though.
"Defne said, you saved his life," he continued, absolutely unbothered. Ceylin nodded in response. "How did that happen?"
Suddenly Ceylin burst out laughing. And Ilgaz could swear it was the most beautiful laughter he had ever heard in his life. She laughed so contagiously, so bright and loud, her head thrown back and her palm pressed to her chest. She was absolutely beautiful.
"I'm sorry, Ilgaz bey," she finally managed to say in between hiccups, "but I was so waiting for you to start my interrogation, and of course, you never disappoint."
Ilgaz shook his head. What on earth could he answer to that?
"Defnecim, have you finished? Go pack your bag and get dressed. I'll drop you off at school."
The girl immediately jumped off her chair and disappeared down the corridor.
"I'm still waiting for an answer."
"You already know the story, what more can I add?"
"I prefer to hear the news from the original source. And as, due to my cousin's condition, it's quite problematic to hear anything from him, you are the only one left."
He relaxed in his chair just as if they were in his office, and instead of a set up kitchen table it was his desk that separated Ilgaz and Ceylin. He scanned her face for any indication of fear or unease, but it seemed that the more questions Ilgaz asked, the more determined her expression became.
"We were talking at the metro station..." she began impatiently.
"What was Cüneyt even doing there? As I recall, he owns a pretty good sports car."
"Objection, sayın savcım. Calls for speculation," she narrowed her eyes. "In any case, how would I know the brilliance of a man's mind? Maybe you all enjoy crowded and packed places or dark tunnels."
"But you are his fiancée, you must know," Ilgaz wasn't falling for her tactics.
"We had a fight a couple of days ago, so I can't tell you anything that happened to Cüneyt in the span of this week."
It was extremely convenient. His inner voice was screaming that the woman was lying, but the rational side of Ilgaz's brain just couldn't find a reason for Ceylin to be involved in such an elaborate tale. It just made no sense whatsoever.
"As I was saying, we met at the station, started talking. Cüneyt was standing too close to the edge of the platform, and someone bumped into him," Ceylin continued, looking Ilgaz right in the eyes. "He lost balance, fell, smashed his head on the rails and lost consciousness. I jumped right after him and with a huge risk to my own life dragged him all the way to the safe zone. The end."
Ilgaz remembered this expression all too well. A mixture of annoyance, barely controlled rage, borderline hatred, - that's what Ilgaz got used to in their brief encounters during Çağdaş Muhtar's case. Not Ceylin's marvelous laughter that seemed to be able to cure all the world's problems.
"Too bad you don't have your annoying secretary at hand to write my statement down."
"How long have you been together with Cüneyt?" He preferred to just ignore the snarky remark about Özge.
"About a year."
"And he didn't even bother to tell his family about the coming wedding?"
"We just wanted to put signatures onto the paper, nothing to fuss about."
"Not very loving relationships you two seem to have," Ilgaz scanned Ceylin's face for any sign of cracks in her masterfully created defense.
Of course she had every answer to any question he was going to ask. Ceylin was undeniably clever and of course already knew everything that was on Ilgaz's mind.
Or maybe not.
"Look, Ceylin," he sighed dramatically and leaned forward, "as you of course know, there is a great tension between my cousin and the family. So any news from his side we take very seriously and close to the heart."
The tactics change seemed to work: at least her face relaxed a bit and the glare became a fraction softer.
"So forgive me for all the meticulous questions. It's quite big news, both the incident and the wedding."
"It's okay, Ilgaz bey. I get it."
"Zehra teyze doesn't have a strong heart. Two heart attacks in a span of a year," he continued softly, very pleased with himself for making Ceylin finally drop her guard. "So given all the smokescreen covering your romance, I need to make sure it won't end with disappointment."
"Sure," she repeated in a much more compassionate tone, "I'm not holding it against you."
"Good. So you won't mind telling me any facts about my cousin that only the fiancée or a family member would know, will you?" He ended triumphantly.
For a second her expression stayed the same, warm and responsive, but as the realization hit her, Ceylin's eyes immediately widened, her shoulders fell and mouth hung slightly open. Yes, she was definitely caught off guard.
"I can't believe I fell for that," she breathed out. "That's a low blow, you know."
"I told no lies, Ceylin hanım," Ilgaz held a quick pause before adding, "unlike you."
"So now you're calling me a liar?" Ceylin's cheeks and forehead turned a shade of crimson.
"Well, if you can't tell me anything private about your supposed fiancée, maybe you'll say something on the purpose of all this theatrical show?"
Ceylin jumped to her feet pushing the chair back with the nastiest shriek possible. With no more words she stormed from the kitchen into the corridor, grabbing her bag from the armchair on the way. Ilgaz could swear, her rage could set the whole city on fire.
"What, you suddenly are at a loss for words, Ceylin hanım?" In just a couple of long strides Ilgaz caught up with the woman. "Where are all your smart remarks now? Can't come up with a good enough lie to make the show go on probably?"
She completely ignored him, standing with her back to him and putting on her warm pistachio green coat and a plaid beige scarf, but Ilgaz wasn't going to give up until proved her guilty.
"Why even play this game, avukat hanım? What do you gain from this?" A sudden wild thought came to his mind. "Maybe it was you who pushed Cüneyt off the platform, and now you try to gain our trust to not face charges in future?"
Ilgaz wasn't serious, of course. Yes, he didn't like this woman, yes, she awoke only the worst feelings inside him. He hated her attitude, her methods, her overconfidence. But in no way he really suspected her to ever attempt a murder. Even if that was true, he would have suggested an accident at the most.
She really risked her own life saving the man, and it already spoke miles.
But when Ceylin turned to face Ilgaz, he stumbled a bit back from the pained expression on her face. All color and life drained from it as if someone put out the fire with a bucket of icy cold water. And her eyes, always so fierce and sharp, bore nothing but a silent plea.
"Cüneyt has an ugly scar on his right thigh," she stated straightforwardly in a dry tone. "Long and crooked. He tore the skin and partly a muscle being thrown onto a roofing nail during a fight. I think he was twelve or thirteen."
It was a crystal truth. Both families lived in Adana at that time, so nothing could go unnoticed. Ilgaz was in high school when the accident occurred. Cüneyt was definitely around twelve, and fights were his whole personality. And of course being the eldest teenager in the household it was Ilgaz's daily job to sort out his both younger boys' problems.
And if for a seven years old Çinar it was a multiplication table that represented all the evil in the world, for Cüneyt it was much more interesting to get involved with half-criminal drug selling gangs, weed smoking and other illegal activities.
So Ilgaz remembered perfectly well that day when Cüneyt all but crawled home all covered with blood, both his and his opponent's. It was a fight indeed. Not just a fight, gang fight in an abandoned warehouse.
His cousin never spoke about it. But Ceylin knew that story.
"I'm not an angel, Ilgaz bey," she continued deadly dry, "and I've never pretended to be one. You're right, I lie very often. That's part of my job, unfortunately, just as much as yours - to search for the truth."
Ilgaz opened his mouth to say something, do anything to control the damage, but she stopped him with a quick motion of her hand.
"You may not trust me, I'm not asking you to blindly believe every word I say," Ceylin said quietly, shaking her head just a little. "But to assume that I willingly could push a man under an approaching train, that just because you don't like me I can be a heartless murderer..."
"I didn't..."
"You seem to forget the main rule of justice, sayın savcım. Innocent until proven guilty. Maybe you should revise your knowledge on the matter before going back to your sacred office."
His heart skipped a beat as their eyes locked one last time before Ceylin stormed out of the apartment, her eyebrows narrowed together and lips firmed into a straight line. And in that moment Ilgaz could swear the tortured look in her bottle green eyes would follow him every step till the end of his life.
***
He didn't remember dropping Defne at the school gates or driving through a usual traffic jam. Even parking his car at the courthouse - everything went in a blur, surpassed by the only thought.
Ceylin Erguvan.
Ilgaz didn't feel so guilty even breaking up with Neva over a phone. He just knew he was definitely screwed this time. Never in his life he threw accusations, especially that serious, at people in such a manner.
Everyone around considered him a paragon of justice, the embodiment of what the system was designed to be. His principles helped Ilgaz always stay on track, his natural ability to abstract from any emotions made him a perfect judge of character. He never let personal attitude be reflected in his decisions.
Never, till Ceylin Erguvan burst into his office and life a little more than a year ago.
He needed to know more to make things right. And Ilgaz knew just one person to answer all the pending questions taunting his mind.
A loud and clear "yes" meant that Pars was free and occupied by his favorite activity: drinking coffee.
"Oh, Ilgaz savcı, to what do we own the pleasure? Weren't you on duty yesterday?" The man sipped from the small blue cup. "Sometimes I forget how big of a workaholic you are."
"Can we talk, Pars? I need to ask you something."
Ilgaz moved into the office and occupied the leather guest chair at his colleague's desk. He couldn't help but smile at the way every little thing was organized in the room starting from pencils being perfectly sharpened and ending with a printed flower watering timetable on the side of one of the bookshelves.
If only Pars could let go of his grudges, Ilgaz was sure he would have seen how much alike they were. But these relationships were just constant dancing on shattered glass: just as you think you managed to do a full circle unharmed, you suddenly stumble across a big splinter. And it just went on and on.
"What do you want to discuss, Ilgaz? Your international superstar status?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Oh yes, it's only Greece at the moment. But wait, soon you'll go on a world tour for golden medals and so on. There are many maniacs still to catch," concluded the man, shrugging.
Ilgaz could swear, Pars's envy was really getting on his nerves. As if he had asked the Greek ambassador to give him a medal for participating in the collaborative operation of catching an international band of serial robbers. As if Ilgaz wanted any kind of attention for just doing his job right.
"Are you done practicing wit? Can we start talking seriously?" Ilgaz sighed exhaustedly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Pars made one more loud sip - clearly to get on Ilgaz's nerves - and finally got into his work mode, hands in front of him in a lock, face relaxed and unbothered. The only thing that was missing was the prosecutor's assistant, Rıdvan.
"I'm all ears."
"Ceylin Erguvan."
The man's eyes instantly widened, and his hand immediately shot up to tag at his earlobe before knocking thrice on the wood of his table.
"The woman is like a black mark, Ilgaz. She is a walking catastrophe."
"Don't be ridiculous, Pars," Ilgaz rolled his eyes and huffed. "If I recall correctly, you were very interested in her."
"God protected, thankfully," Pars narrowed his eyes looking at Ilgaz. "Why? Want to make a move now that you are not tied with any obligations?"
Ilgaz could only sigh in response. It's been almost four months since the break up, but still not a day passed without hearing a snarky remark from Pars on the matter.
"I thought we were already past that," Ilgaz rubbed his face wearily.
"Neva is my sister, Ilgaz. We will never be past that."
A minute of silence dragged on like thick honey, overwhelming Ilgaz with all too familiar guilt. Was he past their history with Neva? Of course, he was. He just knew the long distance didn't really work well with them. But that was the price Ilgaz had to pay for his impulsive proposal.
They've been together three years, and everything they managed to build got destroyed in a blink of an eye with their simultaneous transfers from Manisa to Istanbul and Ankara. They tried to make it work, just by inertia. But no house was going to withstand a hurricane without a strong foundation.
And looking back, there was really too little basis to their love. Mutual trust, comfort, understanding, sharing the same values, - Ilgaz thought that was love. But was that true? He definitely was mistaken if all that it took to ruin everything were five hundred kilometers.
"Oh, Ilgaz, c'mon, stop it already!" Pars's loud exclamation yanked him out of the overwhelming train of thoughts. "Each time we touch this topic you simply close off and start reminding a lost puppy."
"I don't know what else to add to what I've already said a thousand times. I'm sor..."
"Sorry it came to this, yes, yes, I don't suffer from retrograde amnesia," the man clicked his tongue impatiently. "Nothing to do and talk about. What do you want to know about Ceylin? Are you on the same case?"
Ilgaz shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. He knew any kind of personal talk with Pars would immediately turn out to be a disaster, but still each and every time his colleague's accusations hit him as for the first time.
Because he was guilty, and there was no escape from this.
"Not exactly. You seem to know her much better, I just don't want to stumble in complete darkness."
"Funny, I thought she was suspended," the man furrowed his eyebrows. "Can't say I'm sorry you are the unlucky one to be her first opponent if she got her license back."
"Why was she suspended?"
"Some illegal ads, Rıdvan told me. I didn't get into the matter much, but obviously it's Yekta's doing."
"What does he have to do with it?" Just from the very beginning the conversation stopped making any sense.
Of course, Ilgaz should have known better than to ask Pars about anything. His colleague was indeed the best source of information about anything thanks to his endless web of contacts, but sometimes that meant drowning in rumors and delusions.
Seemed to be exactly that case.
"Where did you spend the last four months? On Mars?" Pars laughed at his own joke. "Oh, I know, you've been busy giving out autographs and receiving awards. Maybe we should nominate you for Altın Kelebek or something now, why stop just on the duty."
"You know I'm not interested in gossip, I have you to ask in case I need to know something," said Ilgaz confidently in hopes that his words would shut the man up.
"Ha-ha," Pars twisted his face into a funny grimace. "Remember the case in September? A girl was found in a garbage container."
"What about it?"
"The victim was Ceylin's younger sister."
Who is Inci?
The memory of pain twisting the beautiful features of the fierce lawyer's face unexpectedly washed over Ilgaz in waves. He felt it the second he saw that look in her green eyes in answer to his sister's innocent question, but in truth nothing could come close to a fresh wound of losing a person you dearly love, a part of your heart and soul, to just never obtain it back.
His family went through this, but at least the rest of them had a chance to say goodbye to his mother before she gave this world her last breath. Whereas all that was left for Ilgaz was to hold her cold hand in the hospital morgue far too late to be able to fix anything.
He was always just a second too late: to catch the culprit whose case haunted Ilgaz for the last six years, to get to the hospital in time to talk to his mother for the last time, to mend the deep cracks in his relationships with Cuneyt. To save Çinar from the endless train of mistakes.
Inci is my younger sister.
The girl was found in a container in a suitcase, Ilgaz remembered that clearly. It was a big topic of talks in September, but Ilgaz was too far gone for the problems his brother was giving their family with drug dealing and smuggling to pay any attention to the cases he wasn't leading.
But it was a local lawyer's relative that was killed. How could that information never reach his ears? Sometimes Ilgaz thought Özge was too much of a good assistant to be able to keep all the court gossip inside and hold her tongue in her supervisor's presence.
"And if only that," continued Pars savcı. "She was the lawyer of the main suspect in that case."
"Nonsense. The victim's sister was the killer's lawyer?"
"To be fair, we didn't know it was the Erguvan girl. The report was late so Ceylin dragged after me to the morgue and... Oh well, not the best moment of my life."
Pars visibly shivered at the memory. Ilgaz knew his colleague tried to never emotionally invest into the cases, and most times it wasn't that difficult. It was one the greatest abilities a human had - to shut away from the world and the problems that were not theirs. Only that way it was able to keep the head clear and mind open, unbiased. That was especially necessary in their field, where too much depended on the prosecutors' ability to see a bigger picture and not sympathize with either side of the process.
But everything changed as soon as the victim or the suspect became the people you knew. A thousand questions and excuses came into play, and you couldn't tell black from white anymore.
"But Ceylin must have given up the case as soon as she identified the victim, hasn't she? To become her family's lawyer instead?"
"Yekta Tilmen was their family lawyer."
And Pars told Ilgaz everything.
How Ceylin almost dropped the case, but at the last second appeared during the first trial and tried to get the most mild preventive measure for Özgür Tuna.
How a few days later her father almost tore her into pieces in front of the whole courthouse upon discovering her name in the power of attorney. It got so serious that Pars even had to arrest the man for twenty four hours.
How she invaded his office day and night with a train of endless far fetched - in Pars's opinion - theories and ideas.
"What do you mean, far-fetched?" Interrupted Ilgaz suddenly.
Ceylin was many things, but she wasn't delusional. She was very smart and resourceful, and knowing that Pars's favorite strategy was delegating investigation to anyone, for sure he should have been a bit more grateful that Ceylin was doing his job.
"She called me one day close to midnight saying she knew where Inci was killed."
"And?"
"Oh, Ilgaz, c'mon!" The man threw his hands up almost knocking off his beautiful blue cup of most probably ice cold coffee. "She said she felt her sister was killed in the Tilmen's living room."
"Did she say anything else?"
"It was some origami napkin ship she kept shoving into my face the next day. And then she said the furniture got renewed," Pars shrugged. "We're not basing investigations on psychic stuff."
This wasn't true. Ilgaz knew that feeling better than anyone, because the inner voice most times was exactly the only way that helped and guided him through the process. The ability to separate good evidence from useless, and lies from truths defined a good investigator. And definitely if the victim's close relative had a good lead it was most stupid to brush those clues away.
But it wasn't Pars's method of work. For him the sooner the case ended the better, especially if he already had quite a convincing story to write for the indictment.
"I see," mumbled Ilgaz under his nose, but that innocent remark only infuriated the man opposite him.
"Well, I'm not Hansel and Gretel to follow some mystical breadcrumbs. That's your superstar style, Ilgaz."
"So you just ignored the evidence?" Ilgaz pressed further feeling that Pars's patience with him was on the verge of hitting the limit.
Just as Ilgaz thought, Pars brushed aside the living room story. As well as the story that the main suspect, Özgür Tuna, told Ceylin about an unidentified taxi that took Inci from the last place the guy apparently had seen her alive.
Most probably it was an illegal taxi, and the detective leading the investigation, commissar Tarık, wasn't famous for using any loopholes to get what he wanted. So that lead also got them nothing.
In the end the thing that tied Tilmens with the murder was a rented car for which Ceylin had found a fine in her office. Somehow she managed to obtain that exact car and made the police department investigate it to only find Inci's blood in the truck.
"It's obvious Ceylin has a friend in the precinct," concluded Pars, irritated. "In any case, they brought me some footage of Engin Tilmen in that car and on the bridge crashing a phone as well as bills for hurried renovation. We've sent a team to the house and found blood traces on the steps."
"Wait a minute, Engin? The curly one? Ceylin's partner?"
"And best friend."
This was impossible to take, surreal almost. Such cases usually ended with someone close to the victim being the culprit, and Ilgaz had seen too many stories like this in his years of service, but never had he faced a story like this.
He was sure he faced Engin Tilmen in court during the period, which only meant it took Ceylin a long time to obtain justice for her sister. And connecting all the facts Pars had presented him, if only the man was more cooperative, they could have done all the process faster and much more effectively.
"I think that's quite enough information already, Pars," said Ilgaz, hurriedly leaving his seat.
"But that's not the whole story even!" The man looked almost disappointed.
Ilgaz wasn't planning to listen further, though. He was serious, he had already had enough. A bit more to this story, and he would go straight to the jail to beat up the devil Engin Tilmen was for putting the woman he barely knew through hell.
He didn't quite understand the heavy feeling forming right in the center of his chest, it wasn't familiar to anything he had experienced before. And Ilgaz didn't want to test the ways it might lead him.
"Whatever you're doing, Ilgaz, my friendly advice is to stay away from this woman."
"Not that I needed any advice from you, Pars."
"I'm serious," Pars stood up and walked around his table to put a hand on Ilgaz's shoulder. "Deal with her quickly and run away. The girl is a ticking bomb. You think you outsmarted the timer, and it explodes anyway."
As if Ilgaz didn't know that. As if this bomb didn't blow up right into his face just two hours ago.
As he was closing the door behind, Ilgaz already took his phone out of the jacket and chose one of the few speed-dial numbers he had saved. As usual, the phone rang exactly two times.
"Sayın savcım?" Answered a young female voice.
"Özge, can you send me everything related to Inci Erguvan's case?"
"Sure. Today? I thought you had a day off after the night shift."
"As soon as you can," and after receiving a quick confirmation from his assistant he added, "and I also need you to do me a favor."
When almost two hours later the metal chair legs scratched the floor of the kebab shop with an awfully loud screech and Ilgaz was met with the cold fury still forming a thunderstorm in Ceylin Erguvan's forest green eyes, he clearly understood one thing.
From then on, nothing would be easy.