The Woman in Apartment 4B

Chapter one – The Wall

By the time Maya Bennett carried the last box into Apartment 4A, she had already decided she was going to be happy there.

Not try to be happy.

Not learn to be happy.

She was going to be happy.

There was a difference.

She stood in the middle of the living room, hands planted on her hips, surveying the chaos around her. Boxes marked KITCHEN, BOOKS, BEDROOM, and one she had simply labeled MISCELLANEOUS BECAUSE I’M TIRED covered most of the hardwood floor.

Maya smiled.

For the first time in months, the mess belonged entirely to her.

No man’s shoes by the door.

No second toothbrush beside hers.

No phone lighting up at midnight with explanations she was expected to believe.

No wondering whether the person sleeping beside her had stopped loving her or had simply never loved her the way she thought he had.

Just Maya.

At thirty-four years old, she had finally discovered that solitude and loneliness were not the same thing.

She walked toward the tall windows overlooking the street.

The building was old—much older than anything she had imagined herself living in—but that was part of what had attracted her to it.

The Bellamy.

Built in 1928, according to the brass plaque near the entrance.

The online photographs had made it look elegant.

In person, it was beautiful in a slightly unsettling way.

Dark wood.

Long hallways.

Original brass fixtures.

An elevator with an accordion-style inner gate that shuddered before moving.

Even the walls seemed to carry history.

Her best friend, Simone, had hated it immediately.

“Girl, this looks like the kind of building where somebody gets murdered in episode one.”

Maya had laughed.

“That’s because you watch too much television.”

“And you don’t watch enough. I’m telling you right now, if twins appear at the end of that hallway, I’m leaving you.”

Maya smiled at the memory.

She needed this place.

After the year she’d had, she needed somewhere that didn’t contain memories.

Her old apartment had been filled with them.

Marcus cooking breakfast on Sundays.

Marcus falling asleep on the sofa.

Marcus dancing badly in the kitchen just to make her laugh.

Marcus telling her there was nobody else.

Marcus finally admitting there was.

Six years reduced to cardboard boxes and a forwarding address.

Maya shook the thought away.

No.

Marcus wasn’t coming with her.

Not even in her head.

She opened one of the boxes.

“New apartment. New life.”

The words sounded corny spoken aloud.

She didn’t care.

She began unpacking.

---

By nine that evening, Maya had assembled half a bookshelf, broken one wineglass, misplaced the screws for her bed frame and decided that whoever invented flat-pack furniture deserved prison.

She ordered Thai food and ate cross-legged on the living-room floor.

Outside, rain had begun tapping against the windows.

The city looked different from four floors up.

Quieter.

Farther away.

Safe.

Maya poured herself a glass of wine and leaned against the sofa.

Her phone buzzed.

SIMONE: Still alive?

Maya laughed.

MAYA: Unfortunately.

Three dots immediately appeared.

SIMONE: Any ghosts yet?

MAYA: Just one.

SIMONE: WHAT????

Maya waited several seconds before replying.

MAYA: My bank account after paying the deposit.

Her phone rang almost instantly.

Maya burst out laughing.

“You are not funny,” Simone said the moment Maya answered.

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“You can’t see my face.”

“I could feel it.”

“I’m serious, Maya. That building gives me—”

Knock.

Maya stopped smiling.

“What?” Simone asked.

Maya looked toward the front door.

“Someone knocked.”

“At nine-thirty?”

“It’s an apartment building, Simone.”

“Did you order anything else?”

“No.”

Another knock.

Three slow taps.

Maya stood.

“Hold on.”

“Do not hang up.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

She walked quietly toward the door and looked through the peephole.

Empty hallway.

“No one’s there.”

“See?”

“See what?”

“The murder documentary has begun.”

Maya rolled her eyes and opened the door.

“Maya!”

“I’m just looking.”

The hallway stretched in both directions beneath warm yellow lights.

Empty.

Apartment 4C stood across the hall.

4D farther down.

And immediately beside Maya’s apartment was 4B.

Its door was closed.

Nothing unusual.

“Nobody’s here.”

“Close the door.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Maya stepped back inside and locked it.

“Happy?”

“No. But slightly less concerned.”

They talked another twenty minutes before Simone announced she was going to bed.

Maya finished her wine and continued unpacking.

By eleven-thirty, exhaustion won.

The bed frame remained unfinished, so she dragged the mattress onto the bedroom floor.

Temporary, she told herself.

She changed into an oversized T-shirt, washed her face and climbed beneath the blankets.

Rain whispered against the glass.

The building creaked occasionally.

Pipes.

Floorboards.

Old buildings made noises.

She closed her eyes.

Tomorrow she would finish unpacking.

Monday she would return to work.

And eventually this place would feel like home.

For the first time in a long time, Maya fell asleep without checking her phone.

---

Scrape.

Her eyes opened.

Darkness.

Maya remained completely still.

For several seconds, she couldn’t remember where she was.

Then the outline of the unfamiliar window came into focus.

The Bellamy.

Her new apartment.

She reached for her phone.

2:17 a.m.

She sighed and rolled over.

Probably the pipes.

Scrape.

Maya sat up.

That wasn’t a pipe.

The sound had come from the wall.

The wall beside her bed.

She listened.

Nothing.

“Mouse,” she whispered.

Wonderful.

She had paid an obscene security deposit to live with rodents.

She lay back down.

Scrape. Scrape.

Maya frowned.

It didn’t sound like scratching.

It sounded heavier.

Like furniture being dragged slowly across a floor.

From the apartment next door.

4B.

She pulled the blanket higher.

Someone was probably moving something.

At two-seventeen in the morning?

Maya closed her eyes.

Not your business.

New life.

New boundaries.

Let the neighbor rearrange the entire apartment if she wanted.

Then came a thud.

Maya’s eyes opened again.

Silence.

Another thud.

Then another.

Three in total.

Maya stared at the wall.

“Seriously?”

She considered knocking.

Absolutely not.

She would speak to management tomorrow.

She put a pillow over her head.

Eventually, the noises stopped.

---

The next morning, Maya nearly forgot about them.

Sunlight transformed the apartment.

Whatever eeriness the building possessed at night disappeared beneath the warmth pouring through the windows.

She made coffee, opened the curtains and spent the morning unpacking.

Around noon, she stepped into the hallway carrying flattened boxes toward the recycling area.

The door to 4B caught her attention.

She slowed.

Nothing remarkable about it.

Dark wood.

Brass numbers.

4B.

Maya hesitated.

Then laughed at herself.

She had officially become Simone.

She continued walking.

Near the elevator, she passed an elderly man carrying groceries.

“New tenant?”

Maya smiled.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nobody else looks happy to be here.”

She laughed.

“I’m Maya. 4A.”

The man’s smile faded for the briefest second.

So quickly Maya wondered whether she’d imagined it.

“Arthur,” he said. “3C.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

The elevator arrived.

Arthur stepped inside.

Just before the doors closed, he looked past Maya.

Toward 4B.

Then at her again.

“Get yourself a good lock.”

The doors closed.

Maya stared after him.

“Okay…”

Definitely too many crime shows in this building.

---

That night, Maya called Simone while making dinner.

She told her about Arthur.

Simone nearly choked laughing.

“I told you!”

“He probably tells everybody that.”

“He specifically looked at the creepy apartment beside yours and told you to buy a lock.”

“It’s Atlanta. Everybody should have a good lock.”

“Move.”

“I’m not moving.”

“Then when Netflix interviews me, I’m telling them I warned you.”

Maya laughed.

They changed the subject.

By eleven, Maya was in bed reading.

At midnight, she turned off the lamp.

At 12:43, the scraping started again.

Maya opened her eyes.

This time she didn’t move.

Scrape.

Pause.

Scrape.

Then footsteps.

Slow.

Measured.

On the other side of the wall.

Maya’s irritation overcame her uneasiness.

She sat up and knocked twice against the wall.

“Some of us are trying to sleep.”

The footsteps stopped.

“Thank you.”

She lay back down.

Five minutes passed.

Nothing.

Maya smiled into the darkness.

Problem solved.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

Her smile disappeared.

The sound had come from the wall.

Two knocks.

Exactly like hers.

Maya stared at it.

“Very funny.”

No response.

She waited.

Nothing.

She turned onto her side.

Then heard something that made every muscle in her body tighten.

A voice.

Faint.

So faint she couldn’t tell whether she’d actually heard it.

Maya held her breath.

Nothing.

She sat up slowly.

“Hello?”

Silence.

She almost laughed.

Then it came again.

A woman’s voice.

From the other side of the wall.

Whispering.

Maya leaned closer.

“What?”

The voice stopped.

She waited.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Maya reached for her phone.

Maybe she should record it.

Then the whisper returned.

Clearer this time.

One word.

Maya froze.

The phone slipped slightly in her hand.

Because the woman in Apartment 4B hadn’t said hello.

She hadn’t asked Maya to keep the noise down.

She hadn’t said anything a stranger should have known.

She had whispered:

“Maya.”

And then, from the other side of the wall—

three slow knocks.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

The Woman in Apartment 4B

Chapter Two — The Neighbor

Maya did not sleep again.

She remained sitting against the headboard—or what would eventually become a headboard once she found the missing screws—staring at the wall until the first gray light of morning crept through the windows.

Nothing else happened.

No scraping.

No footsteps.

No whisper.

No more knocks.

By six-thirty, she had managed to convince herself that there was a reasonable explanation.

Sound traveled strangely in old buildings.

Maybe the voice had come from the hallway.

Maybe someone had called another Maya.

Maybe she had been half asleep.

Maybe—

Her phone rang.

Maya nearly threw it across the room.

She looked at the screen.

SIMONE.

Maya answered.

“You are calling me at six-thirty in the morning.”

“Good morning to you too. First day back at work. I figured I’d make sure you hadn’t overslept.”

“I haven’t slept.”

Silence.

Then—

“What happened?”

Maya hesitated.

She already knew how this conversation would go.

“Nothing.”

“Maya.”

“The neighbor was making noise again.”

“The murder neighbor?”

“Stop calling her that.”

“Her?”

Maya paused.

“I heard a woman.”

Simone was suddenly very awake.

“What kind of woman?”

“I don’t know what kind of woman. A woman.”

“What did she say?”

Maya looked toward the wall.

“My name.”

Another silence.

Longer this time.

“Move.”

Maya laughed despite herself.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. I’m not moving because somebody said my name through a wall.”

“How does your neighbor know your name?”

“Maybe management told her.”

“Why would management tell another tenant your name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you meet her?”

“No.”

“Did you introduce yourself?”

“No.”

“Does your name appear on your door?”

Maya frowned.

“No.”

“Exactly.”

Maya got out of bed.

“I’m going to talk to management before work.”

“Good.”

“And I’m going to introduce myself to 4B.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Simone.”

“Maya, don’t knock on that woman’s door.”

“Why?”

“Because this is exactly how white women die in horror movies.”

Maya stopped.

“Simone.”

“What?”

“I’m Black.”

“Exactly. Which means you should know better.”

Maya burst out laughing.

“Goodbye.”

“Call me after you talk to management.”

“I will.”

“And don’t go inside 4B.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Maya—”

She ended the call.

For the first time that morning, she smiled.

Then she looked at the wall.

The smile disappeared.

---

Maya left for work forty minutes early.

The leasing office was on the first floor, tucked behind the lobby near a sitting area nobody seemed to use.

A young man sat behind the desk.

His name tag read ELIAS.

He looked up.

“Good morning.”

“Hi. I’m Maya Bennett. I just moved into 4A.”

“Welcome to The Bellamy.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled.

“What can I help you with?”

Maya suddenly felt ridiculous.

“My neighbor.”

His fingers stopped moving over the keyboard.

“Your neighbor?”

“Apartment 4B.”

Something shifted in his expression.

Not surprise exactly.

Something smaller.

Recognition.

Maya noticed.

“There’s been a lot of noise coming from the apartment at night. Scraping, footsteps. Last night she was knocking on the wall.”

Elias stared at her.

“She?”

“The woman who lives there.”

He looked toward an office behind him.

The door was closed.

Maya followed his glance.

“Is there a problem?”

“No.”

His answer came too quickly.

“I can make a note.”

“That’s it?”

“I’ll let the property manager know.”

“I’d rather someone speak to her. I don’t want to start off badly with a neighbor, but she’s moving furniture around at two in the morning.”

Elias typed something.

“Okay.”

“And…”

Maya stopped.

“And?”

She almost didn’t say it.

“She knew my name.”

His fingers stopped again.

Maya watched him.

“Is that normal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Would management have told her who moved into 4A?”

“No.”

“So how would she know?”

“I don’t know.”

His face had changed.

Maya was certain now.

Something about this conversation was making him uncomfortable.

“Elias?”

A door opened behind him.

A woman stepped out.

Mid-fifties.

Gray tailored suit.

Silver hair pulled into a neat bun.

“Everything okay?”

Elias straightened.

“Yes, Ms. Grant.”

Maya turned.

“I’m Maya Bennett. I moved into 4A.”

The woman’s expression warmed.

“Of course. I’m Lorraine Grant, property manager. How are you settling in?”

“Fine, except for my neighbor.”

Lorraine’s smile remained.

But her eyes changed.

“Which neighbor?”

“4B.”

The smile disappeared.

Maya noticed that too.

“What about 4B?”

“Whoever lives there has been making noise late at night.”

Lorraine glanced at Elias.

Then back at Maya.

“I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you.”

Maya waited.

Neither of them said anything else.

She smiled politely.

“Have a good day.”

“You too.”

As Maya walked toward the lobby, she glanced back.

Lorraine and Elias were whispering.

And both of them were watching her.

---

Work was useless.

Maya read the same email four times without understanding it.

At lunch, she searched:

The Bellamy Atlanta reviews

Mostly normal.

Beautiful historic building.

Great location.

Slow maintenance.

Thin walls.

Someone complained about the elevator.

Someone else complained about parking.

Nothing about mysterious women whispering people’s names.

Maya laughed at herself.

Then she searched:

The Bellamy Apartment 4B

Nothing.

She closed the browser.

This was ridiculous.

At five-thirty, she drove home determined to behave like a normal person.

She would cook dinner.

Unpack.

Watch television.

Go to sleep.

And if the woman in 4B started moving furniture again, Maya would knock on her door like an adult.

No ghosts.

No mysteries.

No Simone-induced paranoia.

When Maya reached the fourth floor, she stepped out of the elevator.

And stopped.

A package sat outside Apartment 4B.

She stared at it.

Proof.

A perfectly ordinary cardboard box.

She smiled.

“See?”

She walked toward it.

The shipping label faced upward.

Maya wasn’t trying to be nosy.

At least that’s what she told herself.

She glanced down.

The recipient’s name had been blacked out with thick marker.

But the address was visible.

Apartment 4B.

Someone lived there.

End of mystery.

Maya continued to 4A.

Before entering, she looked back.

Maybe she should introduce herself.

No.

Tomorrow.

She went inside.

---

At 8:16 that evening, someone knocked on Maya’s door.

Three slow knocks.

Her stomach tightened.

She walked toward the peephole.

A woman stood outside.

Maya exhaled.

Normal.

Completely normal.

She opened the door.

The woman appeared to be in her late sixties. Short, elegantly dressed, with silver braids pulled away from her face.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“I’m Evelyn. 4C.”

Across the hall.

Maya smiled.

“Maya. 4A.”

“I know.”

There it was again.

Maya tried not to react.

Evelyn held out a small foil-covered plate.

“Banana bread. I bake when I’m bored.”

Maya accepted it.

“Thank you. That’s really sweet.”

“Welcome to the floor.”

They exchanged a few pleasantries.

Then Evelyn’s gaze drifted toward the door beside Maya’s.

4B.

“You met everyone yet?”

“No. Actually, I was going to introduce myself to the woman next door.”

Evelyn looked at her.

“What woman?”

Maya felt something cold move through her.

“In 4B.”

Evelyn stared at the door.

Then back at Maya.

“Did you see someone?”

“I heard her.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

Evelyn’s face became unreadable.

“What did you hear?”

“Why does everyone act strange when I mention that apartment?”

Evelyn looked toward the elevator.

“I should go.”

“Evelyn.”

The older woman stepped away.

“Thank you for the bread.”

“Maya.”

Evelyn stopped.

“Don’t knock on that door.”

Maya’s stomach tightened.

“Why?”

Evelyn didn’t answer.

She crossed the hall, entered 4C and locked the door behind her.

Maya stood alone.

Then slowly turned toward Apartment 4B.

The package was gone.

---

That night, Maya placed her phone on the nightstand with the voice recorder open.

She wasn’t going to be told she imagined anything.

At 1:52 a.m., the footsteps began.

Maya pressed Record.

Step.

Pause.

Step.

Pause.

Closer.

Closer.

Until they seemed to stop directly beside her bed, separated from her by nothing but plaster and paint.

Maya stared at the wall.

Then came the whisper.

“Maya.”

Her skin prickled.

She held the phone toward the wall.

“Who are you?”

Silence.

“How do you know my name?”

Nothing.

Maya swallowed.

“Why are you doing this?”

For several seconds, there was only the faint hum of the air conditioner.

Then the woman whispered again.

This time, Maya heard every word.

“You came back.”

Maya stopped breathing.

“I’ve never been here before.”

Silence.

Then—

“Yes, you have.”

The recording timer continued counting.

Maya stared at the wall.

And somewhere inside Apartment 4B, a woman began to cry.

---

The Woman in Apartment 4B

Chapter Three — Nobody Lives There

Maya played the recording eleven times.

By the seventh, she had stopped questioning whether she’d imagined the voice.

It was there.

Faint.

But unmistakable.

You came back.

Then Maya’s voice:

I’ve never been here before.

And finally:

Yes, you have.

Simone listened without speaking.

That frightened Maya more than anything.

“Say something.”

“I’m thinking.”

“You always have something to say.”

“I know.”

Maya sat at her kitchen counter, staring at the wall separating her apartment from 4B.

“So?”

“So I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I.”

“Go downstairs.”

“I have work.”

“Call out.”

“I’m not calling out because my neighbor is weird.”

“Your neighbor thinks you’re somebody who came back from somewhere.”

“Maybe she has dementia.”

“Then management needs to know.”

Maya rubbed her forehead.

“I already told them.”

“Tell them again. And play the recording.”

Maya looked at the clock.

7:12 a.m.

“Fine.”

---

Lorraine Grant was already in the leasing office when Maya arrived.

The property manager looked up and immediately seemed to know why she was there.

“Ms. Bennett.”

“I recorded it.”

Lorraine’s expression tightened.

“Recorded what?”

“The woman in 4B.”

Maya placed her phone on the desk.

“I need you to hear this.”

Lorraine didn’t reach for it.

Maya pressed play.

Static.

Footsteps.

Then Maya’s recorded voice.

Who are you?

A pause.

How do you know my name?

Another pause.

Maya watched Lorraine’s face.

Then the whisper came through the speaker.

You came back.

Lorraine went pale.

Maya noticed.

“Did you hear that?”

Lorraine didn’t answer.

The recording continued.

I’ve never been here before.

Yes, you have.

Maya stopped the recording.

For several seconds, neither woman spoke.

Then Lorraine stood.

“Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Upstairs.”

---

The elevator ride to the fourth floor felt longer than usual.

Lorraine didn’t speak.

Maya watched the numbers illuminate.

The doors opened.

Evelyn was stepping out of 4C with a small garbage bag.

She saw Lorraine.

Then Maya.

Then stopped.

Lorraine gave her a look Maya couldn’t interpret.

Evelyn lowered her eyes and walked toward the stairwell.

Maya noticed.

“What is going on?”

Lorraine kept walking.

“Ms. Grant.”

They stopped outside 4B.

Lorraine pulled a large ring of keys from her pocket.

Maya’s heart began beating faster.

“You’re going inside?”

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t you knock?”

Lorraine looked at her.

Then knocked.

Three times.

Maya’s stomach dropped.

The exact rhythm.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

No answer.

Lorraine waited.

Then knocked again.

Nothing.

She inserted a key into the lock.

It resisted.

She tried another.

Then another.

Finally—

Click.

Lorraine opened the door.

A stale smell drifted into the hallway.

Dust.

Old wood.

Something else Maya couldn’t identify.

Lorraine reached inside and flipped a switch.

A ceiling light flickered.

Maya stepped closer.

And stared.

The apartment was empty.

Not empty as in someone had moved recently.

Empty as in abandoned.

Dust covered the floor.

A pale rectangle on one wall showed where a picture had once hung.

The living room contained no sofa.

No television.

No boxes.

No signs of life.

Maya stepped inside.

“This isn’t possible.”

Lorraine remained near the doorway.

Maya walked farther.

“Maybe she’s staying in one of the bedrooms.”

“Ms. Bennett—”

“Hello?”

Her voice echoed.

No answer.

Maya checked the kitchen.

Empty cabinets.

Disconnected refrigerator.

Dust.

She walked toward the bedroom.

Her chest tightened.

This room shared the wall with hers.

Nothing.

No bed.

No dresser.

Nothing that could have scraped across the floor.

Maya walked toward the wall.

The same wall.

She touched it.

Cold.

“This is where I heard her.”

Lorraine said nothing.

Maya looked down.

Dust covered the hardwood floor.

Except—

She frowned.

Near the wall were three faint lines.

Parallel.

As though something heavy had recently been dragged across the floor.

Maya crouched.

“What’s this?”

Lorraine moved quickly.

“Probably old marks.”

“They’re in the dust.”

Lorraine didn’t respond.

Maya stood.

“What happened here?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I’m imagining things.”

“I’m not.”

“Then tell me who lives here.”

Lorraine stared at her.

“No one.”

Maya laughed nervously.

“Clearly they’re not here right now.”

“No, Maya.”

It was the first time Lorraine had used her first name.

“No one lives in this apartment.”

Maya’s smile disappeared.

“What do you mean?”

Lorraine looked toward the open doorway.

Then back at her.

“4B isn’t rented.”

Maya stared at her.

“What about the package?”

“What package?”

“There was a package outside this door yesterday.”

Lorraine shook her head.

“I don’t know anything about a package.”

“I saw it.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t.”

“It had 4B on it.”

Lorraine looked uneasy again.

Maya stepped closer.

“How long has the apartment been empty?”

Lorraine didn’t answer.

“Ms. Grant.”

A sound came from the hallway.

Evelyn.

She stood near the stairwell door.

Watching them.

Lorraine’s jaw tightened.

“Evelyn, please go downstairs.”

Evelyn didn’t move.

Maya looked between them.

“Why won’t anybody answer me?”

Lorraine sighed.

“Because I don’t want to frighten you.”

“That ship sailed somewhere around two o’clock this morning.”

Lorraine looked into the empty bedroom.

Then at Maya.

“The last tenant left under unusual circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

“That’s not something I’m permitted to discuss.”

“Was she the woman I heard?”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s not here.”

“Then who was talking to me?”

“I don’t know.”

Maya held up her phone.

“You heard the recording.”

“Old buildings carry sound.”

“That voice was on the other side of my bedroom wall.”

“It could have traveled through a vent.”

“From where?”

Lorraine didn’t answer.

Maya felt anger replacing fear.

“How long?”

Lorraine looked at her.

“Excuse me?”

“How long has 4B been vacant?”

Another silence.

Maya waited.

Finally Lorraine said:

“Almost six years.”

Maya stared at her.

Six years.

“No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Someone was in here last night.”

Lorraine shook her head.

“That’s impossible.”

“I heard footsteps.”

“No one has access except management.”

“I heard a woman crying.”

Lorraine looked toward Evelyn.

Evelyn’s eyes filled with something Maya couldn’t name.

Fear?

Sadness?

Recognition?

Maya continued.

“She said my name.”

Lorraine’s face tightened.

“And she told me I’d been here before.”

Evelyn whispered something.

Maya turned.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“You said something.”

Evelyn looked at Lorraine.

Lorraine shook her head once.

A warning.

Maya saw it.

“Okay. Enough.”

She walked toward Evelyn.

“You know something.”

Evelyn backed away.

“What happened to the woman who lived here?”

“Maya—”

“What was her name?”

Lorraine stepped between them.

“That’s enough.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Maya pointed toward the empty apartment.

“I moved into 4A three days ago. For two nights I’ve heard someone walking around in there. Last night a woman called me by name and told me I’d been here before. Now you’re telling me this place has been empty for six years, and everybody on this floor starts acting terrified whenever I mention it.”

Neither woman spoke.

Maya looked at Evelyn.

“Who lived in 4B?”

Evelyn’s eyes moved slowly over Maya’s face.

For the first time, Maya noticed that the older woman wasn’t merely frightened.

She was studying her.

Her eyes.

Her nose.

Her mouth.

As though comparing Maya to a memory.

Evelyn whispered:

“Oh, God.”

Maya’s skin prickled.

“What?”

Evelyn stepped closer.

“Turn your head.”

“What?”

“Please.”

Maya didn’t move.

Evelyn stared at the left side of her face.

Then her eyes dropped to the small crescent-shaped birthmark just beneath Maya’s ear.

All the color drained from Evelyn’s face.

The garbage bag slipped from her hand.

Lorraine grabbed her arm.

“Evelyn.”

But Evelyn wasn’t looking at Lorraine.

She was staring at Maya.

“No.”

Maya’s heart hammered.

“No what?”

Evelyn shook her head.

“This can’t be happening.”

Maya grabbed her phone.

“Someone needs to tell me what is going on.”

Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears.

Then she looked past Maya—

into the empty apartment.

And whispered:

“She’s back.”

Maya turned toward 4B.

Empty.

Silent.

Dust floating in the morning light.

Then—

from somewhere inside the apartment—

came three slow knocks.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Lorraine slammed the door shut.

Maya jumped.

“What the hell was that?”

Lorraine locked the door.

Her hands were trembling now.

Maya stared at her.

“Tell me.”

Lorraine closed her eyes.

When she opened them, the professional calm was gone.

“Go to work, Maya.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please.”

“Who lived in that apartment?”

Lorraine hesitated.

Then finally said:

“A woman named Elena Vale.”

Maya waited.

“And?”

Lorraine looked directly into her eyes.

“Six years ago, Elena disappeared.”

Maya’s stomach dropped.

“Disappeared?”

“No body. No goodbye. Nothing.”

“And nobody has lived there since?”

Lorraine shook her head.

“Not one person.”

Maya looked at the locked door.

Then at the wall separating 4B from her apartment.

Her mouth went dry.

Because for two nights, she had been listening to someone walk around inside an apartment that had been empty for six years.

Someone who knew her name.

Someone who believed she had come back.

And last night—

someone had been waiting for her on the other side of the wall.

END OF COMPLIMENTARY PREVIEW

🔒 Unlock The Woman in Apartment 4B

Maya has just learned that nobody has lived next door for six years.

But that’s only the beginning.

Who was Elena Vale?

Why did she disappear?

Why does someone inside the empty apartment know Maya’s name?

And why did Evelyn look at Maya as though she’d seen her face before?

Subscribe to The Next Page Stories to continue with Chapter Four.