For the next two days, Charlotte stayed at Judd’s apartment. Aside from commuting to work and sharing meals, he spent most of his time in his room, likely to give her space and avoid any awkwardness.
It was the weekend, and she had the day off. She woke up late, around nine-thirty, to find a note on the refrigerator: *Breakfast is in the microwave.*
She opened it to find a still-warm bowl of noodles.
Living in his home, eating his food, she felt she was imposing and decided she would cook dinner that night.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
To be precise, it was the doorbell for her old apartment next door.
Charlotte went to the peephole and saw two plainclothes police officers. She recognized one of them.
She quickly opened her door. “Officers, are you looking for me?”
The older officer turned, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “You’re… Charlotte?”
“Yes.”
“The victim from the assault at the hospital two days ago?” The officer consulted his notes, then looked at her again. “I’ve seen you a few times now. You were involved in the Tricia case as well.”
Charlotte looked a bit sheepish and invited them into Judd’s apartment. As they sat on the sofa, she poured them glasses of water. “This is my friend’s place. I’m not sure what else he has to drink, so please forgive me.”
“Water is fine. We’re just here for a follow-up.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your names.”
“I’m Officer Woods, and this is my trainee, Cole.”
Cole took out a notepad and gave her a small smile. She nodded back.
“Officer Woods, is there any news on the attacker?” she asked.
“We’re working on it, but he’s good at covering his tracks. Looks like a professional. I remember you were also on the yacht during the explosion,” Officer Woods said, his eyes sharp.
Charlotte nodded. “Yes, I was.”
She recounted the events of that night in detail. Officer Woods seemed satisfied, his initial suspicion fading. He had clearly spoken to other survivors as well.
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