Charlotte trudged through the rain-soaked debris, the muddy ground squelching beneath her heels with each heavy step. The thick, clinging mud sucked at her shoes, a stark contrast to the smooth pavement she was used to. The squelching sound served as a constant reminder of the storm's aftermath. A sudden gust of wind buffeted her, the unexpected force jolting her. She grabbed onto the steel bars of a nearby house, her fingers wrapping tightly around the cold, wet metal, a desperate attempt to maintain her balance. Thunder cracked overhead, a deafening roar that vibrated through her body, making her jump.
She bit her lower lip, the sharp pain distracting her from the throbbing in her ankles. Closing her eyes for a moment, she sought respite from the chaotic scene around her. The sting of rain and pollen-laden leaves hit her face, the wetness contrasting sharply with the dryness she craved. Debris swirled around her in the wind, a chaotic dance of leaves, twigs, and discarded trash. "Jeez, God must be upset with us today," she muttered, a hint of humor in her voice, an attempt to lighten her anxiety.
Carefully testing each step, she walked through puddles, cold water seeping into her shoes. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth and ozone, a sharp reminder of the storm's power. Thunder rumbled overhead, a deep growl that vibrated in her chest. Goosebumps prickled her skin, a physical manifestation of the chill in the air.
Her gaze fixed on apartment 3786, Zion's place, the numbers a beacon in the chaotic landscape. A red vehicle, resembling Zion's, stood parked in front, its color a striking contrast to the muted tones of the buildings. She noticed movement inside—a figure shaking, hands gripping the steering wheel, the stillness of the engine a stark contrast to the frantic movements of the driver.
"What the hell?" she murmured, confusion lacing her voice. She took a few cautious steps closer, her heels clicking softly against the wet pavement, the sound muffled by the rain. Stopping inches from the car, she knocked firmly on the window, the rap of her knuckles cutting through the rain. Peering inside, she tried to identify the occupant, her scrutiny more focused than the casual glances she had given other parked cars.
"Zion Collins, is it?" she asked, projecting professional authority despite her inner uncertainty. Pulling out her badge, she held it up to the window, the silver glinting in the dim light. "My name is Detective Charlotte," she stated, her voice clear and concise. "May you come out of the car, please? I have a couple of questions for you."
She took a few steps back, straightening from her crouched position, a subtle assertion of her authority. Putting away her badge, she adjusted her uniform, a subconscious attempt to maintain professionalism. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a file protected by a plastic cover, the crinkling sound distinct in the quiet rain.
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