Charlotte took a deep, steadying breath, the cool, damp air filling her lungs and contrasting sharply with the tightness in her chest. She focused on slowing her racing heart, the frantic beat at odds with the steady rhythm she craved. She observed Zion, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. The deep creases were a stark contrast to the smooth skin she remembered. Dark circles under his eyes spoke volumes about sleepless nights, and his slumped shoulders conveyed a bone-deep weariness, a far cry from the upright stance she associated with him.
Softening her own stance, Charlotte relaxed slightly, letting her hands fall to her sides. The empty coffee cup dangled from her fingers, its warmth forgotten in the chill of the air. Leaning forward slightly, she studied him intently, noting the tremor in his hands and the shallow rise and fall of his chest. She recognized the signs of exhaustion, familiar from her own long nights working with victims of abuse. This shared experience contrasted sharply with the professional distance she usually maintained.
Clearing her throat, she spoke, her voice rough and shaky—a far cry from her usual smooth, confident tone. "Detective Zion Collins," she said, his name carrying unexpected weight. "I'm Detective Charlotte." The lingering traces of fear in her voice contrasted with the professional demeanor she usually projected. "I've been trying to reach you for days. I didn't mean to startle you like this," she added, her sincerity evident.
She paused, letting her words sink in, the silence a stark contrast to the rapid-fire questions she wanted to ask. Slowly, she pulled out her phone, the deliberate movement an effort to avoid startling him again. The rain pounded against the screen, blurring the display, a stark contrast to the clarity she craved. Zion barely glanced at it, his eyes glazed with exhaustion, unfocused and distant.
"But I can't let you drive off in this state," she said firmly, regaining some strength in her voice. She shoved her phone back into her pocket and scanned the deserted street, quick glances for potential dangers revealing only speeding cars splashing through puddles, their movements contrasting with the stillness of the parked vehicles.
"It's not safe for you or anyone else on the road," she continued, concern lacing her tone. "Where were you trying to go? You're going to have to postpone that." Her voice softened as she suggested, "Why don't you step out of the car, Zion? Let's talk for a moment. I think you could use a break, and I have some information that might help you find the closure you've been looking for."
Charlotte held out a hand, placing it on the door frame, the cold metal pressing against her palm. Her dark eyes searched Zion's face for any sign of understanding or willingness to cooperate. He slumped slightly in his seat, uncertainty flashing across his features. It dawned on her that he hadn't spoken to anyone for days, the isolation stark against the camaraderie he once enjoyed.
"Come on," she coaxed softly, her voice gentle and reassuring. "Take a chance on me. I promise, I'm not here to make your life any harder than it already is. I just want to help you get to the bottom of this." She waited, her gaze locked with his, breath held in anticipation. She wanted to break through the walls he had built, the desire a strong disparity to the professional distance she usually maintained.
Zion felt the darkness wrapping around him, a suffocating presence that clung to him uncomfortably. He struggled to think clearly, his mind still clouded by flashbacks, the fragmented images a stark contrast to the coherent thoughts he usually had.
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