The woman’s reply was muffled, and I couldn’t hear what she was saying. I peeked around the island, hoping I could see or hear something else. But they moved out of my sight just a little bit, obstructed now by the side of the counter and the furniture out on the terrace.
“…not to come here…” Noah said again.
“...wanted to see you in person, Noah… the phone….”
I watched as she put her hand on Noah’s arm, and he shook his head and grabbed onto the railing of the terrace, leaning over and looking down at the street below. He was still wearing his pajama pants and no shirt, and I hated that she was touching him, hated that she had her hand on his bare arm. It was also too cold to be outside dressed in just a thin pair of pants and no top, and I realized whoever this woman was, she must have shown up completely out of the blue.
I couldn’t hear any voices now, even muffled ones, and it seemed as if the two of them were just standing there in silence. After a moment, the woman let go of Noah’s am and grabbed a black duffle bag that was sitting on the chair.
She unzipped it and pulled out two items – a bulky file folder, and a dark green scarf. It was the kind of scarf that was made more for warmth than aesthetics -- it was bulky, with tassels on the ends, and I couldn’t tell from here, but it looked like maybe it had been hand knit.
She handed Noah the file folder, and he took it. When she handed him the green scarf, she did it slowly, almost reverently, like it was of great importance. He stared down at it for a while, and she put her hand back on his arm.
I felt like I was spying on some kind of intimate moment, like I was seeing something between two people that was supposed to be private. At the same time, there was obviously something untoward going on, since this woman was showing up in the middle of the night with documents, and Noah had obviously done his best to keep her from me.
“You should go,” I heard Noah say very clearly. His voice was a little more raised now, and it broke the spell. They began to head toward the terrace door, and I made my way quickly out of the kitchen and back down the hall to the bedroom.
I shut the door behind me, wincing at the noise it made.
I climbed back into bed, my heart pounding so fast I could feel the blood rushing in my ears.
I lay there for what seemed like forever, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe. I watched as the clock on my phone moved from two to three to four in the morning. Noah still hadn’t returned to the bedroom. I wondered what he was doing – had he left the apartment? I hadn’t heard anyone leave, but it was impossible to know – with the door shut, the lights off, the blinds closed, the room felt more like a cave than a bedroom. Was that woman still here? Was she going to turn up dead? Was I going to turn up dead?
Finally, at around five in the morning, I heard the sound of the bedroom door opening. I kept my eyes shut and my breathing shallow, hoping Noah would think I was still sleeping. My pulse raced.
After a moment, I heard Noah moving across the room toward his dresser, then the sound of water running in the bathroom.
I stayed still.
The bathroom door opened a few moments later, and I heard the sound of Noah leaving the bedroom and moving down the hallway. This time, he kept the bedroom door open. There were rustling noises in the kitchen before the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through the apartment.
Noah was gone.
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
I sat up in bed, not sure what to do. I was tempted to start snooping around his apartment, going through his things, seeing if I could find anything that implemented him. The lawyer part of me wanted to. The part of me that was in a relationship, if you could even call it that, wanted to trust him enough not to do that.
My phone buzzed, and I almost jumped out of my skin. I picked up my phone.
One new text.
Noah.
I’d like to have a meeting with you this morning. Meet me at my office at 7.
I arrived at the offices of Cutler and Associates promptly at 6:55. I wasn’t sure what this meeting was going to entail, and so I’d made sure to be prompt. I had class that morning, and I couldn’t afford to be late. Whatever this was, I wanted to make sure I got it taken care of quickly. Even so, adrenaline coursed through my body at the thought of a private meeting with Noah.
I fiddled with the strap of my bag as I waited for the elevator, wondering if I should bring up what I’d seen the night before out on his terrace. Noah was so temperamental, I couldn’t tell if me confronting him would force him to explain, or just cause him to push me away. My instinct was that he would push me away. Obviously if he’d wanted to tell me what was going on, he wouldn’t have gone so far out of his way to hide it.
My phone rang as I was about to step onto the elevator.
Professor Worthington.
“Charlotte,” he barked into the phone. “Where are you?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Since I had no idea why Noah wanted to meet with me, I didn’t know if it had to do with the case or if it was something of a more personal nature.
“I’m about to meet with Mr. Cutler,” I said finally, taking a chance.
“Good, so he’s been in touch.”
“Yes.”
“I emailed him this morning to let him know we’re going to begin preparing his defense, and he indicated he would only be speaking with you.”
“Oh.” I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.
“I’m going to need you to get as much information out of him as you can.”
“Okay,” I said, almost laughing out loud at the absurdity of being tasked with trying to get information out of Noah Cutler.
“Thank you.” Professor Worthington paused. “Is this arrangement okay with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean are you okay meeting with Mr. Cutler alone?” His voice was tinged with concern. It was the first time I’d heard Professor Worthington show any kind of nervousness about me being involved with Noah. Up until this point, he’d been very clear that I was to do whatever it took to make sure we had what we needed for the case. It made me wonder if perhaps Professor Worthington knew something that made him worried for my safety.
I wondered if I should tell him about what happened last night, about the mysterious woman who’d shown up at Noah’s house, how they’d been talking out on the terrace. But to do that would make it clear I’d spent the night with Noah. And I was suddenly getting the vibe that something had changed with Professor Worthington – now that Noah had been arrested, Professor Worthington seemed a little more cautious. If he knew how close I really was with Noah, he might take me off the case.
“I’m fine,” I said, stepping into the elevator and hoping I sounded confident.
“Do you want me to send Josh?”
I laughed. “Are you serious?”
He laughed as well. “No, you’re right. What was I thinking? Do you want me to come down there?”
“No. I’m okay. I can deal with Mr. Cutler.” The words sounded so strong and forceful coming out of my mouth, that I almost believed them myself.
“Well, then,” Professor Worthington said, back to being all business. “I’ll expect an emailed report from you as soon as you’re finished. Then we can talk about next steps.”