Damien's lips pressed into a thin line. He knew he couldn't push further, at least for now. With a final glare, he turned and strode toward the elevator, leaving a trail of tension and murmurs behind him.
***
Two weeks later, Noah still hadn't stepped foot near his parents' house. The thought alone twisted his stomach, but he couldn't risk Damien lurking around, watching for a chance to corner him or, worse, hurt Jossy again. So, he stayed away, at least until the investigations were over. He trusted Martha and Marie to look after Jossy, and to keep him informed.
Martha had always been more than a housekeeper. Loving, motherly, and loyal. She gave Noah daily updates, ssometimes short texts, sometimes quick calls. "She's resting better." "The nurse says her wounds are healing." "Hazel has been reading to her this afternoon." Bit by bit, Jossy was getting better.
From what Martha reported, Hazel rarely left her side. Marie handled the medical care, but it was Hazel who coaxed Jossy to eat, who sat beside her during the long silences, and who made her laugh softly once or twice when Jossy needed cheering up.
On Noah's end though, the waiting was torture. Every message from Martha was both relief and ache. Relief that she was safe, ache that he couldn't be there himself. At night, he found himself pacing his apartment, phone in hand, reading the same updates over and over.
***
Meanwhile, the Special Victims Unit was closing in on Damien. Two detectives had already been to the house, keeping their visits quiet. They had spoken to Hazel, to Martha, even to Marie the nurse.