Page 13

Olivia

Nightmare by Halsey

“ W hat exactly did the detective say?” Luke’s annoyance is palpable through the receiver.

I know it wasn’t exactly cool to call him after I ghosted him for days and had another man’s, a very dangerous man’s, dick in my mouth. But I panicked when I had a voicemail from Whatcom County Sheriff’s office asking me to report to their building on Friday at nine to speak to a detective. It’s currently Friday at eight, and I’m in full blown panic mode. Luke is the only lawyer I know, and I have no fucking clue if he’s even the type of lawyer that deals with this stuff, but I hope he might be able to help me.

“Not a lot.” I try to recall exactly what the detective said in the message. “Something about they’re opening a report and need statements—”

“A report or investigation?” he interrupts with a sharpness in his voice I haven’t heard from him before.

“I don’t remember,” I admit.

He sighs with annoyance. “I’m coming to pick you up. Be ready in ten—”

“No!” I interject. “I can handle this. I want to handle this.”

“You should always have a lawyer with you when being questioned. It’s just smart to have counsel with you whenever you speak to the police.”

“I’m not a suspect, Luke! I want to find Celeste more than anyone. I’m going to go there and demand they open an investigation, or search for her, or whatever the fuck they do. They just need to do something.” I’m pissed. Really fucking pissed . Celeste seems to have just vanished into thin air weeks ago and the world has just gone on without her as if nothing is amiss.

“Flower,” he soothes through the phone. “Of course you’re not a suspect. I wasn’t implying that. You just don’t want to get caught up in something you don’t understand. The law can be really complicated—”

I hang up before he has a chance to finish his condescending sentence. Nope, not dealing with that shit. I am smart, strong, and capable. I don’t need a man to explain shit to me. I got this. I turn off my phone and throw it in my purse before heading out the door. I’m going to storm down there and beg—no—demand that they trace her phone and send out a search party today.

The detective in front of me looks like something out of a bad TV show. He’s pudgy and balding with stains littering his wrinkled sports coat. He hasn’t even bothered to look up at me once, simply writing down my comments with an apathetic expression that tells me he’s not truly hearing me.

“So, do we make flyers or organize a search party or what?” I plead with him as he continues to scribble down nonsense on the paper.

“Ma’am, your friend is an adult.”

These fucking people and their fucking ma’am bullshit. I’m about ready to snap, but I take a deep breath and try to remain calm as I respond, “No, I’m aware, but she’s missing and I’d really like to help in any way I can with the investigation.”

“There is no investigation, ma’am. We’re opening a report and gathering information, but adults are free to come and go as they please. Not texting your friend back isn’t a crime.” His tone is far from kind. It’s both bored and rude.

I can feel my blood begin to boil. I went out of my way to put on one of my nicer outfits and look presentable so that they might take me seriously. The opaque tights are itchy against my skin and the ballet flats I’m wearing make me feel somehow meek.

“She hasn’t shown up to work in weeks—” I start before the very bored detective in front of me interrupts me.

“People are allowed to quit their jobs, ma’am. There’s no crime here so I can’t really—”

“She didn’t quit! Something bad happened to her!” The chair goes flying to the floor with a loud crash as I jump to my feet. I can feel eyes shift from around the crowded station to stare at me. Voices quiet down as nosy people watch my utter meltdown. I recognize that I’m making a scene but I can’t help myself. “You’re the police. It’s literally your job to fucking help people, so help me find her.”

My outburst has finally caught this asshole’s attention enough to cause him to bring his eyes to meet mine. But the look he gives me isn’t one of compassion or sympathy—no, he looks pissed.

“Ma’am, I am going to need you to sit down and calm down,” he growls in a low tone laced with male condescension I know all too well. Fuck that shit.

“First, I am not a ‘ma’am.’ My name is Olivia, use it, asshole. Second, I recognize that you’re a lazy piece of shit, but I’m not leaving here until you agree to do your job and look into my friend who is not willingly gone, but who is in fact a missing person.”

“That’s it,” Detective Asshole grumbles as he struggles to lift himself from his desk chair. “You need to leave right now, or else—”

A sudden presence next to me pulls my attention. Someone is standing at my shoulder right behind me.

“Carl, I got her,” the woman next to me speaks to the detective before putting her hand on my shoulder and pulling me away. “Come with me, Olivia.”

As soon as we turn and take three steps I throw her hand off my shoulder. But she persists, leading me to a desk on the other side of the room and motioning for me to sit. I fold my arms across my chest and give her my best fuck right off face.

“Fair enough,” she laughs before sitting behind the desk in the worn office chair. “My name is Kaitlin Pierce. Please, sit.” She motions again to the seat on the other side of her desk.

This woman seems nice enough. Her stringy blonde hair is not styled at all and she’s wearing a terrible fitted suit but her warm brown eyes seem nice. She gives off the vibe of someone intelligent but caring. After another moment, I relent and sink into the sad office chair.

“Thank you, Olivia.” Her voice is authoritative but kind. I think she might actually be alright, but I don’t want to get my hopes up in this fucking place. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“My best friend, Celeste Briggs, is missing.” I rush through the words, quick enough that hopefully she won’t be able to interrupt me. “I talked to her the weekend before Halloween and she was fine but she hasn’t responded to me since. And she hasn’t shown up to work since Halloween.” Detective Pierce listens intently and nods along as I explain. “Her Halloween decorations are up, but it appears she hasn’t been home and no one has heard from her. I think something bad happened to her.”

This Pierce lady thinks for a moment before swirling her chair and typing away on her keyboard. I sit uncomfortably, pulling at the skin on the corners of my nail beds in anxiety. Phones ring in the background and the hum of hushed conversations fill the expansive room.

Suddenly, the woman swings back to face me, causing me to flinch slightly. “First, Olivia, let me just start by saying that I completely believe you.” A small knot in my gut starts to unwind slightly. “And also, the other detective was right, adults are allowed to leave if they’d like. We can’t investigate a crime if there’s no evidence that one has occurred—”

I open my mouth to speak but Kaitlin holds up her hand to silence me. “However, I was able to open an official report, something it appears my colleague neglected to do. I am also going to do a wellness check today.”

“What the fuck is a wellness check?”

She stares up at me with a slightly amused look in her eyes. She can clearly handle my shit, which is good because I’m done playing nice. Nice girls don’t always finish first; sometimes when shit gets rough you gotta throw on your combat boots and get rough right back.

“I’m going to see if I can locate your friend, Olivia. I’ll have a look around her house and see if anything looks suspicious. I promise you, if I find any evidence of foul play, I’ll open an investigation immediately.”

It’s not exactly the going in guns-blazing approach I was hoping for but for now, it might be the best I’m going to get. And there’s nothing to say that I can’t continue to look for her myself. In fact, I think I know exactly where to start.

“And you’ll keep me informed? You have my number with the other information?” I inquire before I stand.

“Of course, you have my word.” The detective nods her head and I believe her. There’s something sincere about her that makes me believe she’ll keep her word. “Is there anything else you want to tell me about what’s been going on?” she asks.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her about my stalker. She could probably help. They could stake out my house, and probably find him—but I don’t.

“No, thank you, Detective.” I hold out my hand and shake hers as I stand to leave.

Stepping outside and into the cool rain, I race to my truck. Once inside the cab, I pull my phone from inside my back pocket and turn it on. Five missed calls and ten text messages. Pulling up my messages I see they’re all from Luke, and so are the phone calls. They range from apologizing to demanding I call him as soon as I can. What the hell is with this guy? Maybe Mr. Nice Guy isn’t so nice after all. I hover over his contact information, debating what exactly to do next. Finally making a decision, my heart pounds as I type out my message, but I hit send quickly before I have time to second guess myself.

Me: Meet me?

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Name the time and place, sweet siren.