Talk To Me

Chapter Thirty-Four

February nineteen

"I can't believe you talked me into this," James muttered as he stepped out of Oliver's car, his expression tight with irritation. "It's ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous is you trying to talk me out of it," Oliver shot back, striding toward the sidewalk with purpose.

James followed, his footsteps heavy against the pavement. "We know where she is, Oliver. You're overreacting."

Oliver stopped abruptly, turning on his heel. His father nearly collided with him. "Overreacting?" His voice was sharp, disbelief etched into every syllable. "She's been missing for six days. No calls, no texts. We already waited too long. I can't believe I listened to you." He shook his head, frustration burning in his chest.

James exhaled through his nose, looking away. "It'll be embarrassing when they find her working on that ship. What will people think, Oliver?"

Oliver's eyes darkened, his patience wearing thin. "Who the fuck cares what people think?" He gestured sharply with his hand.

"Don't curse at me!" James snapped, stepping down from the curb.

"Then don't provoke me," Oliver muttered under his breath, following after him.

The police station smelled of burnt coffee and musty air. Inside, the atmosphere buzzed with quiet tension. To the left, a row of white plastic chairs lined the wall, occupied by a few tired-looking people waiting their turn. On the right, a reception desk stood behind thick, fingerprint-smudged glass. A small queue had formed, two people standing in front of the booth. Oliver joined them, his father at his side.

The elderly woman at the front of the line shuffled away, clutching a stack of papers and muttering to herself as she lowered into one of the chairs. Oliver stepped forward, now second in line, as a plump man in his fifties took his place at the reception window.

James sighed heavily, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He bounced his knee, his patience wearing thin with every passing second. The man ahead of them droned on, his words slow and deliberate, dragging out the process.

James leaned in, his voice low. "I'm just running to the bathroom real quick."

Oliver didn't take his eyes off the booth. "It'll be our turn soon. Hold it."

James scoffed. "When you get to my age, you'll see there's no holding it." He grumbled as he turned and disappeared down the long corridor.

As Oliver expected, the plump man finally finished, stepping away from the booth. Oliver moved forward, rubbing the back of his neck. The young woman behind the glass lifted her head, scanning him with sharp, familiar eyes.

"Oliver Brown," she said before he could introduce himself. "Haven't seen you since graduation."

Oliver frowned, thrown off. He studied her face—stern features, softened only by the curve of her smile. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe top knot, exposing a high forehead. Something about her nagged at him. Had he slept with her?

He realized he was staring too long. "Uh—sorry—"

"I was a grade below you," she cut in smoothly. "Mia was my tutor."

Oliver blinked. "I... don't remember you." The admission felt awkward, but it was the truth.

She nodded as if she had expected that. "How can I help you?" Her smile faded, professionalism taking over.

"I want to file a missing person report." He hesitated, glancing toward the hallway James had disappeared down. "My sister's phone is off, and we haven't heard from her in six days."