Dedicated to my internship (Internet friendship) x_FireLight_x she sent me a PM to just say thanks and our convo escalated quickly (0-100 real quick) thanks for that it made me laugh really hard! And thanks to everyone who votes and comments it means so much!!!
~Mar ♥️

  ***

   My mouth chomps down on my nails. I'm sitting in the same office as the first time I came to the station. Behind his desk is Officer Darren who is scrambling around gathering a file with a small number of sheets of paper which are probably intended for me. 

Finally, he pulls up his chair across the desk from me ready to talk. He hasn't mentioned a word to me about what this is all about since he forced me down here. My nerves are on high, but I try my best to cover my anxiety. I remove my hand from my mouth and feel a lump rise in my throat. He folds his hands on top and stares me down making me shift uncomfortably in my seat.

"Now, Ms. Harris, I would like you to explain why you filed a false report?"

"What do you mean by a false report?" I have no clue as to what he's talking about. Maybe he will elaborate because I am so lost right now. 

"Quit playing dumb, blondie. Were you not the one who came to me three days ago claiming you had a stalker?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"We traced the phone number that you gave us back to the original owner of the phone and it's registered under your name," he interrupts.

"I don't have a second phone. Just the one I gave to you. I pay my own phone bill and I honestly could not afford to take up a second plan." He gives me a doubtful look and opens the file. The first sheet on the miniature stack is a phone bill. At the top is, like he said, my name. I scan the sheet. It's a record of the phone bill for the other phone. It was paid this month and last month.

  "This isn't me," I repeat for the millionth time. All the begging and pleading in my voice that was there before is diminished. Now, I'm just mad. Whoever this is has thought this through and left no loose ends. So now what do i do?

  "Ms. Harris you keep saying that, but you give no explanation as to how you can prove you're innocent. I, however, have proof saying that you are the one who filed a false report. See this," his grubby finger taps a spot on the page. When I read it clearly it is my credit card number. Threats, stalker, and identity theft. Why doesn't this surprise me. "That is most definitely your credit card number."

  "Yes, but haven't you ever gotten cases of identity theft before? I didn't pay for this phone. Whoever is stalking me obviously took it. Considering I have someone watching my every move the fact that they got my credit card pin isn't so unbelievable."

    "I want to believe you, I really do," he says. I call BS. This man sits on a throne of lies. "But, the fact is you have no proof to say how you're innocent and we have proof against you. The facts don't lie, Marley."

  "So you're saying I am?" He neither confirms nor denies my question.

  "What about the notes?"

  "What about them?"

  "What did you get on them?" He scratches his chin.

  "We had a look. The one about a...a ventriloquist? No, that wasn't it. It was about -"

  "A puppet and a puppeteer. Yes I know that one. It was the first note I received. What about it?"

  "Well we did some tests and it was written in blood. That's what all the red dropping substance on it was. Chicken blood to be exact," he says casually without a hint of humour. It doesn't even seem to bother him. I, on the other hand, am disgusted. My hand touched that paper! I cringe and furiously wipe my hands on the hem of my shirt under the table. Guess I'll have to make a Bath and Body works stop on my way home to buy some hand sanitizer. He reads my horrified expression and feels the urge to elaborate.

  "Don't worry. It's been dry for weeks. Even before you got it."

  Yeah because that is so much more reassuring.

"Okay good to know, but it's still nasty," I point out. He simply shrugs in response before leaning over to a phone on the far right corner of his desk. He picks it up, but doesn't dial a number.

"Now, since the only harm you did was file a false report for a possible stalker and the only people who know about this are you and myself. You've never been in any sort of trouble before I think we can let you off with a warning," he announces before calling the secretary at the main desk.

"Hi yes hello Petunia...yes I have her right here...yes please call and inform him he can pick her up now...alright....thanks," he tells her.

"Now I don't want you to go looking for any more trouble where there is none. We already have a murder-two murders-to solve and we don't need a little girl running around crying wolf."

"This was a real report. But I'm sorry I wasted your precious time." Precious time you could be using to eat a doughnut.

"Well, like i said before, you don't have any proof to prove your case. I just wanted to clarify why you would file a false one. Your dad is on your way to pick you up. Have a wonderful evening Ms. Harris," he replies with a smile before leaving the office. No matter how many times I say it's not false he won't listen to me. It seems the only thing that goes through his ears are infections.

I take my leave and stand out front of the station waiting for my dad to pick me up. I'm kind of glad he's being ordered to pick me up. Now he can't avoid me because he'll be right here with me trapped in a moving vehicle. I tap my foot impatiently against the stone step. Finally I see his familiar Porsche pull into the station parking lot. He stops right in front of me. As soon as I pull the handle and it doesn't budge I realize he still has it locked. He keeps his gaze out of the driver side window with his arms crossed tightly against his chest.

"Dad open up," I yell loud enough so he can't pretend he didn't hear me.

He shakes his head. "No you're gonna yell at me." Sometimes I wonder who's the adult in this house.

"No I'm not. I just want to go home. It's been a long day," I lie trying to coax him into letting me in. I watch in silence as his hand reluctantly presses the unlock button. I slip in before he has a chance to lock it on me.

"You've been avoiding me," I accuse without wasting a second. He looks at me with a face that says WTF.

"You said you weren't going to yell at me," he whines like a 5 year old even though he's in his early 40's.

"Guess what? You're not the only one who lies in this house. I learned from the best." He groans and starts to drive.

"You never answered my question," I remind him.

"Okay! Yes, I have," he admits. I feel satisfied that he still has the capability to be honest, but am hurt that he's avoiding me.

"Why?"

"Because that disappointed look you gave me as soon as you walked out of my office. I hate that look and I was so ashamed of what I did that I couldn't face you after it. I've been finding ways to work late or stay at a couple friend's houses just so I wouldn't face your wrath."

"You have to suffer the consequences of your actions. What did you want me to do? Bake a cake and write 'Worlds Best Liar' in frosting and congratulate you for keeping it up for so long?" I ask sarcastically while rolling my eyes. "I'm over it. This is your problem now not mine. Everything is on you." I turn the radio on and thankfully he's gets the message to just let it go.

Soon after we pull into our house.

"I'm going to take a walk to get some fresh air. I'll bring Lacy with me. Poor dog stays inside all day," I inform him. He nods and disappears in his study. I whistle and wait for her to come. She doesn't.

"Lacy," I shout and clap my hands together to get her attention. "Come here girl."

"Hey Marley, check your room or around the house. She could be sleeping," suggests my dad. I scour the main floor, but still can't find her. I stomp up the stairs while calling her name. From behind my closed bedroom door I can hear her low whine. I push open the door and finally find Lacy. Just not in one piece.

***