Talk To Me

Chapter thirty-four

February nineteen

"I can't believe you talked me into this," James mumbled, stepping out of Oliver's car. "It's ridiculous."

"What is ridiculous and what I can't believe, is you trying to talk me out of this," Oliver said and walked to the sidewalk.

"We know where she is Oliver, you are overreacting," James said, following his son down the street.

"Overreacting?" Oliver stopped and turned to his father. "There is no news from her for six days, dad. We already waited for too long. I can't believe I listen to you." He shook his head.

"It will be embarrassing when they find her working on that ship. What will people think, Oliver?" James looked up at this son.

"Who the fuck cares what people think?" Oliver swayed his palm.

"Don't curse me!" James stepped down the street.

"Don't provoke me," Oliver whispered, following his father.

The police station felt crowded as Brown men stepped inside. The coffee smell seemed apparent in the space. On the left stood a few white chairs, and on the right side held a reception corner. Two people stood in line in front of the booth and Oliver stopped behind them.

James followed his son's actions and stood at Oliver's left side. The elderly lady in the line's front took some papers and moved to the chairs, inspecting the papers as she crossed the room.

Oliver took a step as the plump man in his fifties took a spot in front of reception. James wiggled his knee as his patience seemed unbalanced. The man in the front dragged his speech with the receptionist and James felt more impatient.

"I just ran to the bathroom really quick," James said as he leaned closer to Oliver's ear.

"It will be our turn soon," Oliver said, motioning to the booth in front of them. "Hold it."

"When you come to my age, you will see there is no holding," James mumbled and left toward the long corridor.

As Oliver suspected, the plump man finished filling the papers, and that left just Oliver in front of the booth. He rubbed the back of his neck as a young police officer scanned him. He stepped closer and prepared to speak.

"Oliver Brown," the young woman spoke first. "Never seen you after graduation."

Oliver stared at the woman. He felt puzzled and couldn't place her anywhere. The first question was: did he sleep with her? She seemed familiar, her facial features appeared strict, just her smile gave her a warm look. Her black hair was held in a tight top knot, revealing her tall forehead.

He realized he stared too long. "Sorry."

"I was a grade below you," she interrupted him. "Mia was my tutor."

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you," he said, embarrassed.

She nodded. "So, how can I help you?" Her smile disappeared and her features seemed stricken.

"I want to file a missing person report," he said, glancing toward the corridor. "My sister's phone is turned off and I have not talked to her in six days."

"She is an adult, right?"

"Yes, but it's not like her to disappear without warning us."

"Wait, a minute," the woman said as a man walked by behind her back.

She stood up and walked to the man in his late fifties. She spoke in a hushed tone, which forced Oliver to lean closer to the booth. The thick plastic screen prevented him from hearing anything that the girl and the man spoke of, and the man's sight shifted to Oliver. Forcing Oliver to feel more anxious. After they exchanged a few more words, the man walked to the door and left the booth. He combed his gray mustache with his fingers before reaching Oliver.