“Aren’t you the one that had Archibald Talaverra go missing off your porch?” he asks, looking me up and down, pausing on my chest for a second too long, as if my tits are going to give him the answer. “Yes,” I bite out, growing impatient. He hums in response and goes back to writing his report. “You think it was the same guy?” “It'd be pretty fucked if it wasn’t,” I mutter. When the cop just side-eyes me, I sigh. “Yes, I do.” He stops writing after that and asks me a few more customary questions. Do you have a description, do you know who he might be, and so on. I give him all the information I have, except what’s most important. I don’t tell him about the text messages. I don’t know why, but they feel... private. Which is fucking stupid. Makes no sense, but I can’t bring myself to say anything. The police officer leaves with absolutely no helpful information. But he still leaves with a police report, and that’s what’s important. It’s not until after I take a hot shower and settle into my bed that I read his message. UNKNOWN: The more you disobey me, the harder your punishment. “Tm going to find this little dick prick,” Daya declares angrily, practically slamming the keys through her laptop as she types god knows what. I just finished telling her the details of last night.