Day Six, And Just Happy to Be Here

I got to 13,056 words today, which is kind of shocking to me considering I was hoping to get to 25,000 words. I'm definitely on pace to hit a target that I'm afraid to articulate because I don't want to jinx myself. I'm really enjoying all of the blogs. You are all doing such an awesome job, keep it up!

To address some things in the comments:
Indigo, glamouring is when a vampire uses their eyes to basically convince someone to do/believe something. It doesn't relate to peacocking, but I don't see why I wouldn't include that later in my novel.
Manta, those names that you listed for the Twister sequel are amazing. Seriously, wow. I can't wait to write those in.

Anyway, back to the book. Things have finally started happening.

“Ma’am,” said an incredibly young looking uniformed officer behind a messy desk, “we are unable to file a missing person’s report until a reasonable amount of time has passed. A few hours is not a reasonable amount of time.”

“But I told you,” said Chloe, who had never felt more exasperated, “she told me yesterday that she had been threatened.”

“I recall that you said that. But you were unable to give any information as to who was threatening her.” His face was unresponsive, like stone; statuesque, almost, if one was feeling like a bad poet. Chloe wondered who would ever want a statue of this useless cop, and she concluded that even his mother wouldn’t want such a thing.

“Listen young man,” Chloe said in an ill-advised school teacher tone, complete with finger wagging, of course, “I can’t tell you who is threatening her because I don’t know. And I don’t know who is threatening her because she doesn’t know. Hasn’t anyone ever threatened anyone anonymously?”

“Being such a young man and all I wouldn’t know, would I?” he responded, smirking coldly. He clearly did not respond well to belittling.

“Er, I thought I was complimenting you on how young you look,” Chloe said disingenuously. If talking to him like he was a bad student wasn’t going to work, perhaps a pathetic attempt at flirting might.
He seemed to accept the compliment, however, and he smiled.

“People always tell me that I look younger than twenty five,” he said, looking pleased with himself. “I still get IDed all the time!”

“Is that right?” Chloe said, plastering a fake smile on her face. “I would have never guessed that you were twenty five. Twenty two, maybe, but definitely not twenty five. What’s your secret?”

“I try not to react to things with my face,” he said. “It helps me to not get wrinkles. Also, it makes me look like a tough cop, which really goes over well with the ladies.”

He winked at her, which sent a shiver down her spine. This was the second time in as many days that someone gross had winked at her lecherously, and she wondered to herself when this became acceptable and commonplace. She made a note to herself that she should never wink again.

Well, Chloe though, that explained his gormless facial expressions.

“Well, it’s working, um,” she leaned in to read his nametag, “Officer Clarkson.”

She immediately regretted leaning in so close, because it seemed to further imply that she was hitting on Officer Clarkson. Despite her best efforts to be an embarrassing pick-up artist, she seemed to be doing pretty well. She wondered where this talent had been back when she needed it?

“I really am worried about my boss,” Chlose said, trying to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand rather than how young Officer Clarkson looks.

“Do you have any reason to believe that she was making up the threats? How often does she act out in order to get attention?” Office Clarkson asked, putting on a face of concern.

Chloe sidestepped his question of “how often” does she act out in order to get attention in the hopes that she could continue to ingratiate herself with the officer.

“I don’t believe she has ever done that, Officer,” Chloe said, pulling out some lip gloss and starting to dab it on her lips in a way that she perceived to be seductive.

“Are you alright?” the officer asked, now looking genuinely concerned. “You look like you’re in pain or something. Can I get you anything”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Chloe mumbled, sadly putting the lip gloss away. “Not coming into work is not like her at all. She is always at the bakery before everyone else, and stays after everyone goes. Her apartment is empty, she didn’t leave any messages, and the bakery will probably be in shambles if she doesn’t come back soon. We need her, officer! Please, just file a report. Do it for me,” she pleaded. She looked him in the eyes with her best sad, doe-eyed look.

“Well, maybe I can help,” he said. Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. “Was she dressing like a slut? That’s dangerous, you know.”

Chloe was shocked.

“I think what you mean to ask ‘What was she wearing so that I can put it in my report?’ That is the only appropriate question at this moment.”

“I was trying to be helpful.”

“Try harder.”

“Well, considering that you’re not a family member or particularly close to the person in question, you are unable to file a report,” Officer Clarkson said dismissively.

“You couldn’t have said that to me in the beginning?”

“You told me I looked young!”

“I can’t believe what a waste of time this was! She’s missing, I know it, and there’s no time to lose. But clearly spending time at the Toronto Police Department is basically time lost.”

“I wouldn’t talk to an officer of the law that way,” Officer Clarkson said forebodingly. “You might find that disrespecting me makes me considerably less pleasant than I have been with you so far.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Chloe said, pushing her chair away from the table and standing up so that she was looking down on him, literally and figuratively.

The officer was smarter than to threaten her in his own police station, but the look that he gave her said it all.

Chloe speed-walked all the way back to the bakery, exuding rage from every pore. Her steps were more like stomps, and she almost yelled at a group of children who blocked her way. It reminded her of a man that she had once encountered at the mall who told everyone to “get out of the way, eh” as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd, leaving five women who appeared to be his daughters in the dust.

She stood outside of the back door to the bakery, willing herself not to cry in frustration. She had to keep it together, at least for the others. Sadly, that was easier said than done. Her friend and boss was missing, the police wouldn’t help her, and she didn’t know the first thing about investigating such a case. The Nancy Drew books that she had read as a kid did not seem like they were going to be particularly helpful.

She held her head in her hands in frustration, wishing that the world would swallow her hole. But as she looked down, she noticed something on the ground that she hadn’t seen there before.
Glitter. And lots of it.

“Curious,” she said aloud. “Very curious.”