Harlow had been staring at her phone for what seemed like hours. Unlocking the screen again, she punched in the number for the police, before clearing it off, with a sigh.
“I feel like a stuck record with this damn thing.” She said, throwing the phone on the Chesterfield sofa.
Her thoughts had been in overdrive since Caleb had told her that he was murdered. She wanted to help him but had no idea how. She had thought of reporting it to the police and had been sat there, on her coffee table, entering the number then repeatedly erasing it. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“It’s just a call. That’s all, ” she told herself, reaching for her phone once more.
Sighing again, Harlow unlocked her phone, punched in a number, and hit the dial button.
“Hiya. I need advice. Can you ta
