"Mr. Wills you have to calm down; this isn't helping," detective Danes remarked impatiently.

"Calm? Are you even listening to me?! I am telling you this is her phone number. I've been dialing this number for the past five month, and, guess what, she picked up every time. Not this crap head. So can you explain to me again how does he OWN this damn number?!"

"I am relying on clear evidence here, Mr. Wills. What are you relying on? You keep saying that you reset your phone, and I believe you, but tell me again how can you prove that you ever called that number? The number is legally assigned to him by the telecommunication company, and all the procedures are valid and officially documented. And it's been like this for the past seven month. Now how can you explain this?"

"I... I don't know. But, sir, you have to believe me. Something must be going on. I know this is her number. I know the number by heart, and I assure you I have been calling it for the past five month. I don't know how he got it or how is it under his name. I just don't trust him. And he... wait... did you find Maggie?"

"He gave us an address, and we gave her a visit. But she's not what you're looking for; I believe. She got dark skin and cropped hair, which don't match with your fiancée's descriptions."

Something in me sighed in relief because she didn't turn out to be "his" Maggie, but the rest of me screamed in confusion.

"Then where is she?" I cried in frustration.

"Mr. Wills," in frustration, he replied as well, "I told you he's not to charge with anything. The man is innocent. At least for now. So unless you got proof that this number is hers, you can't point any fingers at him. I believe we've done enough unexplained intrusion into his life."

"Call history... you can check the company's call history. I am sure they've got one for every user."

"Do I look like an amateur to you?" he said with a flash of sharp temper, "of course, I did track his history. And it only proved him right. The first call this number received from yours was tonight ago. Now, do you have something to say?"

My brain refused to respond. What the hell is he babbling about?! This is Hazel's number. I know it by heart. I dialed it every day out of my memory. I intended to do that so the numbers would stay carved in my head. I don't care about papers and documents now; I know that's hers. But how to prove it? How to tell him I know this is Hazel's, when she's not even Hazel. I am going mad. It seems like I underestimated the situation. The kidnapper wasn't just a man with a purpose. It's an organization. An organization strong enough to manipulate a whole communication company or at least some people who worked there. But how can I prove that. I can't just accuse them of corruption when I had no evidence. Evidence? I don't know my fiancée's god damn name!

"Are you going to help me find her," I said with a weakness that I never thought existed.

He sent a long sigh and closed his eyes for less than a second.

"I am sorry, Mr. Wills, I do understand what you are going through. But that doesn't give you the right to interfere in our investigation. This is not your job. And we are doing what we can. But can you just tell me: how easy you expect this to be for us when we don't even have the slightest information about the victim like her name or even her picture? I still am not buying the fact that you don't know your fiancée's name."

"I know it's hard to comprehend, but I swear that's the truth. It's a game that escalated real quick. We fell for each other, I proposed, and she said yes. She got used to be called Hazel, after the color of her eyes, and I knew her only by the name of hazel. Then I no longer felt like her name meant anything more than everything she is, and, I guess, she enjoyed the mystery of it. We never discussed it," I was running out of breath, trying to capture how I felt.

He didn't seem to get it. I wonder if he ever fell in love. Then after an awkward pause, he nodded.

"Go home, Mr. Wills. Take some rest. I will do my best. And remember that I won't tolerate anything stupid that you do. Don't get yourself involved."

I nodded, and got onto my feet.

"Do even know where she lives, Mr. Wills?"

"Yes... Yes, of course. I know her flat's address. Actually, I live in the building across from hers."

"Okay, then will pay her a visit tomorrow. Maybe we could find a picture of her or, at least, something with her name on. Only then, the investigation will be officially on. You understand what I am dealing with here; don't you? I can't even file a real missing person memo until the moment. What name will I write on that memo? The girl with the red jacket? And I am still taking all the procedures on my personal responsibility. So I hope you don't improvise or do something that will make me regret helping you."

"I understand, sir, and I won't make you regret. I just want her home safe. And I am doing my best to find her, so maybe if we unified our efforts we..."

"Aren't the whole police department's efforts enough for you? You did your part and provided us with all the info you've got. Now don't get yourself involved. You can have a negative effect on the investigation if you messed up again, and, with "messed up", I mean something like attacking an innocent just for the fact that he had a phone number almost similar to your fiancée's. Or worse: I don't want to find your dead body in one of New York's streets. I am asking you again to stay away from any field work."

"I know that's her phone number, detective. I don't know how to prove it, I don't understand how there isn't any call history between us, but this number is hers. I will no longer go after the number because it seems like a dead end to me. But I can't promise you that I will just stay home and watch Netflix as you guys go after the kidnapper. I don't even know if I will be able to sleep tonight. But I promise you not to do anything crazy. I won't take a step without informing you. No... I will take the step with you, if this comforts you. But don't ask me to stay home and cheer for you as you go searching for her."

He stared at me like my argument wasn't convincing enough, but the stare then shifted into a mixture of frustration and exhaustion.

"Go home, Richard. Take some rest."

And with that I nodded and left the room.