11
My hands are shaking as I ring the police. I don’t think I’ve ever rung them before.
I decided to ring 101, the non-emergency number. It doesn’t seem to warrant a 999 call. There’s no immediate emergency, and to be honest I don’t want the drama.
The woman on the other end of the phone is professional and calming. I guess she has to be. That’s her job. I tell her everything I can remember, going back to the first time I met Gavin on Friday. I tell her about the patisserie, about him approaching me, me going into the studio. I tell her about the weird underwear photo, then the photos I received from him today. I make a point of the fact that I did my research on this guy, and that everything seemed legit. I tell her I’m worried, that he knows where I work and where I go out socially. I
