Hey, Harold. How's it goin, buddy? We here at the station are just having a BLAST! Well, I am, at least. Your cop buddies are asleep. Crazy how you leave and they all start slacking, right? I mean, they even let me use your computer! And man, it took a while to hack your account. Though honestly, I really am surprised that a hard ass like you would even keep a blog. But hey, you never know.
Anyways, down to buisness. I know youve been contacted by someone who calls themselves "thevoice." They're probably trying to get you to let me go or some shit, but trust me, and I know you won't but just do it anyway, you don't want to listen to them. They will set you up then knock you down so hard, you won't be able to get back on your feet before your dead. Yeah, it sounds confusing, and it is. Everything regarding Him is confusing.
So here's what I propose. When you come to work tomorrow, shut off the camera to an interogation room and make sure noone will interupts us. We'll have a lot to talk about tomorrow. Of course, it goes without saying, but you mention this to no one at the station.
Well, see you tomorrow, good ol' Harry. Can I call you Harry? I'm gonna call you Harry. Later!
P.S. You may want to start clerifying things. Your "journal" is received by a much larger audience than just Vicki, whoever the hell that is.