Chapter 2 Chapter One

This is Lacey.Madison's story, not mine.I really hope that the stories of the two can be separated, but unfortunately there is no way.I always thought that I sewed the two together. Although the seam was tight, the thread could be untied at any time.However, I now find that the sutures are deeper and deeper than I imagined, invisible to the naked eye, and out of my control. But there is me in her story, and everything I do.Frank thinks it's someone else's fault, especially Daniel.As for Sam, as far as I could tell, he felt it was Lacey's fault, in some vague, slightly reversed sense.However, whenever I opened my mouth to refute, they would glance at me cautiously before changing the subject.I feel like Frank thinks I have a weird variant of Stockholm Syndrome.It's true that undercover agents occasionally have this reaction, but I don't.I don't want to protect anyone, and no one asks me to protect it.Lacie and the others would never know that someone blamed them, and if they did, they wouldn't care.There may be someone else who shuffles the cards, but I am the one who takes the cards. I finish the cards in my hand, and I have my own reasons.

As for Lacey, all you have to remember is that she doesn't exist.It's me and Frank.An undercover false identity that Mackey had concocted years ago, in his dingy office on Harcourt Street, a sunny afternoon.Frank wanted to infiltrate the drug ring operating at University College Dublin, and I wanted that job, probably the most I wanted in my life. Frank this guy is a legend.He's been undercover since his early thirties, and he's the number one in Irish history, so everyone says.Bold and unscrupulous, he handled cases like a high-altitude tightrope, and he never used a guard net, never did.Frank's infiltrating the IRA and Mafia gangs was as common as entering a bar.Everyone I met told me about Frank's infiltrating into the Snake King's gang.He once became suspicious of Frank and threatened to use a nail gun on his hands.Frank stared at the Snake King intently, without sweating a single drop on his face. In the end, the Snake King changed his mind, patted him on the back to apologize, and gave him a fake Rolex as an apology.Frank still wears that watch to this day.

I was just a rookie among rookies, just a year out of the Temple Mo Police Academy.Two days before meeting Frank, he called the bureau and asked someone who had gone to college and looked to be in his twenties.I was patrolling Sligo in a yellow egg-shine vest that was too big, and I thought the townspeople all looked the same.I saw that Frank was supposed to be nervous, but I wasn't at all flustered because I wanted to be an undercover cop so much that I didn't have time to be nervous. I went to the office, the door was open, and Frank was sitting on the edge of the desk in jeans and a faded blue T-shirt, flipping through my personal files.The office was small and looked like it had been turned over, as if Frank only used it as storage.The desk was empty, not even a family photo, and the bookshelves were stacked with papers, CDs of blues records, tabloids, a deck of cards, and a woman's pink cardigan with the label still uncut.I knew right away that I was going to like this guy.

Casey.Meadows.He said, looking up at me. Yes, sir.I said. He was of medium height and stocky, but fit, with perfect shoulders and close-cropped brown hair.I always thought he should be unremarkable, blurry, maybe like the cancer man in the American TV series X-Files.Unexpectedly, Frank has sharp lines, rough outlines, big and blue eyes, and seems to leave a stream of heat wherever he goes.He's not my type, but I bet he's a man of all ages with women. Just call me Frank, only the ones in the office call me sir.Frank spoke with the accent of the old city of Dublin, with slight changes in his tone, with a deliberate and provocative taste.He moved away from the edge of the table and held out his hand.

I'm Kathy.I shook hands with Frank and introduced myself. He pointed to a chair and sat back on the edge of the table.The report said, he patted my personal file and said, you are very resistant to stress. It took me a second to catch what he meant.During my training at the police academy, I was assigned to a not-so-clean area of ​​Kirk City.Once I met a schizophrenic teenager who frantically threatened to cut his throat with his grandfather's razor, but I persuaded him to surrender.I almost forgot about it until Frank asked, and it occurred to me that I might be good at undercover work.

Hope it is.I said. You are only twenty-seven years old this year? Twenty-six. The sunlight hits my face through the window, and Frank takes a good look at me.You look like twenty-one years old, no problem at all.The report said that you studied in college for three years, which school was it? Trinity College, psychology. Frank raised his eyebrows and put on a terrified expression.Ah, it turned out to be an expert, so why didn't you finish reading? I found out I was allergic to the British Irish accent and the doctor couldn't find the cause.I told him. He likes the joke.So you get a rash when you get into UCD?

I will take antihistamines. Frank bounced off the edge of the table to the window and asked me to go.Well, he said, see those two people down there? I saw a pair of young men and women walking and chatting along the street. The woman fumbled around and took out the key. The two walked into the apartment building with a monotonous appearance.Describe them to me.After Frank finished speaking, he leaned his back against the window, hooked his thumbs on the belt and looked at me. They're students, I say, because they're carrying schoolbags.They went out to buy food because they had shopping bags from Deng's Supermarket in their hands.The girl is better off financially than the guy because her coat is expensive, and the guy's jeans are patched, but not a popular style.

Are they a couple, friends, or roommates? Couples, because they walked closer than friends, their heads were still slightly moved together. have they been together for a long time? I love this new way of using my brain.Yes, for a while, I said.Frank raised his eyebrows questioningly, and I wasn't sure for a moment if I was right, but I thought about it soon.They didn't look at each other when they talked, and the lovers who were new to each other always met their eyes, and there was no need to keep watching their words after a long time. do they live together No, otherwise the man will take out the key, this is the girl's apartment.The girl had at least one roommate, though, because they looked up at the window at the same time to check that the curtains were drawn.

How are they feeling? The relationship is good because the girl makes the boy laugh, and the guy is usually not amused by the girl's jokes unless the two of them have something to talk about.The two shopping bags were carried by the man, and the girl helped the man hold the gate before she followed in, showing that the two of them took good care of each other. Frank nodded at me.Well done, that's what an undercover agent should have.I don't mean telepathy or anything but paying attention to things, analyzing things, and doing it subconsciously.Then there is only speed and courage left, no matter what you say or do, you must be fast enough, 100% sure, as long as you hesitate a little, it will be over, maybe even your life will be lost.You'll have to keep your whereabouts secret for the next year or two.Do you have family?

Only aunt and uncle.I said. Boy friend? have. You can contact them, but they cannot contact you, is it acceptable to them? If you can't do it, you have to do it.I said. Frank was still lounging by the window, but I caught a glimpse of the piercing flash of his blue eyes and knew he had been watching me carefully.We're not targeting Colombian drug lords, you'll be hanging out with the minions most of the time, at least at first.But you have to understand that this job is not safe at all.Half of those guys were unconscious almost all day, and the other half were serious about business.In other words, if they want to kill you, they will never show mercy.Will you be worried?

No, I said, I mean it, not at all. Great, said Frank, come on, let's get some coffee and get to work. I didn't realize it for a while, and the matter was already settled.I expected three hours of questioning and a bunch of weird blot tests about my mother, but Frank didn't like that at all.I still don't know at what point he made the decision.I've been looking for a chance to ask him for a long time, but I don't know if I still want to know what he found out about me in the first place, so that he can be sure that I really have something. We went to the bureau cafeteria and drank burnt coffee and a bag of chocolate chip cookies and spent the rest of the day making up Lacey's identity, and I picked the name.This is how you remember it.Frank said.Last name is Maddison, because my last name is Meadows, which sounds alike enough to turn around when people call me that.I named it Lacey because when I was a kid I imagined I had a sister named Lacey. Frank took out a large piece of paper and wrote down Lacey's past for me: You were born in Hall Street Hospital on March 1, 1979. Your father, Sean, was a low-level diplomatic officer stationed in Canada, so we want you to twitch your legs Only when you have an excuse, as long as you tell me that there is an urgent matter at home, you can get away.It also means that you traveled a lot as a child, so not many people knew you.Ireland is small, and it's easy to find someone's cousin's girlfriend who is in your class.Of course we can tell you that you are a foreigner, but I don't want to let you down because of your accent.Mother Caroline, she has a job? Nurse. Be careful, move your mind faster, and pay attention to the meaning of each sentence.Nurses have to take the exam again every time they go to a country.Your mother trained, but quit her job when you were seven and moved the family out of Ireland.Do you want siblings? OK, it doesn't matter, I said, I want a brother. It's exciting to do this, you can have what you want, you have complete freedom, you can spend as much as you want, and it makes me want to laugh all the time.From relatives, nationality to all kinds of things, everything was laid out in front of me, and I was free to choose.I could grow up in a Bhutanese palace with seventeen brothers and sisters, a private driver, and be whatever I wanted.I stuffed another chocolate chip cookie into my mouth, and Frank found me smiling, as if I didn't take undercover seriously. Whatever you want.Your brother is six years younger than you, so he still lives in Canada with your parents.What's his name? Stephen.Virtual brother, I have been living in a fantasy world since I was a child. Do you get along with your brother?What does he look like?hurry up!I took a breath, and Frank urged me on. He's a cunning little guy, an oversized football fan who only fights with his mom and dad all day long because he's fifteen.But still willing to talk to me. The sun slanted on the scratched tabletop, and Frank smelled fresh, with the faint fragrance of soap and leather.He was a good teacher, a gifted professor, scribbling dates, places, and events with a black Pilot pen, and soon Lacey slowly took shape like a Polaroid, curling up from the paper, floating in the air like A wisp of incense.Her face is my face, born of half-forgotten dreams. When did you have your first boyfriend? where do you live What's his name? Who gets rid of each other first?Why? Frank found the ashtray, flicked the cigarette case, and got me a John's Premium cigarette. The dappled sunlight left the table, and the sky outside the window began to darken. Frank turned the seat, took a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, and refilled the coffee. Here's the reward, he said, Cheers! We portray Lacey as a girl with great energy, smart and well-educated, kind-hearted since childhood, but she can't calm down and can't teach her how to teach her.Maybe a little naive and unprepared, always eager to answer you, and don't need the other party to ask again. Lacey was the bait, Frank said plainly, and it had to taste right for the dealer to take the bait.She had to be naive enough not to be seen as a threat by them, dignified enough to be useful to them, and rebellious enough not to wonder why she wanted to join them. By the time we got ready, it was already dark.Very well, Frank rolled up the large scroll with Lacey's life on it, handed it to me and said: There will be a police detective training course in ten days, I will help you sign up, come back after the end, I will work with you for a while, When UCD starts in October, you can go in. Frank grabbed the leather jacket from the hook in the corner of the bookshelf, turned off the lights and closed the door of the small dark office.I walked to the park At the station, I was surrounded by wonderful feelings.I felt floating in secrets, into new worlds, hearing Lacey's biography rustle in the pocket of my uniform coat.Everything is so fast and so simple. Then a series of things happened, which made me transfer from an undercover police officer to a domestic violence unit. I don’t want to talk about the process of going back and forth. In short, the number one drug dealer at University College Dublin was insane and stabbed me several times; The public was injured and promoted to the serious crime team, but the serious crime team was too troublesome, so I left.I hadn't thought of Lacey for many years, of her phantom short life.I'm not one to reminisce about the past, at least I try very hard not to.The dead are gone, and it would be a waste of time to discuss them in the first place.But I now feel like I've always understood that Lacie wasn't going to let it go.You can't just invent a person, a life with a first kiss, a humorous personality, and a particular preference for a certain type of sandwich, and then expect her to disappear as soon as you finish using her, and turn back into a few scribbles and spiked coffee again.I think I've known for a long time that Lacey will come back to me after all, one day. It took her four years, choosing her timing carefully, before she finally found her.It was an early April morning, just a few months after I left the Major Crimes Unit, and the location was the shooting range. The shooting range is underground in the city center, away from half the traffic and thick smoke on Dublin roads.I didn't really need to go because my marksmanship was always good and I was still months away from my qualifying exam.But I woke up too early that day, there was still a long time before going to work, and I couldn't calm down to do other things. Only shooting practice could soothe my inner anxiety.I slowly adjusted my earmuffs, checked my sidearm, and waited until everyone else was so focused on aiming that they wouldn't notice my first few rounds, like some cartoon character getting electrocuted, before I pulled the trigger.People who panic easily have a way of responding, and you develop subtle tricks for not letting others see that you are panicking.If you learn fast enough, you'll soon be able to live like a normal person and get on with it day by day. I was not like this before.I always thought it was Jane who made all the fuss.The ability of the characters in Austin's works, otherwise it would be the case of a girl who always uses baby voice to ask others to pay for her.My attitude in the face of crisis is nothing more than keeping smelling salts in my small bag at all times. Even if the poisonous monster of Dublin University College stabbed me with a knife, I didn't panic.The psychiatrist at the bureau spent weeks trying to convince me that deep inside I was really hurt, but finally gave up and admitted that I was fine (the tone was regretful, because he rarely encountered police officers who were assassinated, I think he must hope that I have unimaginable sequelae) and let me return to work. Ashamed to say, it wasn't a spree of murders, or a failed hostage crisis, or a quiet, shy man storing human organs in a Tupperware crisper that terrified me.The last case I handled in the Serious Crime Unit was very simple, just like the dozens of cases I handled before, without any abnormalities. A teenage girl was killed on a summer morning, and my partner and I were hanging out in the group when the call came in.Outwardly everything seemed to be going well, and within a month we announced that we had solved the case and once again saved society from the attacks of evil.The media unanimously praised us, and our year-end performance appraisal was also very good.No thrilling car chases, no violent firefights, nothing.I was pretty miserable, but I only suffered flesh and blood injuries. I had two stitches on my face, and I didn’t even leave a scar in the end. In short, everyone is happy. But in private, Vesta’s actions, even after many months, as long as you mention these five words to the serious crime team, even if the other party does not know the ins and outs of the matter, he will give you a meaningful look, spread his hands and raise his eyebrows. Pick one, as if not wanting to get involved in a hybrid party or commit collateral damage.At the end of the day, not only did we lose, but we lost ugly.Some people are like small Chernobyl nuclear power plants, with a bright and beautiful appearance, but secretly releasing toxins incessantly. Just get close to them and open your mouth to breathe and you will be completely destroyed.Some cases (you can ask any cop you want) are just so vicious that they devour everything they touch. The murder case was solved, but my symptoms were sure to make a leather-sandal-wearing therapist jump for joy.Luckily no one thinks that getting scratched in the face warrants a visit to a therapist.My reaction was standard post-traumatic syndrome: trembling, loss of appetite, bouncing to the ceiling when the doorbell or phone rang, plus a little bit of my personal quirk.My coordination was weird, and for the first time in my life I tripped over myself, kicked a door frame, or banged my head against a cabinet.The other thing is that I don't dream anymore.I used to dream about a chaotic sequence of images, pillars of fire billowing over black mountains, vines bursting from bricks, or herds of deer in their bare robes running and jumping on sandy beach. But now as soon as I lay my head on the pillow, drowsiness knocks me out like a gavel.Sam said (he's my boyfriend, and I still find it hard to believe when I think about it sometimes) that recovery takes time and that the panic will eventually wear off.I told him I wasn't sure, and he just nodded quietly, telling me that the feeling of uncertainty would pass.Sam can be really annoying at times. I have considered the usual police solution, which is to drink too much, start drinking early in the morning and keep drinking.But I was afraid of calling the wrong people in the middle of the night and telling them the truth after drinking.Besides, I've found shooting practice to be almost as effective without the troublesome side effects. It's actually ridiculous to do that because I'm not afraid of noise at all, but I guess it doesn't matter.As long as I hit a few targets, the fuse on the back of my head will be snapped, the hands holding the gun will become firm as a rock, and the whole world will disappear into the distance in an instant, leaving only me, the target paper in front of me, and the familiar sight in the air. The smell of smoke and my back arching against the recoil. Walking out of the shooting range, I became both calm and numb, as if I had taken a rest.By the time the rake wears off completely, I've done another day and can come home from get off work and beat my prickly head out of the way.As a result of my frequent visits to the shooting range, I was able to fire ten shots at a distance of thirty-five meters, nine of which hit the head.The range manager was a dry little guy, and he started looking at me like a bole, talking about wanting me to participate in the police shooting competition. That morning, I finished shooting at seven, went to the locker room to clear guns, and chatted with two members of the patrol team, but kept a distance so that they didn't feel like they could have breakfast.Just then, the phone rang. God, one of the two colleagues said, you belong to the domestic violence team, right?What time is it now, and someone is so idle, beating up his wife? There is always time to do important things.As I said, I took out the wardrobe key from my pocket. It might have been a surprise operation, my younger colleagues grinned at me, remembering to look for snipers.This kid is tall and big, with red hair, and thinks I'm cute.He didn't forget to flex his muscles, and I noticed him glance at my ring finger. It must be because we couldn't be found.said his partner. I fished my phone out of the closet, and the screen showed Sam, with the missed call symbol blinking in the corner. hi, i said: what's up? Casey!Sam said, in a horrible tone, panting sickly, as if beaten out of breath.Are you okay? I turned my back on my fellow patrol team and walked around the corner.I am fine.Why do you ask that?What happened? Jesus, Sam swallowed harshly, as if his throat was tight: I called you four times and was about to send a colleague to your house looking for someone.God damn it, why don't you answer your phone? It's not like Sam at all, he's the gentlest guy I know.I was at the shooting range, I said, the phone is in the closet, what the hell happened? Feel sorry!I didn't know you were sorry, he swallowed harshly again, I was called to take a case. My heart hit hard in the ribs.Sam was a homicide detective, and I knew I'd better sit down, but I couldn't bend my knees, so I leaned against the cabinet. who is it?I asked. What?No god, no, you're mistaken I mean, not someone we know.At least I don't think so!listen, can you come over here? My breathing is back to normal.Sam, I said, what the hell happened? That is, can you just come here?We're in Wicklaw, outside of Glensky, you know where, right?First follow the signs to Glensky, go straight south after passing through the village, about one kilometer, there will be a small road on the right hand side and you will see the blockade, we will meet there. The colleagues on the patrol team became curious.I'm on duty in an hour, I say, but it's almost an hour when I drive there. I will call and tell the domestic violence unit that we need your support. No, I'm not in Homicide anymore, Sam.If it's a murder, it's none of my business. There was another man's voice on the other end of the phone, slow but decisive, it was hard not to pay attention.The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't remember who it was.you wait a minute.Sam said. I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder, and start firing.If the deceased was not someone Sam and I knew, it must be a serious case, very serious, to make him talk like this.There are homicides in Ireland, but they are generally innocent, even now.It's either a drug lord's conflagration or a thief's failure, or a murder case: killing his wife and husband.Some people also call it domestic violence SARS, depending on who you ask. There is a county Limerick in the southwest of Ireland, where family relations are very strange, and couples often turn against each other.They have contributed a lot to the murders and injuries in Ireland over the decades.We are not here in other countries where there are some supernatural horrors, such as serial killers and drag abuse, or corpses found in basements piled up like fallen leaves.But I think it will be sooner or later, because in the past ten years, Dublin has changed more quickly than our minds can handle.The economic miracle that made us the Celtic Tigers of Europe, too many people owning helicopters, too many people huddled like cockroaches in flats, too many people huddled in offices complaining, suffering for the weekend and doing it all over again.Such a burden breaks us to pieces.Before I left the major crimes unit, I was already aware of the pressure, feeling madness singing in the air, the city crawling and convulsing, like a vicious dog about to go into rabies.Sooner or later someone will commit a horrific crime, sooner or later. There is no criminal profiling expert in the bureau, but the colleagues in the crime team are used to looking for me.Most of them have never been to college, and knowing that I have been in the psychology department for three years, they all admire me too much.They ask me for help, and I don't think it hurts.I have read many textbooks and statistics in my spare time, hoping to live up to expectations.Sam would come to me if he needed to, because his police instincts eventually took precedence over my protective instincts, especially when he came to the scene of a murder and found that the circumstances were serious. Wait a moment.said the red-haired colleague.He has already cut off the love mode, and sat up straight on the bench. You were in the crime team before?That's why I don't want to get too close to people.I've heard that tone of voice too many times in the past few months, that eager to inquire. Once upon a time.After I finished speaking, I gave him the sweetest smile, and put on a look that didn't ask any more questions. The red-haired man's curiosity and lust are fighting each other, but he clearly knows that the latter's chances of success are slim, because curiosity has the upper hand after all.You're the detective in charge, right?As he said that, he walked past several cabinets and approached me. It was the case of the little girl. What's the inside story? The rumors are true.I told him.On the other end of the phone, Sam lowered his voice and was arguing with someone, speaking angrily, but was interrupted by the other party's slowness.If the redhead would shut up, for a second, I bet I'd be able to hear who Sam was talking to. I heard that your partner's skull is broken, and he is a suspect.The red-haired man said, trying to jog my memory. How would I know.As I answered, I tried to free myself from the bulletproof vest and keep the phone from slipping.I just want to say to the red-haired man, why don't you do such a creative thing by yourself.But the mental state and love life of my ex-partner was not my problem, not anymore. Sam came back, his tone more tense and flustered.Can you come here wearing sunglasses, a hat, or a hood or something? My bulletproof vest was half off and stuck on my head.What are you doing? Please, Kathy.Sam said he sounded like he was about to break down, please! I ride a motorcycle, which is not cool in a city like Dublin, let alone a crooked vintage Vespa.But it's not without its benefits. In a traffic jam, the locomotive can go four times as fast as an RV, and it can stop anywhere.And it also makes it easy for me to see a person clearly. If anyone sees Vespa showing contemptuous eyes, it will definitely be difficult to become my friend.As soon as I rode out of the city, the weather became perfect for cycling.It had only rained the night before, and the rain and snow slapped the windows, but it all cleared up by dawn, and the sky was so blue that it felt like spring had almost come to the earth.In the past few years, as long as I encountered such a morning, I would ride to the suburbs, press the accelerator hard, and sing loudly against the wind. Glensky is almost isolated in the hilly County Wicklaw on the outskirts of Dublin.I've lived in Wicklaw for most of my life, and I've never been near that village, except for that strange signpost.And it really is such a place: scattered old houses, surrounded by a church that meets once a month, a bar, and a grocery store that sells everything. The younger generation looking for a cheap home in Dublin's suburbs didn't find it here either. At 8 o'clock on Thursday morning, the main street (regardless of the definition of Yamato Street) was empty, as beautiful as a picture postcard, only an old woman pulled a vegetable basket, passing in front of the broken granite stone, and several sugar-brown cottages meandered. After that, the distant mountains are lush and green, overlooking everything indifferently.I can imagine someone dying here, but it would be a farmer, killed fighting over a border that has been unresolved for generations; or a wife, killed by a husband who drank and became violent with cabin fever; He lived with and endured the murder of his brother for forty years.In short, some deep-rooted mundane crimes, as old as Ireland, will definitely not make a detective as experienced as Sam incoherent. The voice I heard on the other end of the phone made me uncomfortable.As far as I know, Sam is the only detective without a partner. He likes to go it alone, and when he encounters a case, he cooperates with a new team. Sometimes he assists the local police as an expert, and sometimes supports the detective who has a big case colleague.Sam gets along with everyone and is the best candidate. I wonder which of my former colleagues he is supporting this time. Out of Grunsky, the narrow road winds its way up among dazzling gorse bushes.I saw that the field was getting smaller and smaller, and there were more and more stones, and two men stood on the top of the mountain.The blond-haired Sam stood muscular, feet spread apart, hands in coat pockets; another stood a few paces away, bowing his head up against the strong wind.The sun was low, and the shadows drew Sam and the strange man into stately giants.Floating clouds passed by, and the figures of the two were so bright that it was hard to gaze at them, like messengers who stepped down from the sun palace and came along the shining road.Behind them, the blue and white blockade billowed in the wind like a cane whip. I waved to Sam, and Sam raised his hand, and the head of the man next to him flicked back like a blink of an eye, but I already knew who it was. fuck it!Before I stepped off the Vespa, I couldn't help blurting out, it's Frank, where did you come from? Frank, put your arms around me and lift me off the ground.Four years and he still hasn't changed a bit, dare I say he's still wearing that tattered leather jacket.Casey, he said: world's best fake student, how are you?How did you go to the domestic violence team? They wanted me to save the world, so they gave me armor and a lightsaber.Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Sam, who was frowning in bewilderment.I rarely talked about undercover, and I forgot to mention Frank to him.But when I turned to look at him, I realized he looked terrible, with pale lips and wide eyes.My heart suddenly tightened: this is not a good omen. How are you?I asked him as I took off my hard hat. very good!Sam said.He tried to smile at me, but the smile was stiffly cocked to one side. Oh, oh, Frank said with a stern face, grabbed me with both hands, looked up and down with his eyes, look at you, has the police detective costume changed to this look these days?The last time he saw me, I was still wearing field pants and a top that said KATY FUN HOUSE NEED YOU. Laugh if you want, Frank, I said to him: I've updated my equipment at least once or twice in the past few years. Wrong, wrong, I was very impressed, it really looks good.He said he wanted me to spin around, but I shook his hand away.Just to be clear, I don't dress like former First Lady Hillary Clinton at all.I was wearing work clothes, black trousers and a white shirt.I don't like this kind of clothes, but when I transferred to the domestic violence team, the boss has always emphasized the need to create a professional image to build public confidence. Obviously, T-shirts and jeans can't do this, and I don't bother to rebound.Did you bring sunglasses and a hat or something?Frank asked: It would look great with your current outfit. Did you send me all the way here just to discuss my dressing taste?I asked.I found the red flat hat I used to wear in my schoolbag, took it out and waved at him. No, we'll talk about the clothing part later.Here, take it!As Frank spoke, he took out sunglasses from his pocket and handed them to me.This kind of reflective lens, in 1985 the American TV series "Miami Vice" actor Tang.Style worn by Johnson & Johnson. If you want me to wear such a stupid thing on my face, I stare at the sunglasses and say: better give me a good fucking reason. Don't worry about it.You can always wear a hard hat if you don't like it.Frank waited.I shrugged and put those stupid sunglasses on.The excitement of seeing him started to wear off, and my back began to tense again.Sam looked sick and lazy. Frank was in charge of the case and refused to let me see the murder scene, saying that it was very likely that the undercover was killed. Sure enough, it still looks good.After Frank finished speaking, he pulled up the tape and let me bend over.That process is really familiar, I have done the same brisk movement no less than a thousand times, it made me feel like going home in an instant.Reflexively, I slid the gun back to my waist, turned to look at my partner as if this were my case, and then snapped back to reality. Here's what happened, Sam said: A villager named Dole passed by here at around 6:15 this morning, walking his dog.He unleashed the chain and let the dog run across the field.There was a deserted hut not far from the road, and the dog ran into it but didn't come out, so Duer had to walk over, only to find that the dog was smelling a woman's body.He immediately grabbed the dog, left the house and called the police. I'm slightly relieved that I don't recall any policewomen going undercover.Then why am I here?I asked: And you guy, when did you transfer to the serious crime unit, why didn't anyone tell me? You'll know right away, Frank said.I followed him down the path, all I could see was the back of his head.Really, you'll know right away. I looked back at Sam.Don't worry, he said softly.His face returned to color, and it appeared to be spotted and slightly shiny.You will be fine. The path winds up and is too narrow to walk side by side.The ground is muddy, and hawthorn clusters cover the road on both sides.Walking to the opening of the bushes, I saw lush grass, flocks of sheep dotted like stars, and lambs bleating and screaming in the distance.The air is cold and stagnant, as if you can taste it when you open your mouth.The rising sun was slender and golden through the hawthorns, and I wanted to leave Sam and Frank and just walk over the ridge and go on, leaving them alone to face the bloody atrocities waiting to be examined in the morning light.go from here.Frank said. The bushes receded, and in front of me was a crumbling stone wall surrounding a field overgrown with weeds.The hut is about 30 to 40 meters away from the path, and it is a farmhouse left over from the time of the Great Famine.Such houses are still common in Ireland, and were left unoccupied after the famine and emigration of the nineteenth century.I took one look at the house, more sure that I just wanted to get away from what I was about to witness.It should be very lively here, giving people the feeling of being patient and focused. The police officers looked down at the grass. The forensics team was wearing a one-piece white robe, busy with cameras, rulers, and fingerprint samplers. The funeral director carried out the stretcher, but I only saw two people. A police officer stood on both sides of the door, tiptoeing to and fro, with a dazed expression, and two thrushes were jumping angrily on the eaves, chirping and cursing. What about people?I said. I asked Sam, but Frank replied: Cooper has come and gone, and Cooper is the government's chief medical examiner.I think he should take a look at the deceased as soon as possible to determine the time of death.The forensics department can wait, anyway, the physical evidence will not run away. Jesus, I said: What if we step on it?Sam, have you ever done a double murder case? Frank raised his eyebrows, and there was a corpse? you.When the forensics department comes, you will be dead.竟然讓六個人在現場走來走去，不等他們先取樣蒐證？他們絕對會把你殺了。 那也值得，法蘭克一腿跨過石牆，開心說道：這個案子我想保密一陣子，要是讓鑑識科的傢伙到這裡爬來爬去，事情就難辦了，他們很容易引人注意。 不對，大大的不對！案子不是法蘭克負責，是山姆，應該由他決定物證如何處理，什麼時候該找誰來。我不曉得小屋裡究竟是怎麼了，竟然讓山姆無法承受，被法蘭克插手接管，而且立刻積極調度，照他心裡不知哪來的計畫辦事。我想抓住山姆的眼神，但他只是越過石牆，不看我和法蘭克兩人。 妳穿那樣可以翻牆嗎？法蘭克體貼問道：還是需要幫忙？我朝他做了個鬼臉，接著一躍跳進田地，感覺潮濕的野草與蒲公英貼上我的腳踝。 小屋原本有兩個房間，很久以前。一間看來近似完整，連屋頂都幾乎沒有缺損，一間卻只剩斷窗殘壁，裸裎向天，裂隙長滿旋花類植物、青苔和蔓生的小藍花。有人在門口旁邊噴了夏妞兩個字，不是很有美感，但這房子太不方便了，不適合廝混，就連喜歡私下亂搞的青少年也不想來，任由它在時光中緩緩凋敗。 這位是凱西警探，法蘭克說：這兩位是拉索文分局的伯恩警佐和道帝警佐，葛倫斯凱是他們的轄區。 罪過、罪過。伯恩說，語氣聽起來很認真。他年紀五十出頭，略微駝背，水藍色眼睛，身上飄著濕制服和癟三的味道。 道帝很年輕，一雙倒楣樣的耳朵，身材瘦得難看。我朝他伸出手，他竟然像卡通人物一樣驚訝得連看我兩眼，我感覺似乎聽見他眼球啵的一聲轉回原位。天曉得他聽過關於我的什麼傳言小道消息在警察圈子傳得比賓果俱樂部還要快但我當時沒空在意這點。我只是笑著瞪他一眼，只見他嘟囔一聲就急急鬆開我的手，彷彿被火燙到。 我們想讓凱西警探看一下屍體。法蘭克說。 我想也是，好的。伯恩看著我說。我不曉得他是不是在開玩笑，但我想他沒那個力氣。道帝則在一旁緊張地竊笑。 Are you ready?山姆輕聲問我。 搞得這麼懸疑，我都快被好奇心殺死了！我說，語氣比我想的還要粗魯。但法蘭克這時已經鑽進小屋，撥開懸垂下來擋在門口和裡面房間的荊棘。 Lady first.法蘭克說著伸手一揮。我摘下騷包墨鏡插在襯衫的前襟，深呼吸一口氣，接著踏進屋裡。 房間很小，照理說應該平靜而哀戚。陽光斜斜地穿過屋頂裂口，擠過爬滿窗子的樹枝，有如粼粼波光。住戶留下的壁爐沉寂了一個世紀，堆滿從煙囪落下的鳥巢。鐵鉤雖然生鏽，依然等待有人掛上鍋爐。不遠處有森鳩自得鳴唱。 然而，有經驗的人都曉得，屍體會改變一切。那巨大的沉默與有如黑洞的空無，時間靜止，分子凝結在不動的屍體周圍，死者得知生命最終之謎，卻無法對人訴說。一般死者只是屋裡的一件東西，但被殺害的死者不同，他們並不孤單。沉默有如震耳欲聾的吶喊，空氣中佈滿斑紋與手印，屍體烙著冒煙的標記，是方才緊抓死者不放的人，是兇手。 不過，那天在現場最先引起我注意的，卻是兇手幾乎沒有留下任何痕跡。我之前已經作好準備，等著目睹難以想像的場景。或許是四肢攤開的裸裎軀體、難以數算的兇殘傷痕或四散飛濺的屍塊。但這女孩卻像算好位置，小心翼翼地躺在地上，選定時間、地點再緩緩吐出最後一口氣，沒有藉助任何外力。她仰頭躺在壁爐前的陰影下，姿態端正，雙腳併攏，兩手收在身側。她穿著深藍雙排釦大衣，釦子解開，露出靛藍牛仔褲沒有褪下，拉鍊完好運動鞋和藍色上衣，胸前是深色的紮染星星，唯一不尋常的只有她緊握的雙拳。法蘭克和山姆走到我身旁，我困惑地看了法蘭克一眼這有什麼？但他只是望著我，表情莫測高深。 女孩身高中等，體格和我近似，結實得像個男孩。她的臉避開我們，面向牆壁。我就著微弱的光線，只見到她短黑的鬈髮和一道白皙：是她顴骨突起的弧線，連結到小小的下巴。看好囉！法蘭克說著打開小手電筒，強光照亮女孩的臉，形成清楚的光暈。 我遲疑半晌山姆騙我？因為我認得她，我看過這張臉，看過上百萬次。接著我往前一步，定睛一瞧，世界倏地靜默凝結，黑暗從角落蜂擁而至，唯有女孩的臉龐閃閃發亮。是我，是我的臉。微斜的鼻梁、修長的眉毛，那張臉龐上的一曲一彎寫得清清楚楚：是我，雙唇發紫、靜止不動、眼窩陰影有如瘀青的我。我感覺不到自己的手腳和呼吸，我感覺自己彷彿飄到空中碎成片片，隨風湮滅。 妳認識她嗎？法蘭克說，聲音彷彿來自他處，親戚之類的？ 我感覺雙眼如盲，無法接收女孩的影像。她不可能存在，應該是我發燒的幻覺，自然法則的崩潰瓦解。我意識到自己雙腳僵直，一手朝槍伸了過去，全身肌肉緊繃，準備和眼前死去的女孩決一死戰。do not know.I said.感覺不是我的聲音，來自我以外的地方，從來沒見過她。 妳是養女嗎？ 山姆猛然轉頭，滿臉驚詫，但我喜歡法蘭克的直接，立刻將我捏醒。no.我說，但心裡確實一震，強烈猶豫了片刻。然而，我看過相片，母親疲憊地躺在醫院病床上，面帶微笑，懷中抱著剛剛降臨世間的我。不是養女。 妳像哪一邊？ What?我花了一秒鐘才意會過來。我的目光無法從女孩身上離開，必須強迫自己眨眼。難怪剛才怪耳男道帝會忍不住瞄我一眼。不會，像我媽。我爸不是經常出門的人，而且不可能。 法蘭克聲聳肩說：只是問問。 聽說世界上所有人，都可以找到和自己長得一模一樣的人。山姆說，聲音就在我的身旁。他離我太近了，我一時沒有想到他是想提防意外，準備抱住我。 我不是會昏倒的人，我只是猛力一咬嘴唇，用劇痛讓自己腦袋清醒。她身上沒有證件之類的東西嗎？ 他們兩人頓了一下，我立刻恍然大悟。可惡，我暗自咒罵，肚子又像被人捶了一拳：這女孩盜用身分。我不曉得她是怎麼辦到的，但只要看過我，加上生花妙筆的打扮，我猜這女孩一定能輕鬆拿著我的護照，辦信用卡買高級轎車。 她身上有學生證，法蘭克說：外套左口袋有鑰匙，右口袋是美格光手電筒，皮夾在牛仔褲右前口袋，十二鎊紙鈔和零錢，還有一張提款卡、兩張舊收據和這玩意。他從門邊一堆東西翻出一只乾淨的證物袋，啪的一聲放到我手上。 袋子裡是三一學院學生證，光滑明亮的電子卡，不是我們以前用的護貝紙。相片中的女孩看起來比角落那張蒼白凹陷的臉龐年輕十歲，用我的笑容對我微笑，頭上的條紋貝克小帽歪向一邊。我的心臟突然狂跳不止：我沒有這種條紋帽子，對吧，我是什麼時候我將學生證對著陽光，假裝閱讀證件上的小字，讓自己背對其他人。蕾西．麥迪森。 暈眩幾秒之後，我懂了。是我和法蘭克造成的，是我們一骨一肉讓蕾西從無到有地降臨世間，讓她擁有臉龐和肉身行走了幾個月。但當我們將她拋棄，她卻無法滿足，於是花了四年時間救亡圖存，終於從黑土與夜風之中掙脫而出，隨即呼喚我們來到這裡，讓我們看看自己做了什麼。 搞什麼鬼！呼吸順暢之後，我說。 員警接到案子，將她的名字輸入電腦，法蘭克收回證物袋說：螢幕立刻出現提示訊號，此人發生任何狀況，務必即刻回報法蘭克警官。我一直沒有把蕾西從系統裡消除，心想或許哪一天還用得著她，或早或晚，誰曉得。 是啦！我說：果然。我緊盯著屍體，不停告訴自己：這不是假人，是活生生死掉的女孩，這是什麼矛盾的講法等等。山姆，我說：有什麼線索？ 山姆瞥了我一眼，想知道狀況。他發現我沒有昏倒或尖叫的傾向，也不會做出他心裡所想的舉動，便點了點頭，開始稍微恢復正常。白人女性，他說：二十五歲到三十出頭，胸口一刀斃命。庫柏說死亡時間大約是午夜，誤差約前後一小時，至於其他就不確定了，例如是否受到重擊、周圍溫度變化、死前身體狀況之類的，他一概回答不曉得。 局裡的人都和庫柏處不好，我是少數的例外，但我很慶幸沒遇到他。小屋裡感覺很擠，充滿了人的動作與腳步聲，而且大家都在看我。在這裡被刺的？I asked. 山姆搖頭說：很難說，得等鑑識科蒐證化驗之後才曉得。不過，昨晚那場大雨沖走許多物證小路不可能找到腳印或血跡，不可能。但要我猜的話，我會說這裡不是第一現場，因為死者遇刺之後還站了一陣子。這裡，你們看到沒有？血直直往下流到她的牛仔褲管，法蘭克順勢將手電筒往下照。而且死者兩邊膝蓋都沾了泥巴，一邊還破洞，感覺應該是奔跑後曾跌倒過。 找地方躲吧。我話剛說完，女孩奔跑的影像便一湧而上，有如湮滅於記憶中的夢魘場景：小徑蜿蜒伸向黑暗，女孩落荒而逃，雙腳無可避免地踩到碎石滑倒，耳中只聽見自己的猛烈喘息。我感覺法蘭克小心翼翼後退一步，一言不發地緊盯著我。 有可能，山姆說：說不定兇手過來追她，也或許只是她這麼想。死者的腳印或許從兇手家門口一路過來，但我們不可能知道，因為早就消失了。 我的雙手蠢蠢欲動地想找事情來做，撥頭髮或摀嘴巴都好。我將手收進口袋，讓它們保持安分。所以她躲到這裡，結果不省人事。 也不是，我想她死在別處，山姆說著撥開荊棘，頭朝外面房間角落一撇。我們在那裡發現一大攤疑似血跡，總量多少不曉得，要看鑑識科有沒有辦法查出來。不過要是過了一個晚上還留下這麼多血，我敢說之前一定更多。死者或許坐靠在那面牆，因為血漬集中在上衣胸前、腿間和牛仔褲臀部。如果她是躺著，應該流向身體兩側，看到了嗎？ 山姆指著女孩上衣，我頓時恍然大悟，那並不是紮染的布料。死者扭緊上衣壓住傷口，想要止血。 大雨滂沱中，女孩縮在角落，溫熱的鮮血汩汩流過手指之間。那她是怎麼到這裡來的？I asked. 我們的小兇手最後還是追了上來，法蘭克說：或是其他人，反正就是這樣。 說完他彎下腰去，拎著女孩的鞋帶將她的一隻腳抬了起來。我頓時寒毛一豎：法蘭克竟然碰她。 法蘭克側著手電筒，照向女孩鞋跟，只見棕色刮痕處處，嵌滿泥沙。女孩在死亡之後被人拖動過，因為屍體底下沒有血灘。換句話說，死者被拖來這裡的時候，已經不再流血了。發現她的傢伙發誓沒有動過屍體，我相信他沒有動。他看起來就像要吐了，不可能靠得太近。總而言之，女孩死後不久就被拖到這裡，庫柏說屍體還沒僵硬，也沒有二重瘀青，死者在雨中也沒有逗留太多時間，因為身上幾乎沒濕。要是整晚待在室外，肯定成了落湯雞。 我慢慢察覺自己剛才以為是陰影與水漬的塊斑，其實都是血，感覺就像眼睛總算適應微光一般。血跡到處都是，弄得地上斑斑點點，浸濕女孩的長褲，乾涸在她手上的則有如傷痂，直到手腕。我不想看她的臉，不想看任何人的臉。我盯著女孩的上衣，讓雙眼失焦，深色星星浮動模糊。有腳印嗎？ 零，法蘭克說：連死者的都沒有。妳想地上這麼多土，怎麼可能？不過就像山姆之前說的，下雨。我們在另一個房間只找到一狗票爛泥，還有報警的傢伙和小狗的腳印所以我才不介意帶妳走過來，這是原因之一。小路也好不到哪裡，至於這裡他將手電筒指向地板邊緣，一路照了四個角落。沙土全都被人清過掃過，平平坦坦地不留痕跡。我們到的時候，這裡就像這樣。妳在屍體周圍看到的腳印是我和山姆、庫柏，還有兩名員警留下的。把死者搬來這裡的傢伙，離開之前沒忘了將四周整理乾淨。田地中央有一根斷掉的荊豆枝，可能是門邊那一大叢荊豆落下來的。我猜兇手可能用它把地面清過，之後再離開。我們得看鑑識科有沒有辦法從上面取得血跡或指紋。不但沒有腳印 法蘭克說著遞給我另一只證物袋，看出哪裡不對了嗎？ 袋子裡是個白色假皮的皮夾，用銀線繡了蝴蝶，表面有幾抹很淡的血跡。太乾淨了，我回答：你說皮夾放在死者牛仔褲的前口袋，她腿間全都是血，皮夾也該血跡斑斑才對。 賓果！她的口袋被血浸透，這會兒都發硬了，但皮夾居然滴血未沾？手電筒和鑰匙也一樣，除了幾點污漬，完全看不到血跡。看來我們的小兇手搜過死者口袋，將東西抹乾淨再放回去。我們還是會將所有物品拿給鑑識科取樣，看能不能找到留存夠久的跡證，但我可不認為會抓出什麼有用的線索。這人顯然非常、非常謹慎。 有性侵的跡象嗎？I asked.山姆縮了一下，但我早就沒事了。 庫柏要等驗屍之後才敢確定，但起碼初步檢視看不出來。我們要是走運，或許能在女孩身上找到異體血，很多刺人於死的兇手都會傷到自己。不過說老實話，我是不會把希望都寄託在DNA上。 我一開始就猜是不留痕跡的隱形罪犯，看來我的直覺與事實相去不遠。只要在重案組待過幾個月，你大老遠就能嗅出一件案子是不是那種案子。我用僅存的一點理智提醒自己，這件事不管案情如何，都與我無關。很好，我說：那你們到底發現什麼？除了她唸三一學院和用假名四處闖蕩之外，還有什麼？ 伯恩說死者是本地人，山姆說：住在山楂林屋，離這裡八百公尺左右，和幾名學生一起，他只知道這些。我還沒跟也住那間屋子的人談過，因為他比了比法蘭克。 因為我拜託他等一等，法蘭克沉著地說：我有個小計畫，想在調查正式展開之前由你們兩個先執行，他眉毛一挑，比著門外的兩名員警：也許我們應該出去轉一轉再回來。 有道理，我說。女孩的屍體讓小屋裡的空氣變得很怪，嘶嘶作響，有如電視切到靜音時的低鳴，很難專心思考。在一個房裡待太久，宇宙可能變成反物質。我將證物袋交還法蘭克，手在褲管側邊抹了幾下。 走出門口之前，我回頭再看了女孩一眼。法蘭克已經關掉手電筒，但我撥開荊棘，春日朝陽頓時湧入屋內。在我影子遮蔽光線前的那一瞬間，只見女孩耀眼奪目，從黑暗中驀然浮現。她的下巴低垂，一手握拳、喉間拱起，渾身浴血絢爛，冷酷無情，有如我備受折磨的遊魂。 我之後再也沒有見過她。我當時並不曉得（因為我心有旁騖），現在想來更覺得不可思議，小屋裡的那十分鐘是我和女孩唯一共處過的時間，但卻深深刻在我生命之中，形成永恆的烙痕。 兩名員警還在原地，有如兩袋沙包垂頭喪氣。伯恩凝視不遠處，眼神彷彿緊張性精神分裂症患者，道帝舉起手指左右觀察，讓我以為他在摳鼻子。 好了，伯恩總算回過神來，察覺我們再度出現便說：我們得走人，她就交給你們了。 有些地方員警很了不起，奔波幾公里找所有居民抽絲剝繭，列出幾條可疑動機，甚至端上頭號嫌犯給你，有些員警卻只想趕快推掉燙手山芋，回去玩釣魚。眼前的這兩位顯然屬於後者。 我們還需要兩位再待一下，山姆說，我覺得是好現象。法蘭克一直將案子抓在自己手裡，讓我很緊張。鑑識人員或許會要兩位協助蒐證，我也要麻煩兩位儘可能提供地方上的線索。 她不是這裡人，絕對的，道帝手指伸到褲子側邊抹了抹，再度盯著我看：他們住在上頭的山楂林屋，是外來客，跟葛倫斯凱一點關係也沒有。 走狗運的傢伙。伯恩喃喃自語，聲音停在胸腔。 但她確實住在這裡，山姆耐心解釋：也死在這裡，表示我們必須詳細搜查這個地方。你們或許應該幫我們一點忙，既然你們是地頭蛇。 伯恩的腦袋更往肩膀沉。這裡的傢伙全都腦袋有病，他憾恨地說：病到底了，你們知道這點就夠了。 我有幾個死黨也是腦袋有病，法蘭克開心說道：就當作挑戰吧。說完便朝他們揮揮手，朝田地上坡走去，雙腳踩著濕漉漉的野草，窸窣出聲。 我和山姆跟了上去，我雖然沒有回頭，卻曉得山姆面帶愁容，眉間微皺。只是我實在沒有力氣安撫他，讓他放心。我一離開小屋，心裡只剩下單純而強烈的熊熊怒火。那是我的臉龐、我的名字。感覺就像某天傍晚回到家中，發現一個女的正在你的廚房裡優閒地煮飯，身上是你最舒服的牛仔褲，邊聽邊哼你最喜歡的音樂。我氣得呼吸困難，想起學生證上的相片，只想一拳將自己的微笑從那女孩的臉上捶走。 那個，我們在坡頂追上法蘭克，我說：這一趟真好玩，我可以回去值勤了嗎？ 看來家暴組一定比我想得有趣多了，法蘭克裝出詫異的樣子說：既然妳這麼趕，我們就不留妳了。墨鏡。 我將墨鏡物歸原主。除非這女孩是家暴受害人，但我完全看不出來，否則和我一點屁蛋關係也沒有。你們大老遠把我拖來這裡，到底是為什麼？ 嘿，因為我們很想妳啊，寶貝。所以隨便找個理由，法蘭克對我咧嘴微笑，我狠狠回瞪他一眼。還有妳真的覺得她和妳一點屁蛋關係都沒有？話別說得太早，等我們開始查證她的身分，看妳的親朋好友會不會大驚失色，全都打電話來說死掉的那個人是妳。 我的怒氣頓時消失，只在胃裡殘留難堪的空虛。法蘭克這混帳小子，他說得沒錯。只要女孩的相片出現在報上，呼籲民眾指認，所有認為我是蕾西、她是蕾西和我是我的人都會想知道死者是誰，還有如果我們都不是蕾西，那又是誰？屆時誰是誰的問題肯定就像鏡子屋裡的倒影，沒完沒了。說出來各位可能不信，但我直到那一刻才恍然明白：事情絕不可能這麼簡單，光靠一句我不認識她，也不想認識，謝謝兩位浪費我一早上的時間，咱們改天見就能解決。 山姆，我說：這件事你可不可以先壓個一、兩天，不要讓女孩的相片上報？讓我有時間通知一些人。我完全不曉得該如何開口：是這樣的，露易莎姑姑，我們發現一名女孩死了，她 真巧，法蘭克說：沒想到妳會這麼說，因為我也是這麼打算的。田地角落凌亂地堆了幾塊爬滿青苔的礫岩，法蘭克朝後一跳坐上岩石，一隻腳前後搖晃。 法蘭克目光炯炯，我見過這樣的眼神。只要這傢伙眼睛一亮，就表示他又準備說出什麼驚人之語，而且還會故意輕描淡寫。怎樣，法蘭克？I said. 我說，法蘭克舒舒服服地靠著岩石，雙手枕在頭下，開口說道：這不是千載難逢的機會嗎？浪費實在太可惜了。 你是說我們？山姆說。 你是說我們？I said. of course?拜託，當然是，法蘭克嘴角又浮現大膽的微笑。我們難得有機會，他語氣不疾不徐：可以從命案裡頭辦案，有機會派出經驗豐富的臥底警官走進被害人的生命。 我和山姆盯著他看。 你們有想過會發生這種事嗎？真是帥呆了，小凱，簡直太完美了。 完美個頭啦！我說：你到底想幹嘛，老法？ 法蘭克兩手一攤，彷彿事情再明顯不過。聽著，妳之前當過蕾西，對吧？妳現在可以再當一次，妳可以不是，等一下，妳先聽我說完假裝她沒有死，只是受傷，對吧？妳可以直接走進她的生活，替她活下去。 天哪，我說：難怪你不找鑑識科來，也不請殯葬人員。難怪你要我打扮成這副蠢樣，免得被人發現你已經找了替身？我脫下帽子塞回書包。就算法蘭克是個天才，也不可能幾秒之內想出這招，他一定早計畫好了，肯定剛到現場不久，腦袋裡就有了這個點子。 妳可以掌握警方掌握不到的線索，接近死者親近的人，揪出嫌犯 你要凱西當誘餌。山姆說，語氣太過沉穩了點。 我要她當警探，兄弟，法蘭克說：我上回查過檔案，她就是。 你要放凱西出去，讓那傢伙現身把事情搞定，這就是誘餌。 so what?臥底本來就是誘餌，再說我又沒有要她做我自己做不到的事，要不是因為 不行，山姆說：絕對不行！ 法蘭克眉毛一挑：你是誰？她媽啊？ 我是承辦警探，我說不行就是不行。 朋友，我覺得你最好多考慮個十秒鐘，然後再 我覺得自己好像消失了。Hello?I said. 他們轉頭看我。Feel sorry.山姆說，語氣有些難為情，又有些倨傲。 Hi!法蘭克朝我咧嘴微笑。 法蘭克，我說：我這輩子還沒聽過這麼白癡的點子，我看你腦袋燒壞了，根本是在自掘墳墓。我看你 哪裡白癡了？法蘭克問，語氣微微受傷。 please!我雙手抱頭搔了一圈，不曉得該從何說起。山丘、田野、狀況外的員警和女孩喪命的小屋，這可不是什麼亂七八糟的惡夢。好吧，我話先說在前頭，當替身我絕對不幹，我從來沒聽過這種事。 可是妙就妙在這一點啊！法蘭克解釋道。 法蘭克，頂替真人過日子，就算只有半小時，也是非同小可，得清楚什麼該做，什麼不該做，何況是一個完全的外人。你不能因為我長得有一點像她，就要我跳進女孩的生活 有一點像？ 你知道她眼眸是什麼顏色嗎？萬一她眼睛是藍的，或者 我還沒那麼差吧，寶貝，她眼眸是棕色的。 那要是她會設計電腦程式或打網球呢？甚至是左撇子呢？不可能的，我只要一小時就會完蛋了。 法蘭克從夾克口袋掏出壓扁的煙盒，撈了一根煙，兩眼再度閃閃發亮。他這人就是喜歡挑戰。我對妳很有信心。要不要來一根？ don't want.我說，雖然心裡很想。我站不住，不停在長草地上前後左右移動。這女孩我連喜歡都談不上，我很想這麼說，只是一點意義也沒有。 法蘭克聳聳肩膀，將煙點燃。可不可能由我來傷腦筋就好。也許真的不行，這點我不否認，但等做下去就會知道了。anything else? 山姆撇過頭去，雙手深插口袋，讓我自己處理。還有，我說：這麼做也有道德層面的問題。女孩一定有家人和朋友，你打算對他們說女孩活得好好的，只不過需要縫個幾針，其實她正躺在停屍間，讓庫柏開膛剖腹？拜託，法蘭克。 她生前可是在用假名過日子呢，小凱，法蘭克開始講道理