Chapter 3 Chapter two

In the next three days, I didn't actually stay at home and watch bad shows like I told Frank.I can't sit still, and if I'm restless, I need to move even more.So I (just for the thrill) started tidying up the house.I've scrubbed, vacuumed and waxed every inch of the house, down to the skirting boards and the insides of pots. I removed the curtains, washed them in the bathtub, hung them in the fire escape to dry, hung the bedding on the window sill, and beat the dust with a spatula.If it wasn't for the lack of paint, I would have painted the walls.I really thought about cross-dressing and going to the hardware store dressed like an idiot, but I promised Frank, so I had to clean the back of the sink as compensation.

I also thought about Frank's words: I didn't expect you to act like Vesta, and I was transferred from the serious crimes team. Although the domestic violence team lacks challenges in comparison, it is really quiet.I know it's a bit strange to describe it as quiet, but here either A beats B, or there isn't, simple and simple.You just need to figure out if there is or is not, how to stop it from happening again.Domestic violence has always been crystal clear, and I needed something like this, straight to the point, because I was so tired of the high stakes, moral dilemmas, and complicated situations at the time.

Can't think of you, are you fooling me?My fancy suit is ironed and hanging by the closet door, waiting for me to put it on on Monday.But I just felt nauseous after watching it, and then I couldn't even look at it, so I threw the clothes into the closet and slammed the door. Of course, I still think about that girl.All the time, no matter what I do, I think of her in my heart.I feel that there must be some clue on the girl's face, a secret message written in code that only I can decipher, if I have enough smarts and time to discover it. If I were still in the serious crimes unit, I would definitely steal a photo of the scene or a copy of the girl's ID, and go home to take a closer look alone.If I asked Sam, he would help me, but I didn't ask.

Sometime during those three days, somewhere, Cooper would be doing the autopsy on the girl, and I can't let it go. I've never been in a situation where someone met someone like me.Dublin is full of creepy looking girls and I could have sworn they were all the same person or the same can of tan spray.As for me, though not beautiful, at least I am outstanding.My grandfather is French. It is very strange that the children born of French and Irish mixed blood just look different and stand out.I have no siblings, just uncles, aunts, and a slew of bubbly cousins, none of whom look like me.

My parents died when I was five years old.My mum was a singer-in-residence and my dad was a reporter, and one night in December that year my dad was driving her home from her show in Kilkenny.On the way, it was raining and the road was slippery. In addition, he might be speeding. The car turned over three times in a row and fell into the field head and foot.A farmer saw the light and went to check it, only to learn that there was a car accident. My father died the next day, and my mother died before reaching the ambulance.I always tell others early to save trouble in the future.The other party was either dumbfounded or sighed (you must miss them very much), and the more familiar they are with me, the more sad they should be.I never knew how to respond, because I was five years old and the accident was twenty-five years ago, so it was long gone for me, I guess.I also wish I remembered enough to actually miss my parents.But all I can remember is a vague recollection of a song my mother used to sing to me, though I never told anyone else about it.

I'm very lucky.Thousands of kids like me fell into the abyss, became adopted children, and went to nightmare vocational schools, but my parents entrusted me to my aunt in Wicklaw on the way to Kilkenny.I still remember the loud ringing of the phone that night, the hurried footsteps going up and down the stairs, anxious whispers in the corridor, the car starting, and then people coming and going, it felt like a few days had passed.Afterwards Aunt Louisa sat me down in the dark living room and said I was staying with her for a while longer because my father and mother were not coming back.

Aunt Louisa was much older than my father and had no children with Uncle Gerald.My uncle is a historian, and the couple often play bridge. I think they have not fully adjusted to the feeling of having an extra person in the family.They gave me the empty room, which, in addition to the high double bed, contained fragile trinkets and a birth chart of Venus, which was not suitable for children.When I got older and wanted to hang up my favorite posters, they couldn't help showing concern.But they raised me for twelve and a half years, sent me to school, learned gymnastics and music, and whenever I was around them, my aunt or uncle would pat me on the head, hastily but emotionally, and never interfered with me.So I was always careful not to let them know that I skipped school, climbed something I wasn't supposed to climb and fell, got probation and started smoking in return.

I had a very happy childhood, which made the people around me unbelievable.In the first few months after my parents passed away, I used to hide in the garden crying until I threw up, swearing at neighbor kids who wanted to befriend me.But children are very practical, and even if they are orphaned or meet a worse fate, they will still be alive and well.It only took me a while to realize that I couldn't bring my parents back, not to mention there were thousands of novel things waiting for me: Emma next door was sitting on the wall, and my new bicycle was shining red in the sun Liang, a few semi-wild kittens in the garden shed can’t sit still, always expecting me to wake up soon and go out to play with them.I discovered at a very young age that you can completely leave yourself behind and focus on remembering what you lost.

I replaced methadone painkillers with nostalgia, and healed pain with imagining everything I didn't have.It's less annoying, less noticeable, and less likely to drive you crazy.My new friend and I went to the store to buy karawali candy bars, deliberately saving half of them for my imaginary sister.I put the candy away in the closet and it melted and sticky on my shoes.I'll save her a place in the double bed, unless Emma or someone else comes over for the night.The nasty McIntyre who sat behind me at school put snot in my braids and my imaginary brother would go out and beat him up until I learned to beat him myself.In my mind, I imagine adults looking at us, three dark-haired heads standing in a row, and saying to us: Oh, my God, it's true that the three of them are brother and sister, but why do they look like they were carved out of the same mold?

I don't want emotion, not at all.What I want is someone who belongs to me, beyond doubt, undeniable, absolutely certain at a glance, clear proof that two people are bound to each other for the rest of their lives.The mother in the photo looks like me, but there is only her and no one else.I don't know if you can imagine that each of my friends at school had either a family nose or father's hair, or eyes exactly like their sister's.Even Belle, who, though adopted, looked like a cousin or cousin from her class. In the 80s, everyone in Ireland was a relative.In my sentimental girlhood, not having anyone who looked like me was like a mirror without a reflection to prove my existence.I could have come from anywhere, abandoned by aliens, surrogate by elves, a test-tube baby grown by the CIA.If one day they come and take me away, I have absolutely no grounds to stay.

If this mysterious girl had walked into the class back then, it would have made my life complete, but unfortunately it didn't.So I grew up and learned to be in the moment and not think about it anymore.But now, out of the blue, the perfect reflection is all around me, and I don't like it at all.I'm used to being alone without any bondage, but the girl is like handcuffs, wrapping around my wrist for no reason, and clasping it tightly to the bone. Also, I know how a girl picks on Lacey and becomes her.I don't like the fact that everything is clear in my mind, like broken glass, as if I did it myself.Maybe it's the bar counter of a crowded bar in the city, maybe it's a clothing store, the girl is choosing clothes, and suddenly a voice comes from behind: Lacey?Are you Lacey?God!haven't seen you for a long time!Next, just be careful, and it’s been a long time since you asked innocuous questions.What was I doing the last time I met you?I can't even remember myself and cleverly set out the details I should know.She's not stupid, the girl. Many murder cases turn into a battle of wits to the death and death, but this case is different.For the first time, I felt that my real opponent was not the suspect, but the dead.The girl showed no sign of weakness, and held the secret tightly in her hands until her knuckles turned white.She and I are equal in every way, and it is hard to distinguish between the two. At lunch time on Saturday, I was so restless that I couldn't help but climbed up to the counter, took down the file shoebox above the cabinet, dug out all the records and spread them out on the floor, looking for my birth certificate.Casey.Meadows, Gender: Female, Weight: 3005 grams, Fetal Type: Single. idiot!Talking to myself out loud, I climbed back onto the counter with my shoebox in my arms. Frank came to see me that afternoon.At that time, I was extremely upset. I lived in a small place, and all the things that could be cleared were cleared, so I was very happy to hear his voice through the walkie-talkie. How old is it now?He came upstairs, and I asked: Who is the president? Stop complaining, Frank put his arms around my neck and hugged me and said: This room is very big and comfortable. I think you are a killer. You are waiting for a target. You have been motionless for several days, and you can only pee in a bottle. And I'm sending supplies. With that, he handed me a Tesco plastic bag full of essentials, including chocolate biscuits, cigarettes, ground coffee and two bottles of wine.Really you, Frank, I said: know me so well.In fact, it was the same in the past. Frank remembered that I liked to smoke Lucky Strike Light cigarettes four years ago.It didn't reassure me much that he did it, but then again, he didn't mean it that way. Frank raised his eyebrows and said noncommittally: Is there a bottle opener? I was immediately alert.But I've always drank in moderation, and Frank must have known I couldn't be stupid enough to get drunk in front of him.I tossed him the corkscrew and started looking around for a glass. You've got a nice place, he said over a glass of wine: I was just worried that your apartment was going to be one of those nasty Barra yuppies, all chrome. Just on the policeman's salary?Recently, house prices in Dublin are close to New York, but at least New York is New York when you go out, there is nothing here.I live in a medium-sized studio apartment on the top floor of a converted Georgian building.The room retains the original cast-iron fireplace, enough room for a mattress, sofa, and all my books, a drunkenly slanted floor to one corner, a brood of owls in the ceiling, and a window overlooking Sandteches Beach.I like here. Two police salaries.You and our little Sam aren't going out together, are you? I sat on the mattress and handed the glass to Frank for a drink.It's only been two months, and it's not a serious crime. I thought you two had been dating for a long time.On Thursday, he felt protective of you.Is it true love? It's none of your business, I said to clink glasses with him, cheers.Well, what are you doing here? Frank looked hurt.I thought you might need company.I left you alone at home, you can't go anywhere, and the thought of it made me feel bad. I gave him a hard look, and Frank realized that this trick was useless, so he grinned at me and smiled. You are too smart, you know?I just don't want to see you just go out and buy something because you're hungry, bored, or crazy.Your chances of meeting a girl you know on the road are one in a thousand at most, but why take the risk? It makes sense to say so, but Frank has always liked the multi-headed cloth bait to distract you from taking the bait.I still don't want to go in muddy water, old Fa.I said. I understand, said Frank, seemingly dismissive.He picked up the wine and drank a swig to make himself more comfortable on the sofa.By the way, I talked to my superiors, the murder case is now jointly investigated by the undercover team and the serious crime team, but I think your boyfriend may have told you about it. He didn't.Sam sleeps by himself these two days and I get up at six, that's for sure, but there's no reason for you to get up at the same time as me.Or do you need me to accompany you?Can you do it alone?After I met him at the murder scene, we never met again.I bet everyone would be very happy.I said.In fact, everyone hates joint cases, because both parties will end up with testosterone rushes, turning into endless, boring and exaggerated emotional battles. Frank shrugged: They'll be fine.Want to hear what we're doing in tracking down the girl's identity? Of course I want to!I think like a drunkard who longs to be drunk and decides to drink, knowing that he is stupid.Just talk about it, I said: Anyway, you are here. pretty!Frank said, looking for cigarettes in the Tesco bag, listen, the girl showed up for the first time in February 2002, she got Lacey's birth certificate, went to the bank to open an account, and then with that face and two To obtain your previous student record at University College Dublin, you can apply for the PhD program in English Literature at Trinity College. Step by step.I said. That's right, step by step, very creative, and convincing.She is a natural master, even I feel inferior.She didn't file for unemployment, which is smart.She found work in a café in the city, worked full-time for the summer, and went to Trinity College at the beginning of October.Her dissertation is titled You'll Like It, Alien Voices: Identity, Concealment, and Truth, a study of women writers who write under aliases or avatars. Funny, I say: so she has a great sense of humor. Frank gave me a mocking look.We don't have to like her, baby, he said after a moment of silence: just find out who killed her. You are looking for it, not me.Is there any more? Frank tossed a cigarette in his mouth and found his lighter.So the girl went to Trinity College, befriended four graduate students from the same department, and associated almost exclusively with them.In September last year, one of the graduate students inherited Uncle's house, so all five of them moved in.The house was called Hawthorn House, and it was on the outskirts of Glensky Village, only more than 800 meters away from the place where her body was buried.On Wednesday night, the girl went out for a walk and never came back.All four graduate students were each other's alibi. You can just talk to me over the phone.I said. ah!Frank said and began to fumble in the jacket pocket, but this way I can't show you.Take it, the Fantastic Four, the girl's roommate.He took out the photo with one hand and spread it on the table. One of them was a snapshot, taken in winter, the sky was gray and the ground was covered with snow, and five people stood in front of the big Georgian house, their heads slightly pushed together, their hair blown to one side by the wind.Lacey stood in the middle, wrapped in the dark blue coat, smiling.I felt dizzy again: When am I?Frank stares at me like a hound and I put the photo down. The other photos are still images taken on videotape that appear to be because there are blurry afterimages around the moving people and were printed at the Criminal Unit, as the major crime unit prints will leave a streak in the upper right corner.Four full-body images and four enlarged head images were all taken in the same room, and Xiaohua's wallpaper was tattered.Two of the photos have a large fir tree in the background corner, without decorations, indicating that they were taken before Christmas. Daniel.In the horse area, Frank pointed to one of them and said: Don't call it Dan, let alone Danny, just call it Daniel.The house is his inheritance.Only son, later orphan, descendant of early Anglo-Irish people.In the 1950s, my grandfather was cheated several times when he was doing business, and lost most of his savings, but it was still enough for our little Dan to get a little money.He was on a scholarship, so he didn't have to pay tuition, and his doctoral dissertation was on I Don't Cover You "The Inanimate Narrator of the Early Medieval Epic". So he is not stupid.I said.Daniel was born with a tall head, definitely more than 180 centimeters, and his weight is commensurate with his height. He has black hair and a square chin.In the photo, he is sitting in an armchair, carefully taking out the glass ball from the box, and looking up at the camera. The white shirt, black trousers and light gray pullover sweater on his body look expensive.He wore metal-rimmed glasses, and his eyes were as cold as stone in the magnified image. Definitely not stupid, none of the four of them, especially him.You have to be careful around him. I pretended not to hear.Justin.Mannling, Frank went on.Justin, wrapped in white Christmas lights, looked helpless.He was also tall, but rather slender, with the appearance of a precocious professor, wearing miniature rimless glasses, receding short mouse-gray hair, and a long, gentle face.From Belfast, the subject of my doctoral research is the love of the sacred and the world in Renaissance literature. I didn't say which is the world, but I think it should be two pounds a minute.His mother died when he was seven years old, and his father remarried, giving birth to two half-brothers.Justin doesn't go home very often, but the lawyer father still pays for his son's tuition and sends him money every month.Sounds good, right? Parents have money, and children can't do anything.I responded casually. They can find something to do, can't they?Lacey tutored, corrected exam papers, proctored exams, and worked in a cafe until she moved to Grunsky and the commute was too inconvenient to quit.Do you work in college? I work as a bartender and it sucks.I wouldn't do it if I had no other choice.Getting poked in the ass by a drunk accountant isn't exactly the kind of life you're striving for. Frank shrugged and said: I hate free takers.Speaking of which, he is Rafael.Hyland, Xiaorui, a bastard who is lucky.Dad was a business banker from Dublin who moved to London in the 1970s and mom was a socialite.The pair divorced when he was six, throwing him straight to boarding school.Dad is promoted every two years, and when he has more financial resources, he helps his son transfer schools once.Xiao Rui has her own trust fund, and the subject of her doctoral research is "Resistance and Discontent in Jacobean Drama". Xiao Rui was leaning on the sofa, holding a wine glass and wearing a Santa hat, playing the role of a vase competently.His appearance is unbelievably handsome, and he will definitely make many men get angry and utter bad words.He was about Justin's height and build, but his face was thin and bony, deeply chiseled, and blond.The hair is dark and blond and thick, the skin always looks like it has just been exposed to the sun, the ice-brown eyes are narrow and long like a witcher, and the face is like the mask of an Egyptian pharaoh. Wow, I said: Now I'm interested. If you behave well, I won't tell your man to tell you that.Anyway, this kid seemed to be a playboy, and Frank really said categorically: The last one: Abigail.Stone, nicknamed Abby. Abby is not pretty, she is petite, has shoulder-length brown hair, and a short nose, but her face is very special. The curved eyebrows and the slightly curled corners of the mouth seem to be mocking, and people can't help but take a second look. .She sits in front of a brightly lit fireplace, making a garland of popcorn, looking at the photographer (who should be Lacey) with disgust, and with a blurred hand, I think she's throwing popcorn at the camera. Abby was different, Frank said: Dubliner, father unknown, mother sent Abby to foster homes when she was ten.He got A's in all his high school graduation exams, entered Trinity College and continued to work hard, and graduated first again.The topic of doctoral research is <Social Class in Victorian Literature>.She used to earn living expenses by cleaning the office and teaching English, but now she doesn’t have to pay rent, because Daniel doesn’t charge them, so she only teaches at the university and helps teachers do research to earn some pocket money.You can see the next one.Although I was caught by Frank, I still couldn't take my eyes off the four of them.On the one hand, the scene in the photo is too bright and perfect, as if you can smell the aroma of baking gingerbread, and someone is singing carols in the distance, only a mockingbird can be used as a Christmas card.In addition, they dress very plainly, like Puritans.The boy's shirt was white and shiny, the creases of his trousers were as sharp as a knife, and Abby's long wool skirt was tucked in stiffly at the knees, with no brand or slogan in sight. When I was in college, the clothes of my classmates felt like they had been washed countless times in broken coin-operated washing machines with off-brand laundry detergent, and that was the truth.They are simple and natural in the photo, but they are very weird.The four of them may be inconspicuous separately, and they are even more dull compared to the full-body designer outfits that are popular in Dublin nowadays.But when they gather together, with four pairs of calm and defiant eyes on the camera, they look not only weird, but also distant, as if from the last century, feeling scary and strange.Like most detectives, I stare at something I don't understand.Frank knew this well, of course he did. These four are really special.I said. These four people are really weird, really weird, everyone in the English department said so.They have known each other since they first entered university, and they have been together for nearly seven years. The four of them are inseparable and have no time to interact with other people.They are not particularly popular in the department, and other students find them annoying.It's a surprise, isn't it?But the dead girl had infiltrated their circle, and became acquainted with them shortly after entering Trinity College.Others want to be friends with the girl, but she lacks interest and only sees these four people. I can understand.I have a crush on girls, but only a little.In any case, she has good taste.How did you tell the Gang of Four? Frank grinned and said: After the girl lost consciousness in the hut, the shock and the cold made her lose temperature and faint, but it also slowed down her heartbeat, so the witnesses could easily think she was dead, right?Bleeding stopped and organs were not damaged.Cooper said that this set of teachings has no clinical basis at all, but it should be very reasonable for people who lack medical common sense.I think this is enough, and it seems that no one thinks it is wrong so far. He lit a cigarette and began blowing smoke rings towards the ceiling.We said the girl was still unconscious and could die at any moment, but it could also make it through and no one knew. I wasn't going to be bluffed by Frank.They will definitely want to see her.I said. They have already said that, unfortunately, due to safety considerations, we cannot disclose the location of the girl's diagnosis and treatment at present. Frank is clearly enjoying it.How did they react?I asked. Frank was lost in thought, leaning his head back on the sofa, smoking slowly.After a while, he said: This is natural, but we don't know whether the four of them were frightened because the girl was stabbed, or whether some of them were worried that the girl would wake up and tell us what happened.They were very cooperative, we asked questions and answered them without compulsion, but you don't realize until after the fact that they didn't really say much.They're a bunch of freaks, Casey, and hard to fathom.I really want to see how you deal with them. With a big wave of my hand, I gathered the photos and returned them to Frank.Well, I said: Let me ask again, why did you come all the way here to show me the photos? Frank shrugged, staring into innocent blue eyes.See if you happen to know one of them, it might change us completely I don't know any of them.Honestly, old Fa, what on earth do you want to do? Frank sighed, tapped the photo methodically, and retracted his jacket pocket after aligning. I just wondered, he replied softly, if I was wasting my time.I need to know if you are 100% sure that on Monday morning all you want to do is go back to work, go home and fuck up, and forget all about the past few days. The smile and embellishment in Frank's tone disappeared, but I know Frank so well that he is the most dangerous now.I don't know if I can choose to forget, I said cautiously: But I feel that this matter is like a trap, I don't like it very much, and I don't want to get involved. Are you sure?Because in the past two days, I have been so busy that my butt is about to bloom, and I dig out Lacey's details every time I meet. This is what you should do, stop framing me with guilt. If you are absolutely sure, then stop cooperating with me, it will only waste both of our time. You asked me to cooperate, I reminded Frank, just three days, no promises, blah blah blah. Frank nodded thoughtfully and said: So you keep doing this and cooperate with me.You love being in the domestic violence unit, and you know for sure. Honestly, Frank (which is what he is) has scratched the surface.Maybe we met again, seeing him grinning in my eyes and hearing him speak hurriedly in my ears, and I went back in a flash, thinking of the days when undercover work was still brilliant and beautiful, and I was eager to devote myself to it.Or maybe I'm drawn to the hiss in the spring air, but it could just be that I've been sad for a while.In any case, I felt as if I had been asleep for months and suddenly woke up.I wasn't going to tell Frank, but I felt uncomfortable thinking about going back to the domestic violence unit on Monday morning.My partner, a County Kerry native named Maher, always wears a golf jumper, finds non-Irish accents amusing, and breathes through his mouth while typing.I suddenly wonder if I'm going to hit him over the head with a stapler if I spend another hour with him. What does this have to do with the case?I asked. Frank shrugged and put out the cigarette: Just asking, because the Kathy I know doesn't like to be in a safe and comfortable office from 9 to 5, she can do this kind of thing in her sleep.That's all. I suddenly wished that Frank would get out immediately, because he made the apartment small, cramped, and dangerous.Well, that's right, as I said, I picked up the wine glass and took it to the sink. It's been a long time. Kathy, Frank said behind my back in the softest voice: What happened to you? I found Jesus as my savior, and I swung my cup at the sink and said: He doesn't let people mess with their heads.I had a brain transplant, I got mad cow disease, I got stabbed, I was old, I was sober, you name it, I don't know what happened, Frank.I just know I wish my life could be a little fucking quieter, but this damn case and your damn idea totally took away my peace, okay? Hey, no problem, Frank's calm tone makes me feel like an idiot: it's up to you.But if I promise not to talk about the case, can I have another drink? With trembling hands, I turned the faucet vigorously, but there was no answer. We can chat, as you said, we haven't seen each other for a long time.We can scold the weather, I'll show you pictures of my kids, and you can talk about your new boyfriend.What's the name of that guy, that's your ex-boyfriend, that lawyer, what happened to him?I always thought he was too boring for you. Aiden was my boyfriend when I went undercover.I kept missing appointments and wouldn't explain why or tell him what I was up to during the day, so he broke up with me, saying I value work more than he does.I washed the glasses and pushed them to the drying rack. Unless you need someone to think things through, Frank said with concern: I can understand that because it's a big decision. I can not make it.After worrying for a while, I couldn't help laughing.Frank can be really mean sometimes, and if I kick him out now, it means I'm going to consider his perverted offer.Well, I said: well, you can drink as much as you want.But if you bring up the case again, I'll have your arm crippled, isn't that fair? Beautiful, Frank said happily: This kind of thing usually costs money to enjoy. For you, my service is free anytime.I toss the cups back to him, one at a time.He wiped the glass dry on his sleeve and reached for the bottle. So, Frank says: How is our little Sam doing in bed? We finish one bottle of wine and move on to the second.Frank told me that the rumors about the undercover team were all gossip that other units had never heard of.I'm well aware of Frank's tricks, but it's nice to hear familiar names, jargon, jokes only the undercover understands, and rapid-fire clips.Do you remember when we started: I attended a banquet once, and Frank wanted to send me a message, so he sent an operator to become the suitor I rejected, playing Stanley in a Streetcar of Desire under the window, shouting Lacey until until I show up.Another time, we were exchanging information on a bench in Merrion Square. When I saw my college classmates approaching, I cursed Frank for being a pervert at the top of my voice, and then ran away.It dawned on me that, if not willingly, I liked having Frank around me.I used to like to invite people to my house, such as a friend or a previous partner, spread out on the sofa and chat until it was too late, the music was lingering, and everyone was slightly drunk.But it's been a long time since anyone's been to my place except Sam lately, and I haven't laughed like this for even longer, and it feels really good. You know, Frank squinted at the wine glass for a long time before he said: You still didn't say no. I'm powerless to be angry.Did I just say anything that sounded good?I asked. Frank flicked his finger and said, "Listen, I have an idea. We're going to discuss the case tomorrow night. Why don't you come over?"Maybe it can help you decide whether to join or not. Bingo, here it comes: This is the hook hidden between the baits, the ploy behind the chocolate chip cookies, updates and concerns about my mental health.Jesus, Frank, I said: Don't you think it's too obvious? Frank grinned at me, not at all ashamed.It doesn't hurt men to try, and I mean, you really should come.The backup police don't report until Monday night, so it's just me and Sam discussing what we've found.Are you not curious at all?Of course I'm curious.Frank said so much, but he never mentioned what I want to know most, which is what kind of person the girl is.I leaned my head back on the mattress and lit another cigarette.Do you really think we can make it?I asked. Frank thought for a while, poured himself another glass of wine, and shook the bottle at me, and I shook my head.Under normal circumstances, he leaned back on the sofa and continued: I would say it should not work.But this is not the case, and among other things, there are two things in our favor.First of all, no matter what the girl's purpose is, she has only existed for three years, so there is nothing to worry about. I don't remember my first school dance.Secondly, even in these three years, her life background is very limited, she only interacts with a few people, studies in a department with not many students, and only has a job. You will never meet a large group of family members, friends and colleagues . Her doctorate course is English literature, and I remind Frank: But I don't know anything about English literature, Frank.I got an A in my high school graduation exam, and that's it, I can't speak those proper words at all. Frank shrugged and said: "As far as we know, Lacey is the same, but she still gets over it."If she can do it, of course you can too.We were also lucky in that she didn't study pharmacy or engineering.Besides, what if you screwed up her dissertation completely?Ironically, this is where injuries come in handy, we can tell you that you have PTSD or memory loss, and we can make it up all we want. Does she have a boyfriend?There is no limit to what I can do. No, so your virginity is safe.Another thing is also very beneficial. Did you see the photo just now?The girl had a camera phone and all five of them seemed to use it to take pictures.The image quality wasn't great, but the memory card was big enough to hold photos of her and four other nights out, picnics, new homes, decorating, everything.In other words, you have the material at your fingertips to familiarize you with girls' voices, body language, attitudes, and relationships. Everything about girls is in there.And you're a master, Casey, a top-notch undercover agent.Based on these factors, I'd say the probability of success is very high. Frank raised his glass to finish the drink and reached for his jacket.It's nice talking to you, baby.You have my cell phone number, when you think about what to do tomorrow night, remember to let me know. After speaking, he left alone.After Frank closed the door, I suddenly realized that I asked casually: What about the doctoral research?Do you have a boyfriend?As if I was checking the plan for holes, as if I had considered doing it. Frank knew very well when to go and leave others to worry alone.After he left, I sat on the windowsill for a long time, staring blankly at the roof outside the window.When I got up to pour another glass of wine, I realized he had left something on my coffee table. It's a photo of Lacey and her companion in front of the Hawthorn House.I stood at the table, bottle in one hand, glass in the other, tempted to turn the photo face down, and wait for Frank to give up and come back and take the photo, or throw it in the ashtray and burn it.But I finally picked up the photo and walked back to the window with it. The girl could be any age, and although everyone thought she was twenty-six, I could be nineteen or thirty in the eyes of others.There were no marks of the past on her face, no wrinkles, scars or chickenpox spots.Whatever life had given the girl before she became Lacie had faded from her body and burned into smoke, leaving her clean and intact, sealed in time without any blemish.I look older than her, and the Vesta action caused fine lines to appear at the corners of my eyes, and even after a full night of sleep, the dark circles did not fade away.我可以想見法蘭克會怎麼說：妳流了那麼多血，又昏迷幾天幾夜，有眼袋剛剛好，記得別用晚霜。 女孩屋友在她的兩旁注視我，神態自若，面露微笑，暗色長外套迎風翻騰，小瑞的圍巾有如絳紅色的閃光。相片拍得有點歪斜，他們應該是將相機擺在某個地方，用計時器拍的，所以沒有人要他們微笑。他們的笑容不為別人，只為彼此而笑，為了未來緬懷過去而笑，為我而笑。 他們身後，山楂林屋幾乎佔滿整張相片。房子式樣簡單，灰色長形喬治式建築。三層樓房越往上走，橫格窗就越小，讓屋子感覺更加宏偉。深藍色正門的膠漆已大片剝落，兩側是石階。三支煙囪頂管排列整齊，濃密的藤蔓從牆面一路攀延到屋頂附近。正門兩旁是凹槽立柱，頂窗有如開屏孔雀，除此之外就沒有其他離飾，單純的一棟房子。 愛爾蘭人對房地產的熱情深植血脈，強烈得猶如原始渴望。數百年來被地主一念之間攆出門外、無助置身路旁的教訓告訴我們，擁有家園才是一切。這就是為什麼愛爾蘭房價居高不下：建商曉得一間單房破公寓可以要價五十萬，只要他們聯手讓愛爾蘭人別無選擇，我們就算賣腎、一週工作一百小時也會設法買下。說來奇怪，也許是我的法國血統，讓我獨缺這樣的基因，想到房貸的重軛就渾身不自在。我喜歡我的公寓是租來的，只要提前四週通知房東和兩只大垃圾袋，隨時都能離開。 但如果我真的要買房子，應該就是山楂林屋這樣的地方。我的朋友都在買房子，但他們買的只是像房子的房子，毫無特色，低矮有如鞋盒，四周一片荒蕪，只有天花亂墜的模稜廣告之詞知名建築師設計、小巧公寓、全新豪華社區價格是收入的二十倍，但等建商完工脫手就開始搖搖欲墜。山楂林屋是貨真價實的房子，一棟不會胡整我的房子，堅固、自負而優雅，屹立長存，超越所有見過它的人。翻飛的細小雪花模糊了藤蔓，依附在暗窗之上。屋子是如此寂靜與巨大，讓我覺得彷彿伸手就能穿透相片的亮面，進入林屋陰涼的深處。 就算不踏進屋裡一步，我也能知道女孩是誰和究竟發生了什麼。山姆只要查出女孩的身分或找到嫌犯就會通知我，甚至讓我旁觀偵訊。但我心底卻很清楚，山姆能為女孩做的只有如此，查出她的名字與兇手，卻留我後半輩子不停思索其餘的一切。山楂林屋在我心裡閃耀發光，有如一生才會出現一天的夢幻城堡，充滿誘人魅力。女孩的四位帥氣同伴在外守護，屋裡的秘密縹緲迷濛，難以捉摸。我的臉龐是打開屋門的鑰匙，而山楂林屋已經準備就緒，只要聽我說不就立刻消逝無蹤。 我發現自己將相片湊在眼前，離鼻尖只有三寸。不知不覺間，我已經在窗台坐到天色將暗，貓頭鷹開始在天花板裡暖身。我將酒喝完，凝視海水變成雷電般的顏色，地平線遠方的燈塔不停眨眼。等我確定自己醉得不會在乎法蘭克自鳴得意的模樣，我發了一封簡訊給他：明天幾點碰面？ 十秒之後，我的手機嗶了幾聲：七點整，局裡見。法蘭克的手機一直放在身邊，等我跟他說好。 那天晚上，我和山姆吵了一架。這是我們頭一回吵架。我和山姆交往三個月，連一點小爭執也沒有，吵架算是來得遲了，但時間還真是差到極點。 我離開重案組之後幾個月，開始和山姆交往。我也不清楚怎麼回事，那陣子很多事情我都不記得了。我家裡有兩件垂頭喪氣的毛衣，就是當你只想縮在床上好幾年的時候會穿的衣服。我看到毛衣，偶爾會想起買毛衣當時的那段感情，好奇自己從中學到了什麼智慧。薇絲塔行動拉近了我和山姆的距離，在我崩潰之後依然如此夢魘般的案子會擊毀你的心牆，或者反過來早在案子結束之前，我就認定他是璞玉。但在當時，愛情是我最不需要的東西。 山姆九點抵達我的住處。哈囉，他說完給我一吻和結結實實的擁抱。山姆的臉頰被寒風吹得冰冰涼涼：什麼東西這麼香？ 我房裡飄著番茄、大蒜和香料的氣味。我慢火燉好精緻的醬料，水也煮開了，一大包義大利餃子在手邊待命，一切都按女人自從天地肇始便信守至今的法則安排：要告訴男人他不想聽的事情，一定要先準備食物。我變成居家女人了，我對山姆說道：把家裡全部清過一遍。嗨，親愛的，你今天好嗎？ 喔，還不錯，山姆含糊其詞，總會搞定的。他脫下外套，目光掃過咖啡桌，見到酒瓶、瓶塞和杯子。妳在我背後偷偷和白馬王子幽會嗎？ 是法蘭克，我說：不算白馬王子。 山姆臉上失去笑容。喔，他說：他來幹嘛？ 我原本計畫飯後再談，但我身為警探，清理犯罪現場的本事實在爛到極點。他要我明天晚上和你們一起討論案情，我故作輕鬆回答山姆，一邊朝小廚間走，檢查大蒜麵包，他說得很迂迴，但意思就是這樣。 山姆慢慢摺好外套，掛在沙發椅背。妳怎麼說？ 我考慮很久，我說：決定要去。 他沒有資格，山姆輕聲說道，雙頰開始泛紅，背著我偷偷跑來這裡，趁我不在對妳施壓 就算你在，就在我面前，我的決定還是不會改變，我說：我是大人了，山姆，不需要人保護。 我不喜歡那傢伙，山姆厲聲說：我不喜歡他的思考方式，也不喜歡他做事情的手段。 我狠狠地關上烤箱的門：他在努力辦案。或許你不認同他的方法 山姆猛然揮手將頭髮從眼前撥開。不對，他說：錯了，不是這樣，他根本不是在辦案。這個叫法蘭克的傢伙這件案子跟他一點狗屁關係都沒有，就和我之前辦的案子一樣，不會有他突然出現，使喚這個、吩咐那個，要大家照辦。他是來搞破壞的，絕對是。他想把妳扔到一堆謀殺嫌疑犯之間，只因為他覺得可以，覺得很好玩，想等著看好戲。這傢伙他媽的瘋了。 我從櫥櫃拿出盤子。就算他瘋了又怎樣？我只不過去參與討論，這很嚴重嗎？ 那個變態在利用妳，嚴重的是這個。去年那件事之後，妳整個人就變了 這句話直直地刺穿了我，有如快速狠毒的重擊，又像誤觸通電的圍籬。我突然轉身面對山姆，完全忘了晚餐這件事，只想拿著盤子朝山姆的腦袋扔去。喔，別這樣，不要這樣！山姆，別把那件事扯進來。 已經扯進來了。妳的好法蘭克一看到妳，就知道事有蹊蹺，心想一定可以說服妳執行他的瘋狂點子 山姆的佔有慾發作了，他站在房間中央，雙腳牢牢地釘著，雙手插在口袋裡緊緊握拳：這是我的案子，我的女人。我砰的一聲將盤子摔在流理台上說：媽的，我才不管他怎麼想，他沒有強迫我做任何事。這跟法蘭克想要做什麼無關，這件事跟法蘭克一點關係也沒有，就這樣。當然，他是試著想要說服我，但我要他別來這套。 妳根本就是照著他的要求在做，哪裡有什麼要他別來這套？ 有那麼一秒鐘，我很好奇山姆是不是在吃法蘭克的醋，是的話我又該怎麼辦。假如我不去討論案情，不就是照著你的要求在做，可是你會說這是你在逼我嗎？我決定明天要去，你難道認為我連這種事都沒辦法自理？天哪，山姆，去年的事情又沒有讓我的腦葉被切除掉！ 我不是這個意思，我只是說妳變了個人，自從 我就是我，山姆，你仔細看清楚了，媽的，我就是我。我早就幹過臥底，那時薇絲塔行動還不知道在哪裡呢，所以別把那件事扯進來。 我們互瞪對方，過了一會兒，山姆輕聲說道：是啦，沒錯，我想妳說得對。 說完他頹坐在沙發上，雙手搓臉，突然顯得筋疲力盡，我想到他這一天可能經歷多少事情，忍不住心中一痛。對不起，他說：我不該提那件事。 我並沒有打算和你吵架，我說。我膝蓋發抖，不曉得兩人怎麼會吵成這樣，我們明明站在同一邊：只是別再說了，好嗎？拜託，山姆，求求你。 凱西，山姆好看的圓臉浮現前所未有的痛苦神情：我做不到，要是天哪，要是妳出事了怎麼辦？這是我的案子，和妳一點關係也沒有，只因為我揪不出該死的嫌犯，我受不了，真的沒辦法。 山姆說得氣喘吁吁，似乎呼吸不過來，我不曉得該抱緊他，還是踹他一腳。為什麼你覺得和我沒關係？我問：這女孩長得和我一模一樣，山姆，這女孩四處走動，和我有同一張臉蛋，你們的人怎麼知道誰是誰？You think about it.一名成天在讀他媽夏洛特．勃朗蒂的研究生，和一名抓了十幾個人到牢裡的警探，誰比較有可能被殺？ 房裡一陣沉默。山姆也參與過薇絲塔行動，我們兩人都很清楚，至少有一個人會毫不遲疑將我殺死，而且有本事做到。我感覺自己的心臟狂跳，猛力地敲打我的肋骨。 山姆說：妳是說 什麼案件不是重點，我沒好氣地說：重點是無論如何，我人已經被扯進來了。我可不想下半輩子時時提心弔膽，回頭看有沒有人跟著我。我可受不了這種事。 山姆身體一縮。不可能下半輩子，他輕聲說：這一點我可以向妳保證，起碼。我真的打算逮住這傢伙，妳知道。 我靠著流理台，深呼吸一口氣。我知道，山姆，我回答：對不起，我不是這個意思。 要是那混球正在找妳，那妳就更有理由不要露面，讓我把他逮住。 原本香濃的料理味開始刺鼻，發出危險的訊號：有東西燒焦了。我將爐子關掉，鍋子放到後面，我們兩人應該會有好一陣子沒胃口吃飯了交叉雙腿坐在沙發上，面對山姆。 你把我當成你的女朋友，山姆，我說：我不是你女朋友，在這種情況下不是，我是一名警探。 山姆嘴角一撇，露出憂傷的微笑：妳難道不能兩個都是嗎？ 我也很想，我說，心想剛才不應該把酒喝完，這男人需要喝一杯。真的很想，但現在沒辦法。 過了半晌，山姆長嘆一口氣，仰頭靠著沙發。所以妳想做，他說：法蘭克的臥底計畫。 沒有，我說：我只是想知道女孩的事，所以我才會說要去開會。這跟法蘭克沒有關係，跟他的變態點子也沒有關係，我只是想聽聽女孩的事。 Why?山姆問。他坐起身子，抓住我的雙手要我看著他。他的聲音有一點尖，帶著挫折，甚至請求：女孩跟妳又有什麼關係？她不是妳的親戚，不是妳的朋友，什麼都不是。她只是偶然出現的人，就這樣，凱西。這女孩只是想擁有新生命，碰巧遇到絕佳的機會而已。 我知道，我說：我知道，山姆。這女孩聽來就不是什麼特別好的人，要是我們遇到，我可能一點也不喜歡她。但問題就出在這裡，我不希望她留在我腦中，我不要一直想到她。我覺得自己如果知道她夠多事情，就能將整件事拋到腦後，忘記這女孩曾經存在。 我也有一個和我長相一樣的人，山姆說：他住在威克斯福，工程師，我就知道這麼多。偶爾會有人走上前來，說我簡直是他的分身，這種事大約每年一次半數時候，他們真的喊我布蘭登。我們會哈哈大笑，他們有時候會拿出手機拍下我，拿給他看，就只是這樣。 我搖搖頭：那不一樣。 What's different? 起碼他沒有被謀殺。 我沒有惡意，山姆回答：但就算他被人殺了，我也懶得去管，除非案子掉到我頭上，否則完全不是我的問題。 但她是我的問題。I said.山姆雙手又大又暖，包著我的手感覺很結實。他的頭髮只要心情煩憂就會垂在額前，這會兒也是如此。這天是星期六，春天的夜晚，我和他應該在愛爾蘭南部的海邊漫步，被黑暗、海浪與杓鷸包圍，或是試做新菜，用超大的音量播放音樂，或造訪難得的偏僻酒吧，窩在角落，即使關門時間過了，大夥兒還在哼唱情歌。我希望她不是，可惜她是。 有一件事，山姆說：我搞不懂。他放開我，讓我雙手落到膝蓋上，朝我的手皺眉頭，拇指下意識繞著我其中一個指關節緩緩轉圈。在我看來，這只是一件稀鬆平常的謀殺案，長相類似的巧合可能發生在任何人身上。當然，我第一眼看到女孩的時候是嚇了一跳，但那只是因為我誤以為是妳。一旦確定不是妳，我就覺得一切都可以恢復正常。但妳和法蘭克，你們的反應都好像女孩對妳來說非比尋常，和妳切身相關。我有說漏什麼嗎？ 算吧，我說：是切身相關沒錯。對法蘭克來說，有一部分確實如你所言，他認為這是絕佳的冒險，但不只如此。蕾西從一開始就是他的責任，我做臥底八個月，蕾西就有八個月是他的責任，現在也是。 但這女孩不是蕾西，她盜用身分。我只要到詐騙防治組，隨便就能找出幾百個像她這樣的傢伙。世界上沒有蕾西這個人，她是妳和法蘭克捏造出來的。 山姆抓緊我的雙手。我知道，我說：你這麼說也有道理。 山姆嘴角扭動。我就說了，那傢伙是瘋子。 他這麼說，我不是很反對。我向來覺得法蘭克之所以膽大包天，無懼得令人稱奇，其實是因為他缺乏現實感。對他來說，每次行動都像美國五角大廈玩的戰爭遊戲，只不過更酷，因為風險更高，結果也更明確而持久。法蘭克和現實脫節得並不明顯，他人又夠聰明，因此從來沒有被人察覺。但當他鉅細靡遺、面面俱到又完美冷靜地控制全局，我想有一部分的他是真的相信，自己是史恩．Connery. 我會發現這一點，是因為我認得。我自己對現實與非現實的區隔也不大明顯，我朋友艾瑪認為凡事都有原因，她說我會這樣，是因為失去父母當時年紀太小，無法面對。他們前一天還在我身邊，隔日就消失無蹤，狠狠地衝破了我對現實與幻覺的區別，將界限撞成碎片，再也無法還原。我身為蕾西的那八個月，就覺得她確實存在，是我失散或拋棄多年的姊妹，是我體內的影子，就像少數人去照X光，結果看見逝去雙胞兄弟或姊妹的身影。早在她回來找我之前，我就曉得自己對她有所虧欠，因為我是活下來的那一個。 我想，山姆應該不想聽到這些。他自己的麻煩已經夠多了，不需要我再加油添醋。於是我開始和他談臥底，這是我所能找到最接近的話題。我對他說，臥底會讓一個人的感官徹底改變，顏色強得彷彿能在身上烙下印記，空氣嚐起來明亮粗糙，有如滿是金屑的濃烈清酒。走路的方式也會不同，因你隨時踩在巨浪般的風險上，平衡感將變得細緻敏銳，宛如衝浪高手。我對他說，任務結束之後，我再也不和朋友抽大麻煙或到夜店嗑搖頭丸，因為做臥底比這些都要痛快。我對他說，我臥底做得很好，是天生高手，就算在家暴組磨練一萬年也比不上。 山姆聽我說完之後，微微愁眉不展。妳到底在說什麼？他問：妳是說妳想回去幹臥底？ 山姆的手已經不在我的手上。我看著他，看他坐在沙發另一頭，頭髮側向一邊，對我皺起眉頭。不是，我說：不是這樣，只見山姆明顯鬆了一口氣。完全不是這麼回事。 有一點我沒對山姆說，就是臥底也有壞處。有人因而喪命，大部分人失去朋友、婚姻與感情。有兩人失去控制，只是過程緩慢，等到發現已經來不及挽回，只好私下動用複雜程序讓他們提前退休。還有些人勇氣盡失，而且通常是你意想不到的人。事前毫無徵兆，只是某天醒來突然意識到自己的所作所為，就像走高空繩索的人往下看，再也動彈不得。 麥考就是這樣。他隻身滲透到愛爾蘭共和軍的爆破小組，大家都覺得他視恐懼為無物。但有天傍晚他在酒吧外的小巷打電話，說他沒辦法再回酒吧，卻又離開不了，因為他的雙腳不停地顫抖。他哭哭啼啼，來接我，他說，我想回家。 我見到麥考的時候，他已經在檔案室工作。還有些人走到另一個極端，卻是最恐怖的轉變：當壓力超過負荷，他們失去的不是勇氣，而是恐懼。他們失去害怕的能力，就連應該畏懼的場合也勇往直前。這些人再也無法回家。他們就像一次大戰最傑出的飛行員，在空中橫衝直撞、所向無敵，戰後回家卻沒有容身之處。有些人徹頭徹尾成了臥底，被這份工作完全吞噬。 我從來不怕喪命，也不怕失去勇氣。我越是身在火場，膽子就越大。我怕的是另一種危險，更加細微隱伏。至於其他事情，我頂多就是擔心。法蘭克曾經對我說過一句話，我不曉得對不對，也沒有向山姆提起。他說，最高明的臥底身上都有一條黑暗之線，牢牢繫在某個地方。