Chapter 7 Chapter Six

The sound of footsteps thumping downstairs woke me up.I was dreaming, a dark and chaotic dream, and it took half a second for me to get rid of the entanglement of the dream and understand where I was. My gun wasn't by the bed, and I groped for it, panicking before I remembered what was going on. I sat up feeling fine and obviously not poisoned.The smell of frying oil seeped in through the crack of the door, and I heard the distant rustling below, telling the lightness of the morning. hateful!I didn't cook breakfast.It's been so long since I've woken up after 6 that I completely forgot to set the alarm.

I secure the mic with a bandage, put on jeans, a T-shirt, and what should be a plush jumper from one of the boys (it's cold), and head downstairs. The kitchen was in the back half of the house, and it was a much better place than the horror Lacey had recorded.They removed the mold, cobwebs, and greasy plastic floors and replaced them with slate floors, scrubbed wooden tables, and a pot of dying geraniums on the windowsill behind the sink. Abby, in a red flannel hoodie with her hat pulled up, was frying bacon and sausage.Daniel had already changed clothes and sat at the table, leaning on the edge of the book while reading and eating fried eggs, obviously enjoying it.Justin cut the toast into triangles and grumbled.

I won't lie, I've never had anything like this happen to me.Last week, only two students finished reading the progress, and the others sat in a daze from beginning to end, chewing gum, just like a herd of cows.Are you sure you don't want to exchange with me, just today?maybe you can inspire them a little more no.Daniel said without looking up. But your student is reading sonnets, and I know sonnets, very good at sonnets. don't want. morning.I said at the kitchen door. Honey, Justin said: Come on, let me see you, how are you all? Fine, I said: Sorry, Abby, I overslept.that, i'll come

I reached for the spatula, but she grabbed it and said: No, you are still recuperating from your injuries, so you rest today.Tomorrow I will definitely drag you out of bed, go sit! Another moment of hurt.Daniel and Justin seemed to pause, and their movements were delayed by half a beat.I go to the table and sit down, Justin takes another slice of toast, and Daniel turns the pages and pushes the red enamel teapot towards me. Abby scooped up three slices of bacon and two eggs on a plate and brought them to me without asking. Oh, it's cold, she said, and hurried back to the fire, please, Daniel, I know you hate double glazing, but seriously, we can at least consider

The double glazing is the work of Satan, evil as hell. Yes, but at least it's warm.if we don't buy rugs Justin nibbled on his toast and stared at me with his chin in one hand, making me so uncomfortable that I had to concentrate on eating.Are you sure you're okay?He asked nervously: Your face is very pale.You're not going into town today, are you? probably not.I said. I wasn't sure I'd make it through the day, at least not.Besides, I'd like to examine the room by myself and find a diary or calendar, or something of that sort.I think it's best to take it easy for the next few days.However, this reminds me of one thing, what happened to the seminar I taught?

Discussion classes usually end before the Easter break, but there is always a class or two that slips into next term.I still have two classes to lead, Tuesday and Thursday, but I don't want to see them. We'll cover for you, said Abby, as she packed a plate of food for herself and came over to join us at the same table: it should be a substitute.Tuesday is Daniel, who will help you with the heroic epic Beowulf, in Old English. Pretty, I said: How did the students react? It wasn't too bad to be honest, Daniel said: They were petrified at first, but then one or two made comments, which were insightful and interesting.

Just as he finished speaking, Xiao Rui, with disheveled hair, stumbled into the kitchen in a T-shirt and striped pajama pants, apparently led by the radar of his brain.He waved his hand casually to say hello, fumbled around to find a mug, poured himself a large cup of black coffee, grabbed a slice of toast triangles that Justin had cut, and walked out again. twenty minutes!Justin yelled at him: I won't wait for you!Without looking back, Xiao Rui waved her hands back and continued walking. I really don't know why you are so excited, Abby said, cutting the sausage: five minutes later, he can't even remember seeing you just now, even after drinking coffee.Whoever called him Xiaorui, it's useless after drinking the coffee.

That's true, but he's bound to whimper again later, saying I didn't give him time to prepare.I'm serious, I will never talk to him this time, even if I'm late, it's his problem.He can buy his own car or walk to Dublin, I don't care every morning.Abby told me over Justin, who was waving a butterknife angrily. I rolled my eyes.Outside the small French window behind Abby, a rabbit was grazing with its head down, leaving a dark footprint in the white dew. Half an hour later, Xiaorui and Justin went out. Justin parked the car at the door, honked his horn, stuck his head out of the car window to curse people, and said cruel words that no one could hear clearly.In the end, Xiao Rui finally rushed into the kitchen, halfway through his coat, shaking his backpack in his hands, grabbed a piece of toast, stuffed it into his mouth, and rushed out.There was a loud slam on the front door and the whole house shook.Abby cleaned the dishes and hummed softly in a deep contralto: The river is vast, and it is difficult to cross the other side. Daniel is smoking a filterless cigarette. A few wisps of smoke curl up against the weak sunlight outside the window. Both of them are very comfortable. I pass.

I should be very happy.I didn't expect that I would like them. Daniel and Xiao Rui are still hard to say, but Justin makes me feel very warm. Although he is picky, he is not deliberately, making people feel very kind.As for Abby, Frank is right, it's a pity I'm undercover, otherwise I would definitely want to be friends with her. They lost a buddy and didn't know it, and that gave me the opportunity to sit in their kitchen, eat their fried breakfast, and try to hide it from them.Last night's suspicions (poison steak, please!) were so ridiculously corny that I was ashamed.

Daniel, it's time for us to go, Abby wiped her hands with a dry rag, looked at the clock and said: Need we bring something back from outside, Lei? Cigarettes, I said: I'm almost done smoking. Abby took out a pack of Marlboro Light Cigarettes from her home clothes and threw it to me, saying: smoke mine first, I will buy some more when I come back.What do you want to do at home all day? Eating and reading on the sofa, being a sloth.Are there any cookies? Your favorite vanilla buttercream cookies are in the cookie jar, there are chocolate chips in the fridge, and Abby neatly folds the rag, hangs it on the stove handle and says: Are you sure you don't want one of us staying home with you?

Justin has asked me six times.I looked up at the ceiling and said: No. I catch Abby taking a quick look at Daniel, but he's just turning the page and paying no attention to us.Well, she said: don't pass out on the stairs or something.Five minutes later, Daniel? Daniel nodded without looking up.Abby ran upstairs, softly in her socks, and I heard her open and close the drawer, and after a while she began to sing softly again: I lean against the oak tree and think it's worth leaning on Lacey smokes more than I do, a pack a day, starting after breakfast.I took Daniel's match and lit one. Daniel marked the book, closed it and put it aside.Can you smoke?He asked: In your current situation? No, I said arrogantly, and blew a cigarette at him across the table: What about you? Daniel smiled.You look better in the morning, he said: not as tired as last night, and a little lost.While this is normal, it still feels good to see you rejuvenated. I kept it in my heart, and in the next few days I will slowly improve my liveliness.The people in the hospital kept telling me that it would take some time, and told me not to rush, but I said: But I've had enough, who cares what they say. Daniel smiled even wider.Well, I think so, you must be a good patient, he leaned over the stove, tipped the coffee pot to see if there was any left, how much do you remember about that? He poured out the rest of the coffee and turned to look at me with a calm and curious expression.Forgot all about it, I replied: I don’t remember that whole day, and it was a bit vague before, the police should have told you. Yes, Daniel said: But that doesn't mean they're right, because you might have other reasons for not telling them the truth. I was confused: like what? I don't know, Daniel said, carefully putting the coffee pot back on the stove, but if you think of something, you don't know if you should tell the police, I just want to say that you don't have to face it alone, I hope you can talk to me, or Abby.can you promise me Daniel sipped his coffee, crossed his legs, one ankle deftly resting on the other knee, and watched me calmly.Frank said earlier that the four were tight-lipped, and I'm starting to see what he means.The man I see before me has the same look on his face whether he's singing in a choir or killing a dozen orphans with an axe.Of course, no problem, I said: but all I remember is getting back from college on Tuesday night, and then lying in a hospital bed terribly weak, and I've talked to the police about it. Well, Daniel said, pushing the ashtray in front of me: memory is really strange.Let me ask you, if you haven't finished his sentence, Abby has already thumped down the stairs, still humming.Daniel shook his head, stood up and started tapping his pockets. Daniel's technique is superb, and he quickly drove the car out of the lane with a turn.I stood at the top of the steps waving, watched the car disappear among the cherry trees, and closed the door after I was sure they had left. I stood quietly in the porch, listening to the empty house.I felt the room slowly fall silent, uttering long whispers like quicksand, wanting to see my next reaction. I sat at the bottom of the stairs, the carpet had been removed but not replaced, and on each step there was a long, unwaxed, dusty patch, tattered by generations of feet.I leaned against the railing, twisted my body to find a comfortable position, and began to think about the diary. If the diary had been in Lacey's room, the forensics would have found it, so the only questions left were where it was hidden in the house or garden, and what was written in it, so that she could not trust even her best friend.Suddenly, I heard what Frank said in the office of the serious crime team: she likes to keep her friends, and she likes to keep her secrets. Another possibility is that Lacie carried the diary with her and died in her pocket, but was taken away by the killer.That would explain why the murderer took the time to venture after her, dragging her into hiding in the shadows, his hands hastily sweeping over the limp body, patting the pockets, glistening with rain and blood, if he wanted the diary. This fits with my understanding of Lacey, who likes to keep secrets, but in reality, the diary must be small enough to put in a pocket, and it must be taken out every time you change clothes. It is better to find a place to hide it, which is safer and easier.It had to be rainproof, unsurprising, undetectable with other people, accessible and unobtrusive: definitely not her room. The toilet is on the first floor and the bathroom is on the second floor, I started with the toilet.But the toilet is only the size of a closet, and I thought it was unlikely when I saw the sink.The master bathroom was large, with 1930s tile, black and white checkered trim, missing corners in the bathtub, glossy glass windows, tattered mesh curtains, and a deadbolt door. With nothing in or behind the sink, I sat on the floor and pulled the divider from the side of the tub.The divider pulls well and although there is a grinding noise, just turning on the tap or flushing water can drown out the sound.The bottom of the bathtub was covered with cobwebs, rat droppings, dust, and a few fingerprints.I looked into the corner and saw a small red notebook stuffed there. I was out of breath like I was running.I don't like it. There are so many places to find, but I just hit Lacey's hiding place, as if it was destined.I feel like the room is shrinking, approaching me, leaning against my shoulder, steadfastly concentrating. I went upstairs to my room (Lacey's room) to get gloves and a nail file, then went to the bathroom and sat on the floor, carefully pinched the end of the file to hook out the notebook, and then used the file to turn the pages to find out that sooner or later the forensic officer would be in the notebook Collect fingerprints. I thought that the diary should reveal the truth, but I also knew it was impossible.The little red booklet is like a calendar, with a fake leather cover, with days as the unit, and one page per day.The first two months of appointments and memos, scrawled in perfect circles: lettuce, buri, garlic salt; eleven, discussion, room 3017; electric bill; ask Dan, Ovid's book?It's all mundane and trivial, and the more I read, the more uncomfortable I become.As a police detective, you are used to doing everything possible to infiltrate people's privacy.I sleep on Lacey's bed and wear her clothes, but the diary is a small relic that records her life day by day. It is only for myself, and I have no right to pry into it. But by the end of March, the diary had changed.The shopping list and discussion schedule completely disappeared, leaving a whole page blank, with only three notes, scribbled over.March 31, 10:30N.April 5, 11:30N.Finally, April 11th, two days before her death: 11N. There is no N in January and February, and it does not appear until the last day of March.Lacey doesn't have many connections, and as far as I can remember, no one's name starts with N.Is it a nickname?Or location?coffee shop?Or, as Frank said, someone from her past suddenly appeared and wiped her world completely? In the last two days of April, I memorized a string of English letters and numbers in the same scribbled handwriting: AMS79, LHR34, EDI49, CDGS, and ALC104.Game score?The amount she borrowed or borrowed from others?Abby's initials happened to be AMS, but none of the other initials matched the names of Lacie's connections.I stared at the letters and numbers for a long time, but all I wanted was the license plate number of the old car.However, I really don't think Lacey pays attention to the license plate, even if it is true, why should she keep it so secret. During Lacey's final weeks, no one said she was nervous or behaving strangely.She looked fine, and everybody told Frank and Sam that it was fun, and always seemed to be.The last video on her phone was three days before she was killed. She climbed down from the attic stairs, her hair was tied with a red floral silk cloth, her whole body was covered in dust, she was laughing and sneezing, and she handed something over: Don't be like this, Xiao Rui, look, look!It's a sneeze like an explosion, and the binoculars for the show, I guess they're made of mother-of-pearl, don't you think they're shiny?Whatever happened, she covered it up so well, so nice. The remaining months were blank, only three words were written on August 22: Dad's birthday. After all, this girl is not a child who has lost her bag, nor is it everyone's illusion.She has a father, somewhere, and she doesn't want to forget his birthday.Although she left a part of her life behind, at least she left a trace of connection. I slowed down and re-read the diary to see if I missed something.There are several dates circled at the beginning of the book, which are January 2nd, 29th and February 25th.The first page of the diary is a small calendar for December 2004. Sure enough, the sixth day is also circled. Twenty-seven days apart.Lacey's cycle is very accurate and records are kept on time.But at the end of March, there was no circle on the 24th, and she might have guessed that she was pregnant.She should have found a place (but not at home, perhaps Trinity College or a coffee shop, so as not to be suspicious of the packaging) and tested it with a pregnancy test stick, and things have changed since then.Her calendar suddenly became a big secret, the letter N started appearing, and everything else disappeared completely. What does N stand for?Obstetrician?Clinic?Or the child's father? Girl, what are you thinking?I whispered into the empty bathroom.Suddenly, there was a whisper behind me, scaring me out of my wits, only for the breeze to move the mesh curtains. I thought about taking the diary back to my room, but then I realized that Lacey must have had a reason for not keeping it there, and it's clearly been working so far.So I copied the information I found into my notebook, stuffed the diary back under the bathtub, put the partition back in place, and started to walk around the house, doing a general search while familiarizing myself with the environment.Frank would certainly like to hear about my success, but I've already decided in my mind that I won't tell him about the diary, at least not yet. I searched from the first floor upwards.Even if I find useful clues, it will be an uphill battle to be admissible in court.I live in Hawthorn House, which means I can search public spaces as much as I can, but other people's rooms are off-limits, not to mention I sneaked in under a false identity, and the evidence-based courtroom defense alone is enough for a lawyer to buy a new Porsche.But then again, as long as you know what to look for, there is almost certainly a way to find it legally. Hawthorn Forest House is like a house moved out of a storybook, with a natural and eerie atmosphere.I keep feeling like I'm going to step on a secret staircase and fall, or walk out of my room into a completely different hallway that appears every two weeks on Mondays.I moved quickly because I couldn't slow down, and I always felt like there was a big clock in the attic counting down, and the minutes and seconds were passing by. The first floor includes a large living room, kitchen, toilet and Xiaorui's room.His room is a mess, clothes are piled up in cardboard boxes, cups are sticky, and paper is scattered everywhere like snowflakes, but it still gives people a sense of certainty.You will feel that Xiao Rui actually knows where the things are placed, but outsiders can't figure it out.He amused himself by scribbling in charcoal on one wall, leaving behind impressive scribbles of cypress trees, red setter dogs and men in gentleman hats, like a mural.On the mantelpiece were (aha!) heads, medical skulls, wrapped in Lacey's red silk, looking proudly into the distance.I'm starting to like Xiaorui. The front of the second floor is the bathroom and Abby's room, and the back is Justin's room and spare room.It's not too difficult to clear the empty room, but Xiao Rui likes to stay downstairs alone.I thought of walking into Abby's or Justin's room and getting a strange taste in my mouth for no apparent reason, so I decided to start my search in the empty room. Uncle Simon apparently never threw anything.The feeling in the empty room is like a dream of a schizophrenic patient, or a locker that has been missing in my heart for many years.I saw three broken copper pots and a moldy gentleman's hat. The broken stick and wooden horse stared at me like the godfather in a movie. After a closer look, I found that it was half an accordion.I don't know anything about antiques, but these things don't look like exotic treasures, at least not worth killing for them, but more like the kind of junk you'd put outside your gate, hoping drunk college students would pass by, as Baby move home. Both Abby and Justin's rooms are tidy, just in different ways.Abby loves trinkets such as small alabaster vases with violets in them, crystal glass candle holders and old tin candy jars with red-lipped girls in exaggerated Egyptian costumes painted on the lids.Everything was wiped clean and carefully laid out on any flat surface in sight. Abby also likes color, weaving old red brocade, blue bell muslin and wispy lace into drapes, scraps pasted where the wallpaper has faded.Her room felt cozy and strange and a little unreal, like the dens of forest animals in fairy tales, and she was the little animal in the slouchy hat who could make jam towers. Justin's room is minimalist, which is a bit surprising.A small stack of books, photocopied materials, and scribbled notes were piled up on the bedside table, and group photos of roommates were pasted behind the door, arranged symmetrically, it seemed that they were in chronological order, and the surface was coated with transparent sealant.Other than that, everything was lean, clean, and functional: white sheets, white curtains swaying in the wind, ebony furniture bright and clean, socks rolled into balls and neatly arranged in drawers, shoes polished at the bottom of the wardrobe.There was a faint scent of cypress and masculinity in the room. There was nothing suspicious about the three bedrooms, at least I couldn't see it, but something was wrong.It took me a while to figure it out.I knelt on the floor of Justin's room, peering under his bed like a thief (nothing, not even a dusty bunny), and suddenly it dawned on me: their room felt like forever. I've never lived in a place where you can mess with the wallpaper and stick things around.Of course my aunt and uncle would not object, but there was always a soft-spoken atmosphere in their house, which kept me from disturbing the house.As for the landlords, they obviously felt that the apartment they rented to me was the work of American architect Wright. It took me months to convince my current landlord that I painted the vomit-yellowed walls white and stuffed the LSD rugs in the garden shed without letting them in. Housing prices plummeted.I didn't care about these until I was in the hawthorn forest house, facing their relaxed and happy attitude of taking it for granted, I also wanted to paint murals, and Sam could help me paint, only to realize that I was weird before, and any changes had to be like children Ask for permission from strangers just because they might get angry. The top floor is my and Daniel's room, plus two spare rooms.The vacant room next to Daniel's was full of old furniture, piled up and down, as if there had just been an earthquake.The grayed-out chairs were too small and never sat on, the display cases had too much rococo decoration, and the rest of the furniture was somewhere in between.A lot of things had obviously been removed, and the floor was covered with drag marks and blank spaces, probably taken by them to decorate their own room, and the rest of the furniture was covered with sticky dust a few centimeters thick. The vacant room next door to mine was filled with more junk, including cracked stone thermoses, wellies soaked in dried mud, and tapestry cushions with paintings of deer and flowers battered by rats.Cardboard boxes were piled rickety, and there were a few old suitcases.They had only been browsed not long ago, and there were obvious finger marks on the lids of the suitcases, one of which was half wiped clean by hand.There were also mysterious finger marks in the corners and several boxes, and the contents of the boxes were taken away.There are shallow shoe prints on the dirty floor, messy and intertwined. If you want to hide something, be it murder weapons, evidence or precious bric-a-brac, this is the place to be.I go through all the open boxes and don't touch the finger marks, just in case.But the box was filled with pen-and-pen paper, in a fidgety handwriting, and it seemed to me that someone (probably Simon Uncle) had been writing his family history for years.The family has settled in the Hawthorn House for a long time, since the house was completed in 1734, but apart from getting married and having children, buying a strange horse, and gradually losing most of the family property, they have never done any great things. Daniel's room is locked.When I learned undercover skills from Frank, I also learned to pick the lock. The door in front of me looks quite simple, but I have been disturbed by the diary, and the locked door makes me even more uncomfortable.I didn't know that Daniel always locked the door, or was just wary of me, I had no way of knowing.I was suddenly sure that he had set a trap, maybe there was a hair caught in the door frame or a glass of water by the door, and if I walked in, I would be found. I ended up searching Lacey's room. The forensics had already done it, but I wanted to do it myself.Unlike Uncle Simon, Lacey left nothing behind.The room was not clean, the books were placed on the shelves randomly and not neatly arranged, the clothes were almost piled on the bottom of the closet, and there were three empty cigarette boxes, half a Cadbury chocolate bar and a crumpled Blondie novel "Villette" under the bed. "notes.But there are so few things in the room that it is difficult to mess them up.No trinkets, old ticket stubs, birthday cards or dried flowers, and no photographs.The only memory she needs is the video on her phone.I looked in every book, in every pocket, but found nothing. Her room also feels timeless, though.Lacey tried to paint the wall next to the bed, a few quick strokes of ocher, crimson, and porcelain blue.I'm jealous again.Fuck you, I said to Lacey, you lived longer than I did, but I was paid to live. I sat on the floor, fished my phone out of my bag, and called Frank.Hey, honey, the bell rang twice before he picked it up and said: It's been revealed, huh? He is in a good mood.Yes, I said: I'm sorry, send someone to fetch me. Frank smiled: how is it? I switched the phone to speakerphone mode and put it on the ground, put the gloves and notebook back in the bag.Well, I thought, none of them looked suspicious. Needless to say, unless there is a problem with the head, who would feel that something is wrong?Is there any good news? They were all at school, and I probably searched the house. There was no murder knife, no bloody clothes, no Renoir paintings or signed confessions, not even a trace of marijuana or pornographic magazines.As far as students are concerned, they are simply terrifyingly simple.My packs of replacement bandages are sealed and numbered, and the blood is getting lighter and lighter, indicating healing from the injury, so that no one in their right mind can peek at my trash.People in my line of work are usually prepared for a bunch of weird things to happen.I found a replacement bandage with two on it and tore open the wrapper.Don't know who the guy who made the fake blood was, but he sure did a really good job. Did you find the diary?Frank asked: Daniel only told you, but didn't tell our diary. I leaned against the bookshelf, lifted my shirt and tore off the bandages.Assuming the diary was in the house, I replied: That guy must be a master at hiding things. Frank grumbled, seemingly in disbelief.Maybe you are right, the diary has been taken away by the murderer.But anyway, it's interesting that Daniel and the others feel the need to lie.Is anyone acting weird? No, they were a little uncomfortable at first, but that was natural.All in all, my sense is that they are all happy to have Lacy back home. The same goes for the messages I get from the bug.It was Frank who said, "Reminds me of something. What happened after you went back to your room last night?"I heard you talk, but I don't know why I didn't hear anything from you. Frank's tone changed, which was not a good omen.I stopped straightening the bandages and said: Nothing, they just said good night to me. So sweet, Frank said: It's like the TV series My Family Is So Cute, it's a pity I didn't hear it.Where's your microphone? In the bag, the battery pack stings so much I can't sleep. Then sleep on your back, your door is unlocked. I have a chair against it. Oh, that's good, it looks like you don't need support.Please, Casey!I seem to see Frank scratching his head in anger, walking up and down the room. Is that serious, Frank?Last time I only used the microphone at critical moments, and if I talked in my sleep, I wouldn't mess up the case. You didn't live with the suspect last time.Those four may not have been prime suspects, but they weren't cleared.Never remove the microphone except in the shower.You want to say last time, right?If you'd put the mic in the bag so we couldn't hear you, you'd be dead, bled to death before we got there. alright!I said: Got it. Did you hear me?Take it with you at all times, don't mess around. heard it. Well, then, Frank calmed down and said: I have a little gift for you, I heard him speak with a smile, it seems that he left the good things behind the preaching.I tracked down all of the original Lacey's connections, do you remember a girl named Harding?I bite off a piece of surgical tape and say: Should I remember? Tall and thin with long blond hair?Talks like a machine gun, still not impressed? Oh my gosh, I taped the bandages and stuck them in place, what a memory!Clingy Ting is my old acquaintance at University College Dublin. I don’t know what to major in. My blue eyes are crystal clear. I never forget to match my clothes with my eyes. As long as I meet someone who can be used, I will stick to it like an octopus. , clinging to each other, especially the rich little Kai and the hot party girl.She was trying to befriend me, and I don't know why, maybe she thought I was cool, maybe she just wanted free drugs. That's her.When was the last time you spoke to her? I locked the bag and pushed it under the bed, trying to remember.Sticky Ting is not the type to impress.Maybe it was the days before I pulled out?I saw her once or twice later in the city, but she ran away immediately. That's funny, said Frank, grinning maliciously, because she just talked to you a while ago, early January 2002 to be exact, and you had a good chat.She remembers the time very well, because she just went shopping for winter discounts before she met you, bought a gorgeous designer coat, and showed it to you.According to her, that coat was made of top-quality mole dark gray suede.I don't know what class moleskin belongs to, but do you remember anything? No, I said.My heartbeat was so slow and heavy that I could feel it on the soles of my feet.that's not me. I don't think so, either, but Harding speaks so vividly, almost word for word.The memory of that girl is like a fear cell, and if given the chance, she would definitely be our dream witness.Do you want to know what you said? Clingy Ting really has this ability.She never uses her head, so conversations can flow in and out without a hitch.This is one of the main reasons why I would associate with her in the first place.Help me review it.I said. You met by chance on Grafton Street, and she told you with a dazed look on her face. At first she didn't recognize her at all, and she couldn't remember the last time we saw her.You explain that you got drunk the night before, but she thinks it must be the aftereffect of your previous mental breakdown. She has heard about that incident. Frank obviously enjoys it, his tone is hurried and focused, like a hunting beast.I had much less fun than he, because I had already guessed that it would be so, but the details were not clear, and the satisfaction of guessing right was not as great as imagined.But when you remembered who she was, you became very friendly and even invited her over for a cup of coffee to catch up.Whoever Lacey was, she was very resourceful. Yes, I said.I found myself squatting like a runner, as if about to sprint.Lacey's room seemed to be taunting me with guile.Secret drawers, hidden floors, and blasting traps rumbled.She is very resourceful, needless to say. You sit in the café at Brown Thomas and she shows you her new booty, and you play flashbacks for a while, but you're eerily silent.But the point is that Sticky Ting asked if you were at Trinity College.Looks like you should have talked to her before you broke down, that you've had enough of university college and would love to transfer, maybe to Trinity College, or even go abroad.Do you remember? Yes, I sat carefully on Lacey's bed, I said so. At that time, the semester was coming to an end, and Frank hadn't made it clear whether the task should continue after the summer vacation, so I arranged a retreat by myself, just in case.Sticky Ting also has a specialty, that is, as long as there is a message or rumor known to her, it will spread throughout the school in a blink of an eye. I feel like the world is spinning, and the chaotic things are rearranging and reorganizing, and they fall into a new position with a soft sound.The coincidence at Trinity College that the girl went straight back to my old college, and I was already sick from there, made even more so by the new discovery. It turned out that the whole thing was just a coincidence that the two girls met in Dublin.But Clingy Ting wandered around the small town all day long, hoping to take advantage of others, but the girl did not enter Trinity College by chance, nor was it some magical power that made her incarnate as my shadow and broke into my world. It was my advice to her.We worked together seamlessly. It was I who made her Lacey, who came to Hawthorn House, every step of the way, without any hesitation, just as she pulled me into her life. Frank wasn't done yet.The girl replied no, saying she was away on a trip and not at school.She didn't say where she had been, but Harding guessed it was a mental institution.But the fun is yet to come: Harding thinks the psychiatric hospital should be in the US or Canada, because she remembers that your family lives in Canada, and more importantly, when you left University College and met her again on the street, the speech turned out to be very emotional. With a heavy American accent.So we now know when and where the girl learned of Lacey's existence, and there's a good lead that leads to her parentage.I think we should buy Sticky Ting a drink. Please go ahead!I said.I knew my tone was off, but Frank was too excited to notice. I've called the FBI and am going to email fingerprints and photos.The girl was probably on the loose, so maybe something could be found. I looked at the three mirrors on the dressing table, and the three Laceys looked at me suspiciously.Feel free to report back with the latest news, okay?I said: Let me know if you find anything. No problem, want to talk to your man?He is right there. Jesus, Sam and Frank shared the violence room.I'll call him later.I said. I heard Sam muttering to himself beside Frank, and suddenly I almost couldn't stand up to talk to him. Sam said that he checked your records in the last six months of the crime team, and Frank told me: Everyone who might have been offended by you has been removed.But he will track down earlier records and let you know as soon as possible. In other words, this case has nothing to do with Operation Vesta. Gosh, Sam.He retreated to the second line, stood at a distance, and still tried to reassure me.Persevering, he stared silently at the only threat he knew.I don't know if he slept the night before. Thanks, I said: Say thank you to him for me, Frank, and say I'll be in touch with him soon. 我需要出門，不只因為眼球活動過量，看了太多骯髒的怪東西，也因為屋子開始讓我脖子發毛，感覺周圍的空氣太過親近，知道太多事情。彷彿它在朝你眨眼，而你曉得自己騙不了它。我打開冰箱，做了土雞肉三明治（這五個人對芥末非常講究）和果醬三明治，泡了一保溫瓶的咖啡，出去走了很長的一段路。我想自己很快就要在黑暗裡漫步葛倫斯凱，甚至遇上對這裡瞭若指掌的兇手，因此最好先摸清方向。 這一帶簡直是座迷宮，幾十條羊腸小徑交錯在樹籬、田野與森林之間，從這一處僻壤通向另一塊荒郊。但我竟然沒有完全失去方向，只迷路了兩次，讓我頗為意外，也對法蘭克刮目相看。我走到肚子餓了，坐在牆上吃三明治，啜飲咖啡，瞭望山腰，在心裡朝家暴組、馬厄和他的口臭比中指。 戶外晴朗宜人，薄雲高遠，藍天清爽，但我放眼望去卻不見半點人影，只有遠方狗兒吠叫，有人朝牠吹口哨。我心裡猜想，葛倫斯凱應該被千禧年死光掃過，只是沒人發現。 回程途中，我順道勘查了山楂林屋的周邊環境。丹尼爾家族雖然失去大部分土地，但留下的地產依然可觀。幾道石牆比我還高，和綠樹並排成行，主要以山楂為主，屋子當年便是由此得名，但我還見到橡樹、白楊木和一棵正在開花的蘋果樹。頹圮的馬廢隱身在花香之外，是丹尼爾和賈思汀的車庫。馬廄容得下六匹駿馬，如今只剩成堆的骯髒工具與防水布，看起來很久沒有人碰過，因此我也沒有一探究竟。 屋後是大片草地，長約九十公尺，以濃密的樹叢、石牆和常春藤為界。盡頭有一道生鑄的鐵門，蕾西那天夜裡就是從這道門離開，走向生命的終點。草地的角落長了一大叢錯落有致的灌木，我認出迷迭香和月桂，應該就是艾比提到的香草園。雖然才過了一晚，感覺卻像幾個月前的事。 從遠處看，屋子顯得優雅而遙遠，彷彿舊水彩畫裡的景致。微風匆匆吹過，綠草搖曳生波，藤蔓高高揚起，草地傾斜在我腳下。離我只有二、三十公尺的側牆長滿藤蔓，後面躲了個人似的，身形輕盈幽微有如暗影，端坐在王位上。我脖子後的寒毛豎起，有如一道緩慢的波浪。 我的槍還貼在蕾西床頭櫃後面。我咬緊下唇，從香草園抓起落在地上的粗樹枝，眼睛始終盯著側牆的藤蔓。微風停歇，常春藤若無其事飄回原位，院子裡寂靜晴朗得有如夢境。我沿著牆走，腳步輕鬆卻又急促，接著緊貼牆面，抓緊樹枝，猛力一渾將藤蔓撥開。 沒有人在。樹幹和蔓生的枝葉與藤蔓在石牆邊圍出一塊小天地，有如凹室，又像沾滿陽光的氣泡。凹室擺了兩張石椅，涓涓細流從石椅之間穿牆而出，沿著低矮台階流向渾濁的小池塘，除此之外空無一物。陰影彼此交纏，我又看見剛才的幻象，石椅生出高聳的椅背，氣勢懾人，剛才的人影筆直坐著。我將藤蔓放下，幻覺再度消失。 顯然這裡擁有靈魂的不只屋子。我待呼吸恢復正常後開始檢查凹室。石椅裂隙依舊爬滿青苔，但其餘部分都很乾淨，表示有人知道這個地方。 我想這裡有可能是幽會地點，但離屋子太近，外人過來很容易被發現，而池塘邊的枝葉也顯示這裡已經一陣子未受打擾。我舉腳用鞋側掃過池畔，踢到光滑的扁平石板，泥巴裡金光一閃，我突然心跳加速：兇刀！可惜體積太小。是一枚刻著獅子與獨角獸的鈕釦，表面滿目瘡痍，看來有人很久以前曾經是英國陸軍。 引水到凹室的牆孔被淤泥塞住，我將鈕釦收進口袋，跪在石板上用手和粗樹枝將牆孔清乾淨。石牆很厚，花了我不少時間。完成之後，涓涓細流變成迷你瀑布，開心地潺潺自語，我雙手飄著泥土與腐葉的味道。 我用水洗手，在石椅上小坐片刻，抽煙傾聽水聲。待在這裡很好，感覺溫暖、寂靜而隱密，有如獸窩或小孩的藏匿處。池塘滿了，小蟲在池面盤旋，水從小溝溢到地面。我挑去落葉，池面慢慢清澈起來，映著我的倒影，波紋如絲。 蕾西的錶發出半點報時聲，我已經撐過了二十四小時，暴力室裡應該有不少人輸掉他們的賭注。我將煙蒂塞回煙盒，低頭避過藤蔓走出庭園，準備回屋裡閱讀論文筆記，追趕進度。 我插入鑰匙，前門應聲開啟，我走進去，屋裡空氣一陣騷動，但不再感覺過於親密，而是像淺淺微笑，在我的臉頰輕輕一碰，表示歡迎。