Chapter 18 Chapter Sixteen

I don't know what to do with the rest of the day.All my plans have been exhausted, and I can't do anything at the moment.I took a bath, washed my hair, and washed my clothes.I listened to the messages on the answering machine and there was only one new message.I turned on the computer and checked my mailbox. There was an email warning me to beware of a computer virus. I paced back and forth in the living room, looking at the list I had taped to the wall, trying to focus on what I already knew for sure: I was taken on Thursday night or between Friday, Saturday, and Sunday; A man answers; I have sex with someone.I made a decision: every time someone called, I would pick up the phone and talk to them; I would open all of Zou's emails; I would try to contact her friends.

I started with letters.I picked up the letters that lay over the fireplace and opened them one by one.She was invited to participate in a time-share villa in Spain; she was ordered to rewrite a textbook on the dynamite plot to assassinate King James I of England; she was invited to a class reunion; Friends want to contact her again.Another friend sent a newspaper clipping for and against Prozac, an antidepressant. I copied the person's name and phone number on a slip of paper, and sent her an estimate for the new hot water bottle. Copy down the man's phone number.I looked at the postcards, but they were just a few quick words or thank you notes from foreign vacations.

Then I relisted all the messages stored on the answering machine, I had spoken to her editor, and very few of the callers had left their last names or phone numbers.I called someone named Alice, who turned out to be Zou's cousin, and I had a chicken-and-duck conversation with her about a few dates, and she had last seen Zou six months ago.I called the woman who sent the Prozac clipping to Zou.Her name is Lucy, and she is Zou's old friend for many years. She has accompanied her through the joys, sorrows and joys of life.She had met Zou on New Year's Eve, when she thought Zou's symptoms had eased and he was more in control of his life.No, she had no news of Zou after that; and, no, she had no idea what her plans were.Her tone started to look worried, and I said it was probably fine and nothing to worry about.The guy who sold the kettle was out and I left a message on his answering machine.

I turned on the computer on the desk in the corner of Zou's room.I checked the files, hesitant to call her publisher and tell her I was pretty sure the project Zou was working on for her was in the computer.I click on Zou's mailbox to check the latest new emails one by one.I considered sending a bulletin to everyone in her contacts asking if they had heard from her, but decided to wait another day or two. Ban said that Zou is a very private person, and now I have completely violated her privacy, I hope she can understand.He also said she was very clean and I decided it would be best to do a big cleaning.I washed the dishes we had used the night before, scrubbed the bathtub, and put the clutter away.I searched around for the vacuum cleaner, and finally found it in a tall cabinet next to the bathroom. There was also a litter box and some unopened cat food in the cabinet. There was also a black storage bag. wearing ski gear.I vacuum my room and hers.After the washing machine finishes running, I hang the clothes to dry over the radiator.I made myself another cup of coffee, even though I was already jittery from too much caffeine and the strangeness.I play some music, sit on the couch, but feel restless.Then I heard someone downstairs, closing the door, and it dawned on me that I hadn't even done the most obvious thing, asking Zou's neighbors when they last saw her.

I finished my coffee, walked out of the residence, walked around to the entrance on the first floor, rang the doorbell and waited.The door opened a small crack, and one eye looked at me through the crack. Hello, I'm Zou's Zou's roommate, Abby, I'm The door swung open.I know who you are, honey.Zou introduced it for us, remember?Peter.You said you would come to visit me but you never came, did you ever come? He was a thin old man, much smaller than me.I don't know if he's shrunk with age, or if he's always been this teenage boy.He was wearing a tight yellow sweatshirt with the thread loose at one cuff, a plaid scarf wrapped around his thin neck, and slippers.His gray hair was thinning and scattered, and his face was lined with lines.Come in, he said.I hesitated.Come on, don't stand outside, come in.I can make us some tea.sit down.Well, leave that cat alone, sit back and make yourself comfortable.You should want some biscuits too, right?sugar?Would you like to add sugar?You've been coming and going, haven't you?I see you coming in and out.I have enough time to notice this kind of thing.

The room is warm, the windows are bright and clean, and orderly.Entire rows of books lined the walls, and he owned the complete Dickens in hardcover.I sat on the plush leather sofa and took the tea he offered me.The cat wriggled in its sleep and looked like the chubby tabby I'd seen through the window.Thanks Peter, that's great.Remind me, when did we meet? On Wednesday, he blurted out.The day you come.I just went out and walked on the sidewalk, just want to get some air, when you came with big bags and small bags, Zou introduced it to us.I told you that if you are free, you might as well come to my house for a walk.No, you never came.Of course, then you leave.

when was thatwhen did we leave Amnesia, is it?He smiled brightly.I never saw the two of you show up.Let's go on vacation together, shall we? Not really. Is Zou back too?Nice girl, Zou, has been very helpful.She took me to the hospital and visited me when I fell and broke my leg.Nobody else paid any attention, but she would come and bring flowers. She hasn't come back yet.I said vaguely. I'm eighty-six, he said.do i look like that not like.I said. My mother lived to be ninety-five.Ninety-five years old and then suddenly, one day, alas, she was gone.I still miss her a lot, silly, huh?I am an old man, and I miss my mother every day.I still have her comb, you know, a fine silver comb with an ivory back and real horsehair, you can't find that kind of thing these days.And her napkin tie, silver, with her name on the inside, beautiful.

I need just such a cup of tea, thank you. You are leaving?No cookies? I'll be back soon. I'm usually there. I slept deeply and dreamed that the fire alarm was going off, and I couldn't see where the fire was or where the escape door was.I couldn't move because of my negligence. If I knew where the escape door was, I could run towards that door; if I knew where the fire started, I could run in the opposite direction.The fire alarm went off again, waking me up, and I vaguely realized it was the doorbell.I reach for my dressing gown, but I can't open my sleepy eyes.That was the first problem, the eyelids felt as if they were stuck.I pulled my eyelids apart one by one, like peeling grapes, but even so I had to feel my way to the door.Even if it seems like I'm sleepwalking, I have to make sure the door chain is fastened.I opened the door, and the face of a young police officer appeared through the crack of the door.Miss Deborah?He said.

what time is it? He glanced at his watch. Three forty-five.He said.morning? He looked back.The sky was gray and overcast, but it was clearly broad daylight.My sanity began to clear.If it is a problem with the car, I said: I am going to pick up the car.The car was ticketed and impounded.I've been wanting to do it but I'm busy.You don't want to know. He was dazed.I didn't come for the car, he said.Can we come inside and talk? I want to see the documents. He sighed and passed a thin wallet through the crack of the door, as if I could really tell the authenticity of police documents.You can probably buy something like this online.I said.

I can give you a phone number to check if you still have doubts. Call your friend sitting in an office somewhere. Listen, Miss Deborah, I'm from Inspector Cross.He wants to talk to you, if you have doubts about this, can you talk to him yourself? I unlocked the door, and there were two people.They scrubbed the soles of their shoes on the doormat and took off their caps. If Cross wanted to talk to me, why didn't he come? We are here to pick you up. I felt the urge to yell, but I also felt a little relief at the same time.Cross finally came to me, I'm not a hot potato causing trouble.Five minutes later I was headed south in a police car.As we stopped at a traffic light, I saw people staring at me.Who is this woman in the back seat of the police car?Is she a criminal or a detective?I managed to look like a detective.As we crossed the river, I looked out the window and frowned.Not this way.I said.

Detective Inspector Cross at Castle Road Police Station. Why? no answer. Castle Road Police Station is a brand new police station with lots of glass curtains and colorful tubular steel beams.We went around the back and I was taken quickly through a small gate next to the parking lot and up the stairs.Cross was in a small office with another detective, a bald, middle-aged man, who held out his hand to me and introduced himself as Jim.Barrow. Thank you for coming over, Cross said.How are you? Is it because of Zou? What? Because I was driving to Dorset and she wasn't at her usual cottage.Also, I spoke to a man who knew her and he called others who knew her and no one knew her whereabouts. Yes, Cross said, looking at Barrow uncomfortably.It's the kind of look you get what I mean.But I have something else I want to ask you, please sit down.He compared a chair in front of the table.Do you know someone named Sally.Adamson's woman? do not know. Are you sure? who is she? You and Terrence.Is Waymo in touch? I suddenly felt a cold nausea all over my body.Started at the top of my head and worked my way down to my toes.problem occurs.I went to pick up the mail a few times.I changed my mind.sally.Is it his girlfriend? his girlfriend? I'm not sure exactly what the relationship is between them.I had bumped into her a few times by accident, and she arrived just as I was leaving.I don't know her last name, and I don't know if they're actually dating, but I think Terry is the kind of person who can't help being lonely.I mean, when we first met and then I paused.Is something wrong? The two looked at each other, and then Barrow took a step forward.She died, he said.Sally.Adamson.She was found dead last night. I looked back and forth between the two of them.I have about fifty questions to ask, so I start with the dumbest ones.died? That's right, Cross said.There are other situations.Her body was found under a hedge in the front yard of 54 Westcott Road.Strangled, incidentally, not a natural death. I shuddered, I suddenly felt cold all over.Terry lives at number sixty-two, I said. Yes.Cross said. Oh my god, I said.Oh my god. Would you like us to get you something?Cross said.coffee? I shake my head.What a nightmare, I murmured.More and more miserable.Dear God, oh poor Sally.But, what do you want me for?Cross didn't answer, just looked at me, and then I gradually realized. no, i said.No, no, no.There are frequent cases there.A single woman leaves the house at night.She could easily be robbed by a sneak attack. Cross walked to a desk in another corner of the office, and when he came back, he held something in a clear plastic bag, which he placed on Barrow's desk.Sally.Adamson's wallet, he said.That's what we found in her bag, next to her body.There were forty-five pounds in cash, two credit cards, and seven store consumption cards.perfect. No, I said it more to myself than to them.No, not reasonable.Does Terry know? Terrence.Waymore is downstairs, Jim.Barrow said.Our colleagues are talking to him. How did he say? He doesn't talk much.He is accompanied by a lawyer. don't you really thinkYou can't put my head in my hands and close my eyes.Maybe I could go to sleep and wake up and it would all be gone, like the vague remnants of a dream. Barlow cleared his throat, and I looked up at him.He picked up a typed document from the table and looked at it.In November and December of last year, you called the police on at least three occasions concerning your boyfriend. Yes, I said.They didn't do much either.They don't believe me. What did he do? The situation is simple.Terry was depressed, he lost his temper, he was drunk, and sometimes he was violent. He hit you? listen , if you ever thought telly would murder a woman Please, Miss Deborah, we can discuss your opinion later.No, can you answer our question first? I closed my mouth, trying to put on a disdainful expression.All right.I said. He hit you? Yes.but Slap you? Yes. Did he ever beat you with a clenched hand? Do you mean fist?Once or twice. You mean he hit you once or twice, or he punched you once or twice? I took a deep breath.the latter.Happened a few times. Did he ever use any kind of weapon? I held up my arms in a gesture of disbelief.It's all wrong, I said.It shouldn't be a question of yes or no.The situation is more complicated than that. Barrow moved closer to me and spoke calmly.Did he threaten you with anything?Like a knife? I guess so, yes. Guess what? Yes.I mean, he's done it before. Did he ever strangle you with his hands or his arms? That's when I reacted in a way that surprised me.I began to cry, unable to control myself.I fumbled to get out the tissue, but my hands didn't seem to work, and I didn't even know why I was crying.I don't know if it's because of my miserable life with Terry, or because I'm terrified for my own safety.And then there's that Sally, that Sally whose last name I don't know.I tried to picture her face in my head but couldn't.She was a woman whom I might have wished bad luck to her, had I ever thought of her, but now she did.So am I more or less responsible for this? When I recovered from crying enough, I saw Cross standing with a paper cup in each hand.He handed one to me, the glass contained water, and I drank it down.The other was coffee, hot and strong, and I took a sip. I want you to take a note, he said.If you think you can do it.I nod.good.We'll call a police officer over here. So, for the next two and a half hours, I drank cup after cup of coffee, recounting in detail the relationship between me and Terry that I was trying to put behind me.Some people say that pouring out unpleasant experiences can heal wounds and relieve pain.I had good friends too, but I didn't talk to them about Terry, the saddest part.I never revealed those things, never said them.When I say it aloud, they are in Jim.The fact that Barrow's office seemed to have a life of its own terrified me, too. For months I just thought of myself as being in a relationship that went wrong, where things got out of hand and we didn't communicate well.But when I say it, it doesn't sound like that.A young policewoman typed my statement.When I describe the night when Terry got so drunk and brandished a kitchen knife at me and held it to my throat, she stopped typing and looked up at me with wide eyes.He didn't really mean to hurt me, I said.He will never do anything that would hurt me.The Hawkins woman, Barrow, and Cross all looked at me, and then exchanged glances, tacitly keeping silent the obvious, that he had hurt me.Who am I trying to fool?Is there something wrong with me?Am I the kind of victim who is naturally submissive?As I recounted this incident, I began to wonder about the woman who had been condescending for so long.I also think of the woman I can no longer remember, the one who said enough, said enough, and left. I try to imagine Sally.Adamson, the woman who told me we were not alike, I pictured her lying frozen in some cold front yard.Then I thought about how she died over there, with Terry's cum inside her.I was so ashamed, my cheeks burned, and I thought Cross would know the horrible vision that passed through my mind.I asked who found her.It's the postman.I thought of her being found by a stranger and no one who knew and loved her knew she was dead.I also began to wonder: would Terry really do such a thing?If it was him, oh my God, if it was him, what does that mean for me and what happened to me?No one believed me, but until now, I believed in myself, and that's the only way I'm not going to be insane.