Why didn't I expect it? In January of this year, I got a job teaching a course at a local university (see how I recovered in a wheelchair, and I will not pursue any criminals in the short term). There are five or six people in our class who are willing to die for any form of Jǐng inspection work, even if it is as arbitrary as surveillance.
Connor and I walked back to the living room and Lacey said, "Extra credits, eh? How about Caleb?"
Lacey's hearing completely made up for her lack of eyesight. Connor asked: "Who is Caleb
I decided to leave before the fireworks display and kiss Lacey goodbye.
Caitlin lives less than a mile from Connor, and when I found that a radio station had no advertising time, I was turning to her street.
Caitlin lives in a cookie-cutter stucco house, and this neighborhood didn't exist at this time last year. The only thing that distinguishes each house from the next is the systematic collision of the last two digits in the address. I think if you want to open the window, you must apply to the homeowners' association. I tiptoed down the brightly lit side street. 1814014144 Ah 146.
I parked the Range Rover in the park and felt my phone vibrate in my hip pocket. I took out the phone and saw that it was the good doctor. I turned on the phone, "Yes, dear."
"My dear? Okay. I just want to call you to tell you that I'm back. They are transporting the body to the Penobscot County morgue. I tried to tell them that it was related to the murder of eight people in October, but They laughed it off."
"I don't think we need an autopsy to tell us the cause of death."
"I still can't believe it. I'm really sorry, Thomas."
"Yes, I am numb. I need to sleep for a while and deal with this matter tomorrow morning."
After a pause, she said, "If you want to live in Alex's house, I'm fine."
Thank you, but you forgot to sign my consent form. I didn’t like her to inquire about my situation. I said, "Are you sure? Then I'll go to Alex's house for the night. Although all her rooms are under renovation, I have to live with her."
"Does she have no sofa for you to sleep?" She just seemed to be a little angry.
I slowly got out of the car and started Caitlin's drive. "She said her sofa was contaminated."
"Contaminated? What is it for?"
"Caterpillar"
"Caterpillar? I don't know how to tell you Thomas, but I think she just wants to coax you to bed. Hey, can you wait? Someone knocks on my door."
Caitlin opened the door, put the phone to her mouth, and said, "You are a bastard."
I walked past her and noticed that the checkered boxer briefs and oversized supersonic T-shirt she was wearing were once my personal belongings. I walked into her compact kitchen, took a bowl from the synthetic oak cabinet, and stole a box of Lucky Charms (my lucky charm) from the top of the refrigerator.
From the corner of my eye I could see Caitlin smirking, and it was no doubt warm and fuzzy. Men hate women walking into their house, acting as if they own the place. On the other hand, female xìng thinks this behavior is a little worse than proposing marriage. I clearly felt Caitlin's ovaries squeezed into her fallopian tubes, watching my every move, just like an episode in "Yù Wang City".
Damage control. I asked platonicly: "Do you mind if I eat a bowl of cereal?"
"Yes."
Damn, this is a trap. "Well, I want to have a drink anyway."
"Whatever you want." She had been sitting behind a blue leather sofa, and then disappeared from her vision.
I ate two bowls of oatmeal and watched "Zhou Rì Comics". I laughed at foxtrot and pimples, and twice Caitlin's head popped out like a periscope. I rinsed my bowl, put it in the dishwasher (I'm a guest, remember), and walked into the bathroom downstairs. There is a small closet and Caitlin keeps extra towels. I fumbled the top of the shelf with my hands until my fingers touched the edge of the sealed bag. There are two razors, a small jar of shaving cream, a toothbrush and a small tube of watercolor fluid in the bag.
I hid the toolbox and walked out of the bathroom. Caitlin patted the seat next to her. If I sit on the floor, I'm not interested in the consequences. She said I looked nervous and asked if I needed a massage. I don't think anyone in the history of the world will refuse massage services, nor will I be the first.
Caitlin fell asleep on the sofa when I returned the gift, and I stole her bed on my own terms. I still don't understand how I woke up, my hands are tightly wrapped around her waist. She must have sneaked into bed at some point, I guess old habits are hard to change, especially subconsciously.
Caitlin was awkward, then turned to face me. Our faces are only a few inches apart. I don't know who started it first, but the next thing I know is that Caitlin's tongue is scratching my small intestine.
This is a routine that I am familiar with, a routine that I like very much. I put a supersonic t-shirt on Caitlin's head, revealing her perfect chest. She reached for my flat angle, and I suddenly realized the situation. I took a deep breath and said, "We can't. This will only make things more complicated, for both of us."
She nodded in agreement, but I could tell that my virginity hurt her. We lay there, immersed in embarrassing moments, like dust particles dancing in the brilliant morning light when the phone rang. Caitlin picked up the phone from the bedside table and said, "Doctor Doz."
I decided to run away. I picked up my clothes from the floor and sneaked into the bathroom. I chose not to take a shower, wash my face in Caitlin's Clinique bar, and then put on the clothes of the previous night.
Caitlin’s deodorant was on the counter and I quickly swiped it under each arm. The soap and baby powder deodorant gave off a strong female odor. I checked my pants to make sure that the baby did not slip into the socks. Everything was intact. I walked out of the bathroom, but Caitlin hit my phone on my chest.
She murmured, "Mangrove Director."
I covered the phone, "How does he know I'm here?"
"I told him." She sniffed, "Did you use my deodorant?"
I beg the fifth one, put the phone to my ear, "Prescott."
"I'm sorry about Jennifer. She is a good girl."
"Yes she is."
"I think I should apologize to you. In the next few days, you will encounter many such things."
"I will put a check next to your name."
"Very good. As we speak, the children are already on the way."
I thought he was referring to my friends Gleason and Gregory. "Sorry, Charles, I have to do it alone this time."
"How can you help us?"
I could have asked three or four people to look after Lacey, but the last thing I want to see is two FBI thugs who eat up my food and seduce my sister. I had an idea and said: "First of all, you can come to my sister's gallery opening ceremony and buy a painting."
"that's all?"
That's it. "
"This shouldn't be a problem."
Charles is a completely good person. If he were not in charge of the most FǔBài group of people on Leavenworth, we might become friends. I thought of some other things, and then said, "Also, I want Connor Doz to join the Special Operations Group. I want him to have the status of the FBI."
"This shouldn't be a problem."
There is no word "yes" in the FBI dictionary. "This shouldn't be a question" is the most appropriate answer you can get from them. If they have ever collapsed, this leaves them some leeway, and they often collapse.
We did who, what, when, where, and then I hung up.
I told Caitlin what happened. We plan to meet with the other members of the special team at the Federal Building in downtown Bangor at 9 o'clock. She was on another planet, and I said, "Are you okay?"
Her eyes scanned the room and stopped at my left knee. She said, "I'll be fine. Are we all right?"
I tilted her head, kissed her lips gently, and then left the room. I'm not sure if I kissed her to satisfy myself or her anxiety. This is my own version of "This shouldn't be a problem"
Caitlin took a shower and I ate Lucky Magic Cereal until the box was empty. I heard the sound of the newspaper hitting Caitlin's porch, and then I looked at the clock: 8:08 in the morning.
It's a bit late to read the newspaper, isn't it
Caitlin, like everyone else, subscribed to the Waterville Tribune after last year's events. The newspaper’s current circulation is second only to the Bangorì and the Portland Herald.
I sat down on the second of the three steps, slid the newspaper off the light blue plastic case, and looked at the headline on the front page. Fortunately I sat down, otherwise my knees would bend. The front page title printed in font 7 is:
The framed woman in Maine was found crippled at the anniversary
I started writing this article:
At 11:7 last night, Jennifer Peppers’ mutilated body was found in Thomas Prescott’s house (yes, Thomas Prescott in the infamous murder a year ago) . The body was found in much the same way as the women in the massacre last October.
The remains of the victim Jennifer Peppers, Prescott’s ex-fiancée) were removed and her eyes were removed, prompting Bangor’s chief forensic doctor, Caitlin Doz, to believe that it was Tristan of the mainstream media. Greer did it. The only identifiable difference between the Jennifer Peppers murder and the murder a year ago is that the victim’s eyes appeared on the scene of the crime.
Thomas Prescott said: "He wants us to know that Jennifer watched her death and watched her life be taken away."
The big question is: if they think he is the murderer, who was the nameless one year ago? (To be continued) (End of this chapter)