谎言书：08
时间：2017-02-17 05:11:25
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（单词翻译）
13
Timothy rides the brakes, keeping his distance. “Cal, maybe we should wait
back and—”
“That’s my — Someone stole my van from the parking lot. Get us up there!”
We’re barely a few hundred feet away as a uniformed cop approaches the
driver’s-side door of my father’s truck. My dad rolls down his window . . . a
few words go back and
forth1 . . .
“Looks like he’s giving him a ticket,” Timothy says as we slow down and
veer2toward the shoulder of the road. The cop looks our way, shielding his eyes as
we
flick3 on our headlights. I’m too busy rechecking the
license4 plate: M34
DZP. That’s ours.
“How’d he even get it?” Timothy asks.
Thankful that Roosevelt’s safe at home, I open Timothy’s glove box. “You still
have your—? Ah.” Toward the back of the glove box, his metal telescoping
baton5 sits among the mess of maps and fast-food napkins.
“What’re you doing?” Timothy asks as I pull it out and slide it up my sleeve.
“Being smart for once,” I say, kicking open the car door even though we’re
still moving.
“Cal . . . don’t—!”
It’s not until my door smashes into a concrete barrier that I realize what he’s
warning me about. The car jerks to the left and
rumbles6 over what feels like a
speed bump. I was so busy looking at the van, I didn’t even see that we were
Just beyond the short
overpass10, Timothy pulls back onto the shoulder of the
road,
flicks11 on his own blue lights, and stops nearly fifty feet behind the van.
He knows what happens when you surprise a cop.
“Hands!” the cop yells, pulling his gun as we both get out of the car.
“Federal agent! ICE!” Timothy shouts, flashing his
credentials12 and sounding
plenty annoyed.
He’s not the only one. “What the hell’re you doing with my van!?” I shout,
“W-Was I speeding?” my dad asks, panicking through his open window and
not seeing us yet.
The cop smiles to himself and raises his gun toward my father. “Please step
out of the truck, Mr. Harper.”
“I — I don’t—”
“I’m not counting to three,” the cop warns as the hammer cocks on his gun.
My father opens his door and climbs down from the cab, his face lit by the
pulsing blue lights. “Cal? What’re you doing here?” he stutters.
Behind me, Timothy freezes.
On my right, just as I pass the open door of my van, there’s a low roar that
rumbles like thunder. I turn just in time to see a
snarling14 brown dog with
pointy black ears and pale yellow teeth.
“Stay, Benoni,” the cop warns, never lowering his gun. With his free hand, he
shoves my dad toward me. The movement’s too much for my father, who
bends forward, holding his side.
As the cop finally turns and points his gun at all of us, we get our first good
look at him. The headlights of the van ricochet off his grown-out
copper15 red
between his thumb and pointer finger. “Nice to finally meet you, Cal. You
should call me Ellis.”
14
“Wait — Okay, wait — Why would—?” I look around at my dad and Timothy,
at this guy Ellis and his gun, and at the attack dog that’s perched in the front
seat of my van. “What the crap is going on here?”
“Ask your father,” Ellis says. “Though good luck in getting the truth.”
“Me?” my dad asks, fighting to stand up straight but still holding his side. “I
don’t even know who you—”
“My father was a
liar19, too,” Ellis says, pointing his gun at my dad. “He lied
like you, Lloyd. Easily. Without even a thought.”
“Cal, I swear on my life, I’ve never seen this man.”
“That part’s true. You can tell the way his left hand’s shaking,” Ellis agrees as
my dad grips his own left wrist. “But I saw you tonight, Mr. Harper. The way
your son came to your aid, taking you to the hospital: He needs to rescue,
doesn’t he? That was pretty fortunate for—”
“Hold on,” I interrupt. “You saw us in the park?”
A chorus of crickets
squeals20 from the Everglades, and my father draws
himself up straight, blocking the headlights and casting a shadow across both
Ellis’s badge and his face.
“Calvin had no hand in this,” my dad says.
“Really? Then why was he so quick to get rid of that hold notice on your
shipment?” Ellis challenges, motioning with his gun. He has handsome,
Windsor knot of his uniform’s tie to the shine on that expensive belt he’s
wearing, he’s got his eye on something bigger. “It’s pretty convenient having
a son who used to be an agent, isn’t it, Lloyd?”
As they continue to argue, my brain
swirls23, struggling to — It’s like trying to
fill in a
crossword24 without any clues. For Ellis to know we got rid of the hold
notice . . . For him to steal my van from the port and bring it out here . . .
That’s the part I keep playing over and over. When I pulled up to the port, I
checked half a dozen times — whoever this guy Ellis is, no matter how good a
cop he is — there’s no way he was trailing me. But if that’s the case, for him
to get my van — Once again, I run through the mental reel. Roosevelt’s at
home, which means there’s only one other person who knew where it was
parked. The one person who picked me up there. And the only other member
of law enforcement who hasn’t said a single word since I got out of his car.
“Sorry, Cal,” Timothy says as he cocks his gun behind my ear. “Once the
twins were born . . . Those
braces29 aren’t gonna pay for themselves.”
15
Hundreds of People’s Choice Award–winning movies tell me this is when I’m
supposed to shake a fist at the sky and yell, “Nooo! Timothy, how could
approached him in the first place. And why I didn’t bat twice when he offered
to
sneak32 me inside the port instead of signing me in and getting a proper
pass. I thought he was doing me a favor. All he was really doing was making
sure nothing linked the two of us together. My heart
constricts33, like it’s being
gripped by a fist. Dammit, when’d I get so blind? I glance at my dad and
know the answer. The only good news is, I
apparently34 wasn’t the only one
Timothy was trying to keep hidden.
“Cal’s already seen it — you, me, all of it!” Timothy shouts at Ellis. “And what
about the van!? What was your grand thinking there? Bring it out on the road
and hope no one notices?”
“Watch your tone,” Ellis warns.
To my surprise, Timothy does, his shoulders shrinking just slightly.
“You said you just wanted the shipment,” Timothy adds through
gritted35teeth, fighting hard to stay calm. “Now you have far more than that.”
The pulsing blue lights pump like heartbeats from both sides. I’m
tempted36 to
run, but that won’t tell me what’s going on. On my right, in the front seat of
the van, Ellis’s dog, protective of its master,
growls37 at Timothy, whose gun is
still trained on me. On my left, my father stares at Ellis, then Timothy, then
back to Ellis.
Then he looks at me.
I see desperation every day. For the homeless, it
overrides38 despair,
depression, even fear. But when my dad’s wide eyes beg for help . . . I’ve
seen that look before — all those years ago when the cops came and arrested
him.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he
blurts39.
Across from us, Ellis pulls the
cuff40 of his shirt out from the wrist of his
uniform’s jacket, then flicks the safety on his gun. “I don’t care. We’ve waited
over a century. I want my Book.”
Just behind me, my father puts a hand on my shoulder. There’s nothing
tender about it. For the second time, I tell myself to run, but the way he’s
gripping me — he needs the handhold to help him stand.
“All you had to do was leave the van downtown!” Timothy says to Ellis. “But
with this — You know how much harder you just made this?” Timothy
explodes, barely looking at us. This isn’t about me. Timothy is the same old
Timothy. Just protecting his share. “Don’t you see? Now that he knows I’m
working with — Sonuva—! You just
wrecked41 my damn life!”
“He’s right,” I interrupt, knowing this isn’t a ride Timothy can afford to let me
walk away from. Time to work the weak spots. “But if I disappear, they’ll go
talk to all my friends, co-workers . . . even former co-workers,” I add, raising
an
eyebrow16 at Timothy. “You’ll get a call tomorrow morning.”
Timothy knows what I’m up to — he had the same hostage training with the
same dumb tricks for getting the bad guys to fight among themselves — but
that doesn’t mean it won’t work.
“You don’t even see it, do you?” Ellis asks, sounding far more comfortable
than he should be. “I’ve already won.”
“Not if there’s a manhunt for Cal’s
killer42!” Timothy shoots back as the blue
lights continue their assault. “You promised me no risk at all!”
“No, I promised you an easy reward.”
While they argue, I work the telescoping baton hidden in my sleeve toward
the inside of my forearm. I’ve heard enough. Time to let actions speak louder
than—
“Be very careful about your next move,” Ellis warns as he points his gun at
my face. I freeze. He’s clearly planning to pull the trigger, but he’s not quite
ready to do it yet. “I can see the baton, Calvin.”
Next to him, Timothy shakes his head, his anger now exploding. “This was so
stupidly easy and — Dammit! How could you be so stupid!?”
The dog barks. But Ellis, who’s now close enough that I spot the odd red
thimble-shaped nozzle on his gun, is calmer than ever. “It’ll work out fine,” he
says.
“For who?” Timothy challenges. “For you?”
Ellis nods, raising his eyebrows. “You were right about the manhunt. But
there’s no manhunt if I give them Cal’s killer.” Without another word, he
points his gun at Timothy’s neck. I want to jump forward, but my body steps
back.
“I have twins! For God’s sake!” Timothy says in horror.
Ellis grins. “It is for God’s sake.”
Fttt.
The dog barks again. A tiny
fleck43 of blood hits my cheek. And Timothy falls to
the ground.
Behind us, at least a mile or two up the road, a set of faint white eyes blink
open. There’s a car back there. Coming right at us.
16
“Ohnonono!” my father stutters, still clutching my shoulder as he stumbles
and pulls us back.
Ellis stares over our shoulders at the car that’s coming our way.
“Hand me his gun,” Ellis says to us as he motions to Timothy, who’s flat on
his back with what looks like a pinprick at his
jugular44. There’s no stream of
blood as his body convulses like a snake and he continues to threaten and
scream. First, Timothy’s left knee freezes awkwardly, cocked out to the side,
then his torso stops moving. In less than a minute, he’s motionless on the
pavement. He looks dead, his gun still clutched in his hand.
“I’m waiting,” Ellis adds, and for the first time, I see the new reality he’s
building. If he shoots us with Timothy’s gun, then leaves my van here along
with Timothy’s unmarked car — now the picture shifts: It’ll look like Timothy
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