Chapter 2

I was detained for forty-eight hours.

My scrap yard was searched from top to bottom.

The reason the police listed me as a suspect was not only because I had a criminal record—on the day Lily disappeared, she had come to my scrap yard again to sell a piece of “copper,” and she stayed for more than ten minutes.

The police asked me what happened during those ten minutes.

I answered honestly that after Lily got the money, she did not rush off, but instead lay on the broken sofa like a kitten and basked in the sun for a while.

I ate lunch and also served her a bowl.

There was no communication, no conversation, and it was as calm as an oil painting dream that did not quite feel real.

The police probably did not believe me.

But they had no other solid evidence, so they could only let me go after the detention time was up.

That evening, I treated Grace to a meal.

Then I took her taxi to Lily’s house.

It was an old brick house from decades ago, and the rotten wooden door was not locked, so it opened with one push.

Lily’s grandmother was blind and had been hospitalized, so there was no one in the yard, only an empty clothesline swaying back and forth and the pungent smell of leftover paint.

“Grace, do you know who in town sells paint?”

Grace curled her lip. “What, you want to look for that little girl?”

She nagged that this should be left to the police, and that my job was to get married and have a kid while that thing could still be used, so the Carter family could have someone to carry on the line.

Otherwise, in a few more years, I would not be able to have one even if I wanted to.

Once she started talking about it, she never stopped, and it made my head hurt.

Grace was good in every way, except she talked too much.

But while talking, she drove me from place to place where paint was sold.

The next day, I set my eyes on a hardware store.

This place not only sold yellow paint, but also hardware, and a pile of irregularly shaped pieces of iron sat in the corner of the small store.

The owner was a little old, and when there were no customers, he lay in a rocking chair reading the newspaper.

He did not notice me.

I walked to the corner and picked up a piece of scrap iron, but he still did not notice me.

I threw the piece of iron back, making a noise, and only then did he startle and sit up quickly. “What are you doing?”

I chuckled. “Buying some paint.”

The town was not that big, and when he walked closer, he recognized me at a glance.

Then he took out several kinds of paint and introduced them to me.

I chatted with him and brought up my experience of killing someone back then.

That was the biggest piece of gossip everyone in town was curious about.

The owner was very interested, listened with fascination, and even took the initiative to give me twenty percent off.

When I was about to leave with the paint, I changed the subject. “Once paint is opened, you can’t leave it outside, or what if it gets stolen?”

He was eager to hear how I finally stabbed the man to death, so he answered casually and perfunctorily, “Oh, it’s just some busted paint and scrap iron, not worth much.”

I clenched my fist, then gave him a smile that did not reach my eyes. “Better be careful anyway, because the town isn’t peaceful again. Do you know the girl nearby named Lily Moore?”

“She’s missing.”

“No one can find her anywhere.”

The owner said “oh,” then helped me load the paint into the car, no longer listened to my story about killing someone, turned around, went back, and started reading the newspaper again.

But his newspaper was upside down.

I asked Grace to take me to the police station immediately.

“That hardware store owner, Mr. Young, has a problem!”