—Exactly. How could he be stupid enough to come back for me?
—Do you believe he had an ulterior motive?
—No, he just cared. That’s the thing. You know how I don’t easily trust other people.
—Is there anyone that does not know?
—Well, how could I possibly not trust him now? You know what’ll happen, don’t you? I’ll let my guard down, I’ll say stupid things I’ll regret later, I’ll turn into a fifteen-year-old. At some point, he’ll ask me to marry him, and I’ll be too gaga to get myself out of it.
—Mr. Couture does not seem like the marriage type to me.
—Did you know he’s been shopping for a ring?
—…
—Yep, I was speechless too when I found out. I’ve been acting as caustic as I can under the circumstances. So far, I’ve managed to look ambivalent enough about my feelings to keep him from popping the question.
—Perhaps, deep down inside that rugged shell of yours, there is a little girl desperately waiting for her Prince Charming to propose.
—Of course there is. Only until now, I’d been pretty successful at keeping that little brat’s mouth shut.
—What will your answer be if he asks?
—You’re funny. He can’t ask. I’ll find a way to be bitchy enough for the next forty years so that perfect moment never comes.
—You seem to have a good handle on that little girl after all.
Goodbye, Ms. Resnik.
FILE NO. 360
INTERVIEW WITH UNKNOWN SUBJECT
Location: Embassy of the United States, Dublin, Ireland
—How are you feeling physically? Do you require medical attention?
—I’m OK. Thank you.
—Is there anything I can get you to make you more comfortable? You were exposed to the cold for quite some time.
—I’m fine, really. They let me take a shower and gave me some warm clothes. Thank you.
—Do you know who I am?
—No, I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone in Ireland.
—What are you doing in this country?
—I’ve been kidnapped! Look, I’ve told you people a dozen times already. I don’t know how I ended up in Europe. A truck driver found me on the side of the road this morning—naked, for God’s sake.
—You say you have been kidnapped. Can you tell me how it happened?
—I was driving home from work when this van hit the brakes right in front of me. I crashed into it pretty hard. Someone dragged me out of my car. I must have fainted afterward.
—Where is home?
—I’m an American. I live in Chicago.
—You fainted and you woke up on the side of the road near Dublin.
—Yes…I…Yes, I did.
—What is it?
—I’m not sure. I think I was awake for a few seconds in between. I couldn’t see anything, but I heard some voices.
—How many voices did you hear?
—Four or five. I don’t know. I’m not even sure I didn’t dream the whole thing.
—What were they saying?
—I couldn’t tell. I don’t know what language they were speaking. It sounded like…I don’t know what it sounded like. Maybe Swedish, Lakota with a heavy German accent. I really don’t know. Something I’ve never heard before.
—How do you know what Lakota sounds like?
—I don’t really. Dances with Wolves? It’s the only Native American language I can think of. I was born in South Dakota. There are a few reservations around. Actually, the whole area where we lived used to be Lakota territory.
—You have no papers, no identification of any kind. Is that correct?
—I told you. I was completely naked when I woke up. I don’t know what happened to my bag.
—You should know that the doctors who examined you found no signs of sexual activity.
—Thank you. That’s a relief.
—Can you think of anything that would help us confirm your identity?
—No, not in Ireland. That’s not a crime, is it? If you get me home, you can talk to my friends, people I work with.
—I would like to show you some photos.
—Go ahead.
—Do you recognize the woman in this picture?
—No, I don’t know who that is. She’s pretty.
—How about this man?
—I don’t know him either. Who is he?
—A linguist from Canada.
—A lin…Do you think these are the people who abducted me?
—I do not. In fact, I can tell you without hesitation that they are not.
—Then why show me their pictures?
—To see whether or not you recognized them.
—Is there a reason I should? I can tell you I don’t have amnesia. Aside from the few hours I was unconscious, I remember everything very clearly.
—Can I ask you one more personal question? How old are you?
—I’m twenty-seven.
—For the record, could you please state your name and occupation one more time?
—My name is Rose Franklin. I’m a researcher at the University of Chicago.
—Your DNA profile is indeed a match to that of Dr. Franklin.
—You seem surprised. I know who I am. Can I please go home now? I haven’t fed my cat since I left for work yesterday.
—…Ms. Franklin, from what I understand, that was more than four years ago.
—Wh…That makes no sense. I was kidnapped. I wasn’t in a coma. It’s not like I slept for four years.
—I believe you. Strange as it may seem, there is no accurate scientific method for determining the age of a living person. However, the results of your physical examination and dental X-rays are consistent with your being twenty-seven.
—I know, I told you my age.
—What I meant is that you are missing recent scars and some dental work that was done to Dr. Franklin after the age of twenty-seven.
—I…I don’t understand.
—Dr. Rose Franklin would be thirty-one years old by now.
—What exactly do you mean by “would be”?
—Please come with me, there is much we need to discuss…
À Théodore.
Maintenant, on va t’apprendre à lire…et l’anglais.