"Merry Christmas, Frank."
Why do we always chat on Christmas?
Because no one is close to us except each other.
Either cheating or being cheated.
Carl said that sometimes it's easier to live in a lie.
Isn't it?
If Carl believed Frank, it would be time to capture him twice. The exhausted tone on the phone call on Christmas Eve, desperately trying to give up, but no one believed it. Even the FBI refused to use police to arrest him, even though Frank even told the house number of his address frankly.
"Tell me to stop, Dad, let me stop!"
Father's thin face was printed on the window, a firm silhouette.
"You can't stop."
Everything is done for the father, to recapture everything that was once for him.
But, it’s too far to stop, and it’s too difficult to stop.
After a long hunt, it is not difficult to experience the loneliness of the other party. Carl and Frank, the two frustrated people who had a conversation at Christmas, were like partners in a tacit understanding.
Finally, when Frank stuck the handcuffs on his wrist, he clicked, like a silver bell of Christmas. It should have been the most sincere trust in Carl at that time, because he swears by his daughter that his loyalty to his daughter should be as indestructible as his loyalty to his father.
However, when Carl took him out of the church, he saw an empty and quiet street. There is no police car, no police, no police force as he swears, no danger of "you will die if you rush out".
At this time, in the peaceful choir music, dazzling police lights flickered in all directions, and countless French police officers shouted angrily and stuffed Frank into the back seat of the car. All directions, all are ambushes, everywhere.
"Frank!" Carl called him anxiously from behind the car, "I will definitely extradite you back to the United States, trust me, soon!"
This promise is trustworthy anyway. Frank looked back, and Carl's figure outside the rear window faded away until it disappeared.
Welcome back to the United States.
Welcome to the FBI.
But everything is useless, and my father is no longer alive.
The child who left home could not go back, and the escaped juvenile raised his hands.
"Look, no one is chasing you anymore." There
was silence behind him, and a smooth road in front of him.
Carl waited quietly, like a father tolerating the child who had run away from home.
And Frank is no longer a reckless boy.
Merry Christmas,Frank.
Merry Christmas...
...Dad.
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