The Searcher

by Tana French

He’s always up and down like a fiddler’s elbow,

Cal feels like he ought to stand on a street corner handing out warnings, little pieces of paper that just say: Anyone could do anything.

It’s the sweet warm wave of astonishment that, just for once and out of the blue, the world is feeling generous to you today.

“Morals,” he says in the end, “is the stuff that doesn’t change. The stuff you do no matter what other people do. Like, if someone’s an asshole to you, you might not be mannerly to him; you might tell him to go fuck himself, or even punch him in the face. But if you see him trapped in a burning car, you’re still gonna open the door and pull him out. However much of an asshole he is. That’s your morals.”

Cal learned a long time ago never to underestimate the spectacular natural wonder that is people’s stupidity.