Postcard killers

Chapter 88

Dessie was still astonished at what had happened.

When she accepted his invitation to stay at his place, she had made up her mind that nothing like this was going to happen. Her life was so turbulent just now that a messy affaire was the last thing she needed. Probably the last thing Jacob needed, too.

"Wow?" he replied, and smiled.

Now his eyes were warm again, that crazy blue, completely focused on her.

This real y wasn't good at al. How could it be?

She ought to get up at once and leave and face the damn reporters at her house.

Instead she smiled back.

"Dessie," he whispered. "Dessie, Dessie, you're pretty amazing, you know that?"

She felt a warmth spread inside her, out from her stomach, her core.

"Dessie," he said again, this time in a questioning tone. "What sort of name is that anyway? Dessie? "

She cuddled up next to him. He pul ed her closer so that she could rest her head on his chest. She let her fingers play on his skin, smal, featherlike strokes.

"I was christened Desiree," she said, "the least known of the Swedish princesses."

She could see her mother in front of her, Eivor, her dear, sweet mom, born in 1938, the same year as Desiree Elizabeth Sibyl a, the second-youngest of the Haga princesses, the "Hagacesses," daughter of Crown Prince Gustaf Adolf and his wife, Sibyl a av Sachsen-Coburg-Gotha. Princess Desiree was Eivor's great role model, so it was obvious that that was what her daughter would be cal ed.

"It's a beautiful name," Jacob said.

She laughed.

"You can imagine how much fun it was being cal ed Desiree when you're ten years old and living in Adalen. 'Desiree, have you got diarrhea?'"

"Poor Desiree," said Jacob, stroking her hair, then her face, his fingers lingering.

"It was lucky my cousin Robert from Kalix came to visit sometimes,"

Dessie said, lifting her face to look at Jacob's. "Robert was big and strong, and he protected me."

He kissed her, and she felt an immediate little shiver between her legs.

She felt him react the same way.

She rol ed over to sit on top of him and nibbled gently at his earlobe, then his cheek.

If this was wrong, how come it felt so right?

Dessie kissed Jacob's eyes one at a time.

Chapter 89

Friday, June 18

She was woken by a muffled electronic noise. It was coming from somewhere beneath them, and she waited quietly until the a

Careful y she laid her head back on Jacob's chest and breathed in his smel, a combination of sweat and aftershave. Everything was quiet. The sun was already high in the sky, drowning the little room in white light.

Dessie wondered how long she had been asleep.

An hour, maybe two.

She wanted to lie here forever. Never have to get up from this bed or leave this man, never do anything else for the rest of her life but make love to him until the day they died, or possibly until the lack of caffeine made her change her mind.

It would soon be unbearably hot in here. In his cel. That much was a certainty.

She wriggled her way out of his embrace, pul ed herself up on one elbow, and looked at his sleeping face.

He looked so young when his face was relaxed and al his worries were far away.

His hair curled over his forehead and spread out on the pil ow. He couldn't have had it cut for at least six months.

Not since Kimmy. She thought about Jacob's daughter now, picturing her face. How unbearably sad to lose her like that… to outlive your own child.

The electronic noise started up again, longer and more persistent this time.

It was her cel phone.

Damn, it was in her knapsack, which had slid under the bed the night before, during their somewhat chaotic entry into the little room.

She waited until it stopped buzzing. Jacob stirred in his sleep beside her.

She leaned over the edge of the bed, pul ed out the knapsack, and fished out her phone.

One missed cal.

One new message.

She clicked on the message.

It was a news flash from the main Swedish news agency, short and concise as usual.

She gasped, "Oh, no."

Jacob's heavy breathing stopped and she realized he was awake. She'd woken him. She felt his warm hand on her back, a caress that carried the promise of something more.

She turned to face him, meeting his radiant eyes.

His smile faded when he saw the look on her face.

"What is it?" he said. "What's happened?"

Oh god, oh god, how was she going to tel him?

He sat up so abruptly that he hit his head on the top bunk. "Just say it, for 119 god's sake!"

She shrank from his words.

"They're out," she said. "Ridderwal has let the Postcard Killers go free."

Chapter 90

Dessie held her arms out to him, wanting to catch him as he fel into despair at the news. She wanted to hold his face in her hands and reassure him that everything would sort itself out, that this was just a mad, stupid mistake, that Kimmy would get justice and he would be able to move on with his life, and that the rest of his life started right here in this bed with her.

But Jacob leapt up from the bunk, making his way across her and stumbling onto the floor.

He grabbed his jeans, pul ing them on without bothering with his underwear.

"You can't change the decision," Dessie said, forcing herself to sound calm and col ected. "There's nothing you can do about it."

His hair was a mess, stil damp with sweat. His face was almost completely drained of color.

"No," he said, pul ing his black T-shirt over his head. "But I can fol ow them. So that's what I'm going to do, right to the ends of the damn earth, if I'm not there already…"

Dessie sat up in bed now, lifting the covers over her breasts, suddenly very conscious of her nakedness. She felt incredibly vulnerable, too. A little sad.

"They were let out at six this morning, to avoid the media. They could be halfway across the Atlantic by now. They could be anywhere."

He pushed his feet into his shoes without bothering to untie them and tugged his suede jacket on. Then he stopped by the door, hesitating.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean… I'm just sorry!"

The door frame shook as he slammed the door shut behind him.

Jacob is gone, Dessie thought. The policeman is back.

Chapter 91

The newsroom was empty, deserted as though a bomb had gone off inside. Forsberg was sitting on his own behind his desk, half asleep, his eyes rimmed with red, watching a TV screen. His jowls seemed to have grown larger overnight.

"Where is everyone?" Dessie asked, sitting down next to him.

The news editor nodded toward the television.

"The Grand Hotel," he said. "Our favorite kil ers have booked into the honeymoon suite, if you can believe that. The whole of the world's press is there, including al our esteemed col eagues."

Dessie stared at him.

"Are you serious?"

"They're giving a press conference at two p.m."

"The Grand?"

Forsberg rubbed his hedgerow of stubble. He hadn't shaved for three days or more.

"The Rudolphs have decided to speak. They want to tel the world how i

Dessie leaned back in her chair. This had to be a very bad dream. Soon she'd wake up with Jacob's arms around her and the Postcard Kil ers safely locked back away in Kronoberg Prison.

"This is surreal. What in hel are they up to?" she said. "Those bastards are guilty as hel. Now they're holding press conferences?"

Forsberg gave a long yawn.