Postcard killers

Chapter 72

Jacob stepped onto the street. His whole body was numb and felt hol owed out.

He couldn't imagine a worse scenario than these two kil ers walking free.

As if it weren't bad enough that they had kil ed and humiliated their victims, they'd be able to stand there laughing at everyone afterward.

He had to stop himself from kicking over a motorcycle leaning against the wal.

"See you tomorrow," Dessie said, walking past him with her bike helmet in her hand.

"Wait up," Jacob said instinctively, holding his hand out toward her.

"Hold on…"

She stopped, surprised.

He looked at her, his mouth open, apparently not knowing what to say next.

Don't go, I can't stand being alone anymore?

I can't go back to my prison cel at the hostel. Not tonight?

They're laughing at me, can't you hear them laughing at me?

"Jacob," the journalist said, walking over to him. "What's wrong? I mean, I know what's wrong in a particular sense, but what's wrong?"

He made an effort to breathe normal y.

"There are… a few things I've been wondering about. Have you got a couple of minutes?"

She hesitated.

"It won't take long," he said. "You've got to eat anyway, haven't you? I'l pay tonight. I'l even make an effort to be civil."

"I'm so exhausted. I need to go home. We can get something along the way."