Postcard killers

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.