Postcard killers

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 innocent they are."

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.

"So anyway, how are we doing with our journalist's objectivity these days?"

Dessie stood up.

"Shouldn't you go home and get some sleep?"

The phone on the desk rang. Forsberg grabbed it.

"What is it?"

He gestured that Dessie should stay, then listened careful y for more than a minute.

Dessie shook her head to say that she wasn't there and pul ed her knapsack on.

"Just a moment…"

He put his hand over the mouthpiece.

"It's a Danish journalist. He wants to talk to you specifical y. Says it's important."

"I'm not giving any interviews," she said, fastening her helmet strap under her chin.

"I think you should talk to him. He says he received a postcard in this morning's mail – postmarked yesterday in Copenhagen. He thinks it's from 121 the Postcard Kil ers."