The Postcard Killers - James Patterson [58]
“Yes,” he whispered, weaving his fingers through hers. “Yes, I did. It was just her and me…”
Dessie kept hold of his hand.
He stared out through the window, seemingly losing himself in his memories.
She looked at him and wondered what he was thinking.
“What happened to her mother?”
“Lucy? Yes, I’ve often wondered that, too.”
He pulled back his hand. The air in the restaurant suddenly felt cold on her skin.
He met her eyes and gave a little smile.
“I wasn’t the one who leaked that stuff to the Dagens Eko,” she said.
“I know that perfectly well,” he said, emptying his glass. “It was Evert Ridderwall.”
She blinked.
“What makes you say that?”
“He’ll change with the wind,” Jacob said. “He doesn’t have any principles, he just wants to avoid criticism. That leak was a test. He wanted to see what the media think of the Rudolphs.”
His knee ended up between hers under the table.
Neither of them changed position.
“Did you hear who they want as their lawyer?” Dessie said, emptying her second glass of wine. “Andrea Friederichs.”
“And?” Jacob said, filling her glass.
Dessie took a deep sip.
“She isn’t an expert on criminal law. She’s a copyright lawyer. Doesn’t that seem a bit strange to you?”
Chapter 86
THE MEDIA CROWD OUTSIDE Dessie’s front door hadn’t gotten any smaller. It actually seemed bigger. It was starting to resemble the mob that gathers outside courtrooms for notable court cases in New York. Jacob knew all about them. He’d had to fight his way through a phalanx of reporters and microphones on numerous occasions.
“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “I take it they aren’t hungry yet. Nobody’s leaving.”
She was standing close to Jacob, hiding behind him so as not to be seen from the top of the narrow street.
He resisted an impulse to push a strand of hair away from her face.
“I don’t know that I want to see myself darting into a doorway in all the papers and newscasts tomorrow,” she said in a low voice.
“No need,” he said.
She looked at him with her big eyes. He took a deep breath before going on.
“My roommate has gone back to Finland. You can have the lower bunk in my cell on Långholmen. It’s not a problem.”
He said it in a light, joking way, careful not to show any feeling. It’s not a problem.
She hesitated a few seconds before answering, her eyes still on his.
Then she made up her mind. “Okay,” she said and turned her bicycle around.
It started to rain as they passed the Zinkensdamm metro station, almost halfway to the hostel.
They started walking quickly. Jacob turned up the collar of his suede jacket, but the water still trickled down his back. He shivered in the cold.
“I can give you a ride if you like,” she said. “If you have the guts to get on.”
“On the bike?”
She nodded. “Of course. Only if you dare.”
He sat on the narrow luggage carrier at the back, holding on to her hips with both hands. She set a good pace, and they flew past a large church with two identical spires. Her thighs moved rhythmically and methodically. She was strong and obviously in good shape.
He was suddenly overwhelmed with a memory of Lucy. She had once given him a ride like this in Brooklyn, a hundred years ago, a thousand years ago, before Kimmy, before the drugs and adulthood with all its complications came into the picture and shattered a perfect life for all of them.
He jumped off as Dessie rolled into the parking lot in front of the youth hostel.
“What are the rules?” she asked, taking off her helmet. “Are you allowed lady visitors in your room?”
“I’m not about to ask for permission or about any rules,” Jacob said. “I’m a big boy now.”
“Are you?”
He pulled her to him, her body shaping itself to his. Her hair smelled fresh, like fruit again. He closed his eyes and felt her warmth through his jacket. She breathed lightly against his neck.
Then he kissed her.
She tasted of rain and corn on the cob.
Chapter 87
THEIR CLOTHES ENDED UP in a heap just inside the door of the former