AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I exhale loudly once I’m done reading, leaning back in my chair and feeling like I just got the wind knocked out of me.
“If this is for real, then this person is not sane,” I say. “Not even a little bit. Savior of Lost Souls? What does that even mean?”
Deep down, I knew the killer we were looking for was marching to a significantly different tune than the rest of the world. But this? I didn’t expect this.
“You think it could be a joke?” Hana asks. “As in, that this was sent by some random crazy looking for some attention?”
“Could be,” I say and scan the letter again. “It’s certainly very odd and over the top.”
Something is telling me it’s genuine. It’s because it fits. Somehow it echoes the way the victims are posed, and the half smiles on their faces. Could be he or she whispers something along these lines into their ear to make them go still enough for the knife to pierce their heart so cleanly.
Because whatever he says to them has to be profoundly shocking, which this is. I agree with Mark and Ida that anyone would fight on reflex when grabbed from behind.
Hana is gazing at me with a very expectant look in her eyes.
“I think it could be the real deal,” I say. “And I think we need to analyze it right away.”
“I want to print it,” she says. “My editor at Delo says I can have the front page, if the experts and the police think it’s genuine.”
This is quite the scoop and journalist me is now warring with the logic of the investigator, which I’m slowly but surely becoming. On the one hand, I understand what the front page would mean to Hana, especially since she hasn’t worked for a while, but on the other, I don’t think it’s a good idea to shine too bright a spotlight on this killer.
He clearly wants attention. Will more attention bring more deaths? It’s a real possibility, given that he’s already killed out of sequence.
“The police need to see this email and it needs to be analyzed,” I say. “And traced, if possible. I’ll go get our tech expert, see what he thinks.”
Mark’s called a few times and I need to call him back, while Sojer or Brina need to inform the local authorities about this development. The last thing we need is for them to read it in the paper tomorrow morning. I also need to silence the loud journalist voice in my head, which is already listing and expounding on all the ways I will respond to this letter when it comes time to give my on the record comments on it. But we’re not there yet.
“If you must,” Hana says, and I get up and walk as fast as I can to the back.
Rok’s computer room is as stuffy as always, the blackout curtains making it perpetually dark. It smells of stale coffee, old salami and something sweet, and I startle him by just barging in without knocking. He’s not alone. Brina is sitting next to him in the dark, wearing her long winter coat and they both turn to me as I enter.
“We might have something,” I say. “A letter from the killer. Follow me.”
I turn and stride back to the main part of the office, only realizing how afraid I’ve been that Hana would be gone by the time I returned once I see her still sitting there by the table.
The main room is still only lit by the blue night lights and coupled with the screen light reflected on her face, she looks like she’s underwater too.
Brina flips on the light switch as she follows me into the room, making Hana blink at us both.
“Hey, did I see you last night near the train station?” I ask. “While I was in that gift shop on the corner of Miklošic Street?”
The question just popped out of my mind as soon as I saw her face clearly in the light, before I even fully decided to ask it.
She grins, looks down at her hands, then up at me in a weird imitation of a child caught doing something naughty. “Yes. I’m sorry. I should’ve come up to you then, but I just didn’t want to seem too pushy. You’re so famous now and I didn’t want to appear like I was using our past friendship to get an interview from you.”
That makes little sense, since doing favors for your friends is the life blood of journalists.
Rok joins us by the table too. He’s looking at Hana with a focused, slack-jawed expression on his face, while Brina keeps glancing from me to Hana and back, probably waiting for the right moment to cut into the conversation.
“Have you been following me around?” I ask Hana, and she giggles and shakes her head.
“No, I’m not some lunatic,” she says. “I was walking home and saw you in that store. Or thought I saw you, so I stopped to get a better look. And I chickened out when you noticed me and just ran away. I’m sorry. I could’ve handled it better.”
This is so at odds with the Hana I used to know. I clearly remember she was never afraid of getting into anyone’s face about literally anything, and she certainly wasn’t shy about asking for things.
“This is Brina,” I say. “She works here and also for the NPB. Please show her the letter.”
Hana gives me a sharp look, the smile suddenly gone from her face, but she vacates her chair to let Brina sit down in it. Rok also approaches the computer and together they read the letter in silence. Several times, since it takes them a good three or four minutes, during which Hana is not meeting my eyes and has her arms wrapped very tightly around her chest.
