We’re stuck in Saturday afternoon traffic to and from the main shopping center in Ljubljana, but already near the TV studio, and I’m restless enough about going on live television without the worry in Mark’s voice or Dino here getting cold feet about taking me there.
What neither of them knows is that Hana will also be part of the interview. It will be less an interview and more of a confrontation between us—her accusations against my rebuttals. She’s been ignoring my calls all day, and I need to speak with her.
I believe she may be the killer we’re looking for.
It started as a germ of an idea this morning but has since sprung into more than that. But I’m not ready to tell anyone of my suspicions yet, not until I talk to her. She’s a friend and I could be wrong. I don’t want to jeopardize her career until I figure out if my suspicions are correct. The broad strokes of evidence are there and I will use this TV appearance to see if they line up the way I think they do.
Some of the long absences Hana took from work over the last twenty years align with the killings. Not perfectly, but well enough to perhaps be significant. Then there are periods of intense work in which she published articles at the rate of one a day, sometimes more, in the years when none of the killings occurred.
She’s an intelligent loner fascinated with crime. And she just happened to be the only journalist in the country to have gotten that letter from the killer. That’s odd.
If the killer is trying to communicate with the press, I’d expect him, or her, to contact as many journalists as they can. All of them, in fact. Why single out just one and why pick the one who has only worked sporadically and not at all in the last few years?
And then there’s her anger at me. I could feel it pulsing from every word of the article she wrote. Not to mention the fact that the article came right after I questioned the authenticity of the letter.
And the less tangible sign is that she has covered every one of the stabbings we’re attributing to this killer. Those articles of hers are among the most colorless, monotone pieces she’s ever written, and she never did a single follow-up, except when it was time to do a write up of the trial and sentencing of the supposed killer. Those she covered with a lot more flair than the original death notices. Given that the stabbings were big news when they happened, it’s odd she didn’t delve deeper into them.
In addition to covering most of the major crimes that occur in Slovenia, she also wrote an ongoing series of articles on the effects of mental illness on society and the lives of people who suffer from it.
She strongly believes that not enough is done by the system to help these people and often publicly argued with all sorts of psychiatrists and social workers, especially on Twitter, regarding these issues. She even argued with both the psychiatrists Sojer considers suspects. They both boast a high success rate of helping people with all sorts of mental illnesses, and her main problem with them was that if you’re rich, you can afford them and if you’re poor, then you’re just out of luck. They defended themselves by claiming they help people from all walks of life, but I couldn’t find any actual proof that they do. According to their website, they charge 80 Euros per session, for one thing.
All the victims of the killer we’re looking for battled mental illnesses that prevented them from living a normal life and all could be considered as belonging to at least the middle, if not the upper, classes. They received all the treatment they needed and yet they still didn’t get better. Maybe that’s what angered her, so she killed them.
I don’t want to be right. I’m having a real hard time even thinking I might be.
But all those signs just keep jumping out at me and I can’t ignore them.
We’re nearing our destination. Soon I’ll have to face Hana and find out if I’m right, or completely wrong. I can already see the domed roof of the network’s studio and a few moments later, Dino pulls into the parking lot. Hana is standing by the stairs leading into the main building, huddled up in her long coat with the large silvery grey cap hiding her hair and her eyes fixed on our car.
“Is that her?” Dino asks as he stops beside the stairs.
“Yes, and she doesn’t look pleased to see me,” I say.
“You can say that again,” he says. “If looks could kill… let’s park and then I’ll walk you into the building.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “I’ll see you inside.”
I open my door and begin the slow process and climbing out of Dino’s small car, given my bulk. The fact that my daughter is doing what feels like full-on back flips in my belly isn’t helping either.
“I don’t know,” Dino says. “Mark would—”
“It’s fine, Dino,” I say.
A security guard is at the top of the stairs, and the host who’ll be conducting our interview is standing just inside the sliding door that leads into the studio. I will be fine. And I can’t wait to have a chance to speak to Hana alone. She’s still just glaring at me, the anger in her eyes sharp, pointy and growing stronger.
“I’m glad you decided to come, Hana,” I say to her as I slam the door of Dino’s car shut. “I was beginning to fear you were too embarrassed to face me after all the baseless crap you put in the article.”
She jerks like she’s about to attack me but disguises the action by pulling off her hat instead.
“Baseless crap?” she says indignantly. “Every word of that article is fact. You can’t deny it.”
I’ve had all day to calm down and process all the things she accused me of, so while upsetting, her accusations no longer have the same bite they did this morning.
“You know very well you just wanted to take a stab at me,” I say. “What I want to know is why?”
“Now, now, ladies,” the host says cheerily as he descends the stairs. “Why don’t we discuss all this inside?”
Once we're live, he means, if his wide grin and sparkling eyes are anything to go by.