The Bride Collector

by Ted Dekker

  “I have to take a shower, Paradise.” Andrea’s face wrinkled in pain. “I feel dirty.”

  “Then you’ll have to go on your own.” Her tone softened. “Our guest is depending on us to help him.”

  This was like playing a game with children. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was some kind of rivalry brewing here. Surely not over him…

  “Paradise?”

  “Thank you.” She looked up at the three notes pinned to the right of the map. “It’s painfully clear that the Bride Collector is psychotic. He sees himself as God’s messenger, thwarting a terrible evil. It’s the most common kind of delusion suffered by even the most intelligent psychotics. Thoughts of grand plots to upset the war between good and evil invade his every waking moment.”

  “This is more the who,” Roudy said.

  “No, this is the why,” she returned. “Let me finish.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Sorry,” Andrea said. “Sorry, sorry.”

  “As I was saying, the Bride Collector is doing the right thing in his eyes. He knows he’s evil, and thinks of himself as a demon who is enslaved and tasked to find the bride of Christ. This is why, Roudy. He is taking these women because God has chosen them, through him. If he decides, it’s God’s decision.”

  Her theory was similar to Nikki’s, but somehow more complete and certain. And with only a few minutes’ exposure to the evidence.

  “What else?” Brad asked, fascinated by her insight.

  Paradise stared at the victims spread like angels on the wall of each crime scene. A tear from her right eye ran down her cheek. She walked up to the wall and traced the picture of the latest victim, whom she’d seen in person two days earlier.

  “In his mind, taking their lives is a necessary act. He does it for their sakes as much as for God’s purpose. There’s no anger. No revenge. He wouldn’t take someone because he’s angry with them.”

  “So he wouldn’t kill a victim out of, say, spite.”

  “No,” Roudy said. “If you don’t mind me interjecting.”

  “Go ahead, Roudy.” Brad walked up behind Paradise. The scent of her shampoo lingered in the air. She glanced up as he came close, then quickly looked at the wall again.

  “The question is, Who’s next?” Roudy said. “We must fixate on that question. Who, who, who, not just the why. And I do have a theory.”

  The man seemed to be contradicting himself. “Do you mind if Paradise finishes?” Brad said, looking down on her dark hair. It was parted in the middle and ran in long strands down either side of her head, recently combed but unevenly cut and with split ends.

  “Don’t delay me much longer, Agent Raines. I have some light to shed here!”

  “Of course. But I think Paradise has hit on something crucial.” He was deferring to her in part to show her a preference that would earn her trust, but it wasn’t all posturing on his part. Her analysis really was quite amazing.

  “Don’t forget about me,” Andrea said, stepping up on Brad’s other side. He ignored her for the moment, at a loss.

  “Please continue, Paradise.”

  She looked up into his eyes, and again they shared a moment of connection. “Thank you,” she said.

  Then, frowning at the wall of pictures: “No, I don’t think the Bride Collector would kill someone just to hurt that person. I don’t think he’s wired that way.”

  “Be quiet!” Andrea whispered, looked at the corner. “I will.” Beat. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry.”

  They ignored her.

  “But he would see you differently, Mr. Raines. You’re not a woman. In his mind, you’re the one trying to stop him from doing God’s will. If he’s evil, you are even worse. And he will try to stop you.”

  “How?”

  “He’ll try to kill you.”

  The room went silent. A hand gently touched his right palm. Andrea slipped her fingers into his hand. He felt frozen, standing with Paradise on his left engrossed in the case, and Andrea on his right obeying the voices that had told her to win his affection. It couldn’t be…

  But one glance into Andrea’s big blue seductive eyes, and he knew it was. He’d never been hit on so blatantly by such a stunning woman, any woman for that matter. She clearly didn’t have the social sensitivities that kept most men and women at arm’s length. Brad tried to pull his hand free and had to tug to accomplish separation. Her face fell, then twisted in pain. “I need to take a shower, Paradise! I need to take a shower right now!”

  “No, it’s okay, Andrea,” Brad said. Then he said something he was sure he’d regret later, but saying it felt right. “I need to… stay with Paradise, okay? Maybe Casanova can help you out.”

  She stepped back, horrified. “Cass? Cass is a dirty old man!” she cried. “Is that what you have in mind? Are you going to rape Paradise? Is that it, FBI, are you going to take advantage of her when no one is looking?”

  “That is totally inappropriate!” Paradise said, brushing past Brad. “Totally. Stop listening to Betty or whoever is whispering that nonsense into your ear. I know you are used to being the center of attention with all the men, but it’s not always all about you. So stop this.” Then she added, as if to make sure she wasn’t misunderstood, “We have a woman to save here. And Brad’s life might be in danger. He’s the victim here, not the criminal.”

  “My, my, my, this won’t do,” Roudy said, massaging his scalp. “They’re waiting for my report!”

  Paradise quickly pulled Andrea back in, speaking with the skill of a seasoned counselor. “We need you, Andrea. None of us can read the tea leaves the way you can. There’s a pattern here. Roudy is right about that. There’s a jack in the whole and you may be the one to help us find it, so please, please don’t listen to Betty.”

  A jack in the whole? “What jack in the whole?”

  “A pattern,” Roudy said. “That’s my point. He left us with a jack in the whole.”

  16

  QUINTON GAULD LOVED the feeling of doing what was right even if the potential cost was high. All of God’s chosen paid a price at some point in their lives, and his day to burn at the stake would also come. But as long as he was playing the role he was destined to play, he could revel in his higher calling.

  A buzz swept through his mind, and he shook it free with a grunt. Preachers were idiots. Churches were dens of thieves. They talked about love and forgiveness, then turned their backs on any who fell short of the glory of God. Didn’t they realize that they were all snakes, all needing love and forgiveness? Were the Swaggerts and the Haggards any different from the pew sitters?

  Hypocrisy was a form of mental illness. And, like the mentally ill, hypocrites were unable to see their own illness. It was no wonder God had rejected them as the bride. Depart from me for I knew you not, you snakes. I will spew you out of my mouth.

  He shook another buzz from his head and blew some air out to ease the tension. Let not your heart be troubled. The bride is waiting and I will deliver her to her husband.

  Feeling once again uplifted, Quinton brought his mind back to the task. He’d left his 300M back at the rest stop beside the eighteen-wheeler and now drove the police cruiser. It had taken a bit of doing to make his intention clear to Rodger, the policeman. The man didn’t want to give up his uniform, and Quinton needed it. He’d shot the man in the head and stuffed him into the trunk.

  On the bright side, the man’s square sunglasses were stylish and his uniform fit Quinton well except for the length of the inseam. Rodger had been a good-size man with sawed-off legs and Quinton had opted for his own slacks rather than look like an utter fool. Above the waist, he was practically Rodger’s twin.

  The blue Range Rover that he was following turned off at the first Castle Rock exit. Within half a mile the traffic on the narrow road had fallen behind. Tall pines reached for the sky on either side, providing all the cover he could hope for.

  The SUV pulled onto a dirt road and headed up a long driveway that ended at a lone house built into the
trees. One of those classy log homes with large windows. There was evidently some money in this family. He followed the Range Rover in, then parked twenty yards behind it.

  He glanced at Theresa, who sat next to him, facing forward. “This is it, Theresa. I need your help now. No talking, not a word. You sit there and look like nothing in the world is wrong, and maybe God will have mercy on you.”

  The woman climbed out and waved. Quinton smiled and waved back.

  “Everything is going to be just fine, Theresa. Not a word, not even a sharp breath. You know I have to do this so that there will be no witnesses. I just can’t afford to leave a woman who’s seen me alive. It’s only one more life, and it’s distasteful, but what’s a man going to do?”

  Forgive me, Father for I will sin. I will now sin.

  PARADISE COULDN’T REMEMBER ever feeling the kind of elation she’d experienced these past few minutes.

  She’d started as the skeptic who felt tricked into meeting with Mr. Raines yet one more time, as if the wound they’d opened now required some salt to aggravate the pain. But her feelings had changed slowly, starting early with the way Brad had looked at her as if he was the one who felt awkward for coming again. It had taken half an hour and a dozen stolen glances to convince herself that he really was uncomfortable.

  Now, whenever she wrote a story, the character who averted his eyes and blushed, however faintly, was either guilty of some sin or felt he had been outdone. If her judgment was any good, and it was, Brad felt subservient to her. An irrational idea, but there it was, on his face, like a mustache of white betraying the person who’d been in the milk jug.

  Roudy went on about the case, hopping around with the pictures, and all the while Paradise was lost in thought, trying to figure out what had gotten into Brad, this tall, exquisitely fashioned man who looked too good to be any good at all. Why did his eyes shift when she looked at him? Why did he offer shy, awkward smiles as if they shared some deep secret?

  Slowly she’d come to the only conclusion that made any sense to her. Brad liked her. Not in a romantic way. But enough to feel nervous around her. He might even be-and this was really absurd-he might even be awed by her.

  Suddenly it occurred to her that maybe her mental illness was worse than first assumed. Had she finally suffered another psychotic break? Panicked by the idea, she determined to test her insecurities.

  Her test had started with a long stare, right at him. He’d blushed. Disbelieving, she’d forgotten to break off her stare and he’d looked back. They were locked in a kind of embrace with their eyes.

  Paradise thought about fleeing the room. Instead, like a metal dust drawn to a magnet, she’d taken it farther. And so had he, she thought. He was responding the way she thought someone who liked a girl might, and she didn’t know what to do with the idea. But she did like it. Yes, she liked it more than she thought she should.

  She felt a bit dizzy. Light, like a balloon.

  And then Brad had dismissed Andrea and chosen Paradise, and her world was transformed.

  He’d walked up behind her and her mind was spinning with story-daring, forbidden tangles of love. He kept saying her name. Paradise. Paradise. And then she’d seen Andrea try to steal him away. Watched from the corner of her eye as she took his hand. Saw him pull away.

  Heard him say those words. I need to stay with Paradise.

  Paradise began to float. She could hardly contain her enthusiasm, however pathetic it was, however angry she tried to be at herself for feeling that way.

  “Why don’t you tell him, Andrea?” she said, trying to shake the feeling. “Cards are really your field of expertise.” They weren’t, but she didn’t need Andrea to pop her balloon now.

  “Jack in the whole?”

  “I could explain,” Roudy said. And then did, before Andrea could. “A jack in the whole is one card, a jack, as part of a whole deck of cards. It’s a code breaker’s term used to mean the key that unlocks the puzzle.”

  Brad had never heard such a thing. “The killer’s saying that he’s left us a jack in the whole? A key to unlock his pattern?”

  “That’s right,” Paradise said. She nodded at the third note. “‘Do you want me to hide from you?’ he asks. He has a face card hidden somewhere in all of this evidence. A jack in the whole bunch of evidence.”

  Brad spread his hands in amazement and the left one came close to her, at the level of her chin. She thought about backing up. Instead she stared at it, close enough to reach out and touch if she wanted to.

  “… looked through all of this until I was blind!”

  Strong hands. Clean. Nails cut short. No rings. Andrea had put her hand in his.

  “You’re sure that’s what this means?”

  Paradise glanced up, saw that he’d noticed her stare, and pushed forward, refusing to blush. “That’s what it means to us. But then, we’re all a bit strange.”

  His eyes were bright. “Strange, huh? Then tell me why I’m not seeing strange?”

  “What are you seeing?” Andrea asked.

  “I’m seeing pretty darn smart.”

  “Smart but strange,” Paradise persisted.

  “Smart. Very smart. Interesting. Beautiful. If that’s strange, then I need some of what you’ve got.”

  Andrea was staring at him as if he’d just ripped off his shirt and flexed. But Paradise was grappling with that word beautiful. Who had he been looking at when he said that? At Roudy, right? Not at Andrea. Definitely not at her.

  But it took no brains to know that in Mr. Raines’s world, beyond the fence, Andrea was the beautiful one. Brad might be able to flatter them all with kind words in this zoo, but out there? Andrea got the boys, and Paradise was a joke who couldn’t even make it past the gate.

  “Well, that’s nice of you, Mr. Raines,” Paradise said. “The monkeys in here appreciate such kind words.”

  “Monkeys in here as opposed to the monkeys out there? I’ve been on both sides of the fence and I’m here to confirm the rumor, they are pretty much the same. Some a little smarter, some not nearly as smart, some with dark hair, some with jeans. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

  And this time he was looking directly at Paradise. She blushed.

  “So,” he said, facing Andrea, “what do you make of this jack in the whole?”

  “You want me to find it?”

  “Can you do that?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. It might take some time. I’d have to look at everything.”

  Brad looked at Paradise and winked. “I’m in no rush.”

  It wasn’t meant as anything more than a natural gesture to express friendship, but the wink proved too much for Paradise. She couldn’t remember a guy winking at her. Ever.

  Fighting waves of heat and dizziness, she turned and walked toward the couch. She was having a mild panic attack and she wasn’t sure why. He was a man. She liked him.

  But Paradise couldn’t like men! This was a fact discussed at length during hundreds of therapy sessions.

  “It’s just a matter of finding the pattern,” Roudy was saying. “No one is better at finding patterns than Andrea and me.”

  Paradise eased to her seat, breathing deeply, trying not to appear unnerved. But Brad was suddenly there, sitting down on the couch next to her.

  His knee touched hers. “You okay?”

  “Sure.” But she wasn’t okay. And she wanted to cry.

  17

  THE DAY HAD started out well, a badly needed break after a week of mind bending. Nikki’s mother, Michelle Holden, had suggested she get out of the city for a day. They could do lunch at Pepe’s Grill in Castle Rock, maybe hit the outlet mall and have some ice cream. She needed a new pair of capris.

  Why not? Nikki had thought. There was something therapeutic about sitting on the back porch with Mother, watching tall pines grow and listening to birds chirp. No phones, no orders, no deadlines.

  No victims.

  Brad insisted that her protective detail follow her down;
Castle Rock was only half an hour south of Denver. They were being overly cautious, perhaps, but she couldn’t escape the obvious message hidden in Brad’s actions. If she were Frank, Brad wouldn’t have insisted on the detail, would he? He was ordering the protection because Nikki was the one person who he did have strong feelings for, and the killer’s caution that he be careful who he loved might actually refer to her.

  Brad loved her. He was too confused by his own feelings to know it yet, but she would swear it.

  The cruiser had called her and suggested a break at the rest stop-too much morning coffee. But she was eager to get to Mother’s and told them to catch up with her, which they’d done ten minutes later, flying up behind her like a kamikaze.

  The minute she’d left the highway and headed down into the foothills of Castle Rock, she knew that coming had been the right decision. Amazing how a large forest could swallow life’s most stressing challenges. The towering trees on either side were doing what they had done for centuries. Regardless of any turmoil that came and went, they slowly, majestically inched their way skyward. Now in their shadow, Nikki felt safe.

  She pulled into her mother’s driveway and climbed out. The cruiser pulled up behind and looked settled in. The cops would whittle away the day making small talk, catching up on paperwork, drinking coffee, whatever else they did while keeping an eye out.

  She waved at the driver, who acknowledged her. So, the detail was overly cautious, but she welcomed the added layer of security, especially at Mother’s house.

  Nikki headed up the steps to the front porch, rang the doorbell, and tried the door. Open. She stepped in without waiting for an answer.

  Her mother’s sweet voice called out. “Come in, honey. In the kitchen!” The familiar smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls filled her nostrils. It was good to be home. She should bring Brad by one of these days.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  So good to be home.

  QUINTON GAULD WAITED five minutes, thinking about his good fortune. His decision to take Nikki Holden as the sixth favorite had come only two days ago after Rain Man dragged his fifth favorite out to the loony barn. God could change his mind and so could his messenger, but it meant cutting his planning short. He’d never imagined the chips falling so quickly in his favor. Having pleased God, he could feel his master smiling on him.