The Bride Collector

by Ted Dekker

  What are you looking for, Paradise? A lover?

  “Pathetic!” She growled more than said the word, and the others looked at her.

  “We are?” Andrea asked.

  “No, not you. Keep going, I’ll be right back.”

  She had to put an end to this or risk flipping out, because if she did that, Andrea would snap and it would be over.

  Paradise marched up to the open doorway and stepped in. Brad was seated on one of three couches that formed a U for group therapy. He saw her and sat up.

  “Okay, Frank. Anything else, let me know. I’ll call you when I leave.”

  She walked up to the couch and stopped five feet from him as he ended the call.

  “Any luck?” he asked, lifting his eyes.

  Looking at him now, she was certain that she’d made a complete fool of herself with him, prancing around the room like a filly in heat while the big stallion here strutted back and forth. His face, square and tanned, with neatly combed blond hair. Those eyes searching hers, seeing her stringy hair, her short frame, her stubby fingers with chewed-off nails, her white face, which had not once seen a jar or tube of makeup.

  Apes did not marry men, birds did not cohabitate with whales, and men did not like Paradise. Which was okay, because she did not much like men in that way, either.

  “I’m sorry, we can’t do this anymore,” she said.

  Mr. Raines stood up. “They’re giving up?”

  “No. I’m not talking about them.”

  “So…” His eyes twitched, one of those slight movements that signaled he had just caught on to something.

  She spoke quickly, before he could embarrass her. “I know what you’re doing, Mr. Raines. I know you’re toying with me. And I need to confess that I’ve been playing you as well. But now we have to stop.”

  His face drew a blank.

  “Please don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.” She stepped over to the adjacent couch and sat, facing him. “You’re trying to earn my trust so that I can help you. Allison has gone along with the idea because she thinks I need to break out of this shell that has me trapped. She thinks you might be able to win my trust, and if so, you would be the first man from the outside to do so.”

  He swallowed, looking guilty, and sat back down. “No, not entirely. Yes, in part, Allison did say that, but that’s not-”

  “But you need to know, Mr. Raines, that I’ve been playing you as well.”

  He didn’t laugh. He didn’t cross his legs or sigh or condescend to her. In fact, he looked genuinely embarrassed.

  “You should feel shame for what you’re doing, I suppose,” she said, “but I’m guilty, too, so I guess we’re both in the same boat.”

  “I don’t understand, you’ve been playing me?”

  “Normally I would panic if a man showed interest in me the way you have. All those looks and winks… I would normally take off running. Didn’t Allison tell you? Men and I don’t mix too well.”

  “She did say that, yes. But-”

  “Normally I would flip out. But today a woman’s life is at risk and as a group we’ve decided to do our best, no matter what the cost, to save her life. So rather than flip out, which would cause Andrea to quit, you can be sure, I decided to let you play your games with me. And the only way to do that was to let you think you were being successful in accomplishing your goal.”

  After a pause, “My goal?”

  “To win my… my affection. My trust.” She was moving her knees back and forth like a girl who had to use the restroom, and she stopped them.

  For a long drawn-out moment, he just looked at her, face shy and red like a kid caught with his hand in the jar. “I don’t know what to say,” he finally said.

  “Me neither. I’m ashamed to have led you on like that. Honestly, I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never done anything like it.”

  She looked out the window and was struck by the realization that it would all come to an end. The idea of climbing back into her dark hole of loneliness, no matter how safe, terrified her. It wasn’t supposed to go this way! He should be stopping her, saying, No, no. I do love you, I don’t know what has come over me, but you’ve bewitched me. I look into your eyes and am swept away and I don’t know what to do about it!

  But that wasn’t what he was doing. And why should he? She was right. It really had just been a game. A dream. A story. A nightmare.

  She was not the princess. She was the toad.

  “So what do we do?” he asked.

  Paradise turned back to him, struggling not to betray her deep disappointment. “Well, for one, I can’t afford to freak out. Andrea will quit if I do.”

  He looked like he was still at a complete loss. “It’s amazing that you see it that way. I mean, you’re being very gracious. And I’m very grateful. I really… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you through so much. I just… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “It’s okay.” She blew out some air, fighting to control a black cloud of sorrow settling over her. “I just have to figure out how to go back in there and pretend that everything’s okay.”

  “I don’t want you to pretend,” he said.

  “Well, I have to do something. I suppose we could continue the charade. I think I might be able to do that until this is all over.” A foolish notion, but she’d said it already.

  Brad thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think we should do that. I really didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”

  He moved to the edge of his couch and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, very close to her. Then he reached out his hands, palms up, as if inviting her to put her hand in his. Paradise felt her chest tighten with the first sign of panic.

  “Listen to me, Paradise. It doesn’t have to be like this. I know you’re afraid and I would be, too. But I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not sure I could live with myself if I intentionally hurt someone like you. You. Hurt you.”

  She was hearing him, but her eyes were on his open hands and she was wondering if he really did expect her to put her small ugly hand into his large powerful hand. The idea was making her feel nauseated.

  “I don’t think we have to pretend,” he said. “I think that we’re just two adults who both have deep feelings when it comes to other people. I lost someone very close to me a long time ago, and I still can’t get over it. You lost part of yourself a long time ago, and you still can’t get over it. We’re both deeply wounded.”

  Tears filled her eyes, though she tried to stop them.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We don’t need to be like that. Neither of us is ready for the pressure anyway. Let’s just try to help this girl.”

  He was right. He was so right and she loved him for those words. This was just ordinary. She was just an adult. They were two adults trying to save a life and help each other out. What had gotten into her?

  Her tears slipped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

  “Give me your hands,” he said, reaching out, supported by his knees. “Please.”

  She hesitated, then did what she had never done. She reached out and placed her palms on a man’s palms. They were larger than hers by half. And warm. His fingers closed around hers.

  “You want to know the truth, Paradise? The truth is I think you’re an incredible woman.” His voice was low and heavy. “I envy you in more ways than you could possibly know. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything. Seriously, I’m beginning to have my doubts whether Sherlock and Brains can break this down anyway.”

  “Oh they will. Just give them time, they will. They’ll at least figure out what the killer’s jack is.”

  “And what about you? Can you do this?”

  Actually… She could, couldn’t she? The fear she’d felt earlier had somehow dissipated. She felt a bit blue and quite foolish but otherwise comfortable. Maybe Brad had done exactly what he’d set out to do without intending to do it. Maybe he’d just won her
trust in a way no man ever had.

  She looked into his gentle brown eyes, then at his hands, and allowed him to hold on to her. “I’m okay. I can do this. It takes one to know one. Right?”

  Brad smiled. A bright, genuine, loving smile that frightened Paradise for the emotions it evoked. But she immediately set the foolish feelings aside and stood.

  “So let’s try to save her.”

  19

  THE APARTMENT WAS nice enough on its own, but now Quinton had transformed the back bedroom into something majestic. A temple of sorts. The inner courts complete with his own altar.

  Due to his change in plans, he’d decided not to use the barn east of Parker, which might still come in useful for the seventh, most beautiful bride. Instead he had set up in the apartment, hoping that the Rain Man’s idiots would soon crack his jack and find the hole.

  He’d brought the sedated sixth here and injected her with half a dose of benzodiazepine, a psychoactive sedative that would help her accept the truth with less fuss. Then, working efficiently yet quickly, he’d prepared the room, covering the brown carpet with thick clear plastic that could easily be rolled up when he was finished. A gurney with a white mattress sat in the middle of the room. He would take the gurney with him, dressed in the same white smock he’d worn when wheeling the bride in. No one had seen, but the precaution was necessary.

  His case and the tool he would need rested atop a folding table along the right-hand wall. Two posts that he’d secured with drywall anchors protruded from the adjacent wall, precisely five feet from the ground. The body had to be positioned evenly, not cockeyed, so he always measured the height of each peg.

  Once the bride hung in place and was glued to the wall, Quinton would arrange each and every appendage for optimal beauty. Like adjusting the bride’s dress just right before she walked down the aisle. He removed all of her outer clothing, leaving her only in her underwear, facing the ceiling. Using a gauze pad, he cleaned the blood from the wound on her cheek where she’d crashed into the door. He used superglue to seal the gash, a trick that worked surprisingly well.

  The makeup took him another half hour, beginning with a foundation that matched the color of the soles of her feet. With meticulous care he applied eye liner and mascara. Then a hint of blush. When he was finished, her face looked lighter than the rest of her body, but that would soon change.

  Quinton stood back and looked at her, awed at God’s handiwork in creating such an exquisite being. If he could be reincarnated, he would certainly wish to come back as a woman. As a bride. And he would grow up dreaming of one day being chosen in this exact manner.

  Normally he had no need for electricity, preferring battery-operated devices that were just as functional, but since he had power, he plugged in a fluorescent strip lamp with yellow plastic over the bulb and set it on the table. It filled the room with an atmospheric golden hue that she might appreciate when she awoke.

  Quinton’s final preparation was to prepare himself. Having already bathed earlier in the day, he now stripped off his clothes except for his black leather shoes, his socks, and his black Armani Exchange underwear.

  He already wore black gloves, but changed out the leather ones for rubber dishwashing gloves. Ordinarily he would wear a shower cap, but because he’d covered the entire floor with plastic, he opted for fashion over function this time.

  Satisfied that all was in order, he pulled up the folding chair, sat down, and waited for the bride to awaken. It shouldn’t be long now. She was stirring already, and he’d only given her half a dose of the sedative.

  It was all business from here on in. He was only the messenger, come with good tidings for the lucky chosen one. A steady buzzing rode the bottom of his brain, and he knew that was because his mind was being stretched to its human limits. The doctors might call it a symptom of a psychotic break, but they were dim-witted and knew little about the true nature of things.

  Ninety-eight percent of the world’s six or so billion inhabitants could apply common sense to the most fundamental, obvious observations of human existence and conclude that a higher power existed. Yet few of the self-proclaimed experts called psychiatrists could see the same thing. So then, were the six billion mentally ill, or were the few psychiatrists mentally ill?

  Both, for the most part, but that was another story.

  The story today was Nikki, the sixth favorite, chosen for her inner beauty, her outer splendor, and her relationship to Rain Man, the devil who was trying to blot out the sunshine.

  And now Nikki opened her eyes. Quinton stood and waited for her to orient herself. He tied her wrists and ankles to the gurney’s aluminum frame using cloth strips. Slowly her eyes widened as awareness dawned.

  “Hello, Nikki.”

  She turned her head in his direction, took one look at his nearly naked body, and tried to scream through the duct tape covering her mouth. Her legs and arms jerked, but the cloth strips held her securely.

  “Sh, sh, sh. Don’t get yourself all flustered. I’ll just have to give you more drugs and do this without your participation.”

  She quieted, eyes frantic.

  “I would like to talk to you. We should have a dialogue, because I think I can help you see some things more clearly. But we can only do that if you promise not to start hollering. It’s unbecoming for a person of your stature.”

  She didn’t react.

  “Do you know who you are?”

  Her eyes searched the room, then returned to him. She shook her head.

  “No, so few people know who they really are. I want you to listen to me carefully. Then we can talk, okay? You can nod your head.”

  She did.

  “Okay, good. Do you believe in God?”

  She nodded.

  “Really? It’s no wonder he chose you. Do you believe he is infinite?”

  Another nod.

  “And that he is a God of love?”

  Yes.

  This was a surprise. Perhaps too good to be true. He wouldn’t have pegged her, being a shrink, as someone capable of faith, much less understanding love.

  “You’re sure? It’s one thing to believe in God, but an infinite God of love is quite another thing. You really believe this?”

  Yet another nod.

  He still was having difficulty believing her, so he pressed it further.

  “Do you go to church?”

  This time she tried to respond through the tape but only muffled nonsense came out. She shook her head. No. So then, she was telling the truth.

  “You don’t bow your knees with the mentally ill hypocrites who throw the humble to the wolves. Instead you believe in a loving, infinite God. Is that right?”

  A muffled yes. Quinton believed her.

  “Well. That’s very good. Then it will be pretty easy for you to understand that the love an infinite God of love has for each person is also infinite, right? That there’s no limit to how much he loves you. You can’t say that he loves this one only this much and that other one that much, because in God’s economy his love is unending. Yes?”

  A dip of her chin. He felt quite good about her predisposition to understand, considering her comprehension of the basic facts.

  Quinton paced in his black underwear, using his gloved hands to make each point as he spoke. “This is common knowledge, shared by even dumb priests and pastors. But most clergy do not have the mental capacity to understand what necessarily follows. There is no greater love than infinite love, which is God’s love. When you love someone infinitely, there is no one that you love more. You, Nikki. There is no one that God loves more than he loves you. Do you follow?”

  She stared with plate-round eyes, but he was sure she did follow. Even an imbecile could follow this if they stopped to think a moment. Which didn’t say much for clergy.

  Nikki, on the other hand, was undoubtedly soaking in his wisdom, preparing her heart, letting it not be troubled.

  “You see, everyone is God’s favorite, even the mentally
ill, which is most people, but don’t let me digress. They are God’s favorite, too, all of them. This is possible only because God is infinite and can therefore have more than one favorite without violating the meaning of the term. He can have multiple favorites and each one is truly a favorite, receiving the greatest God has to offer, which is infinite. Follow?”

  He paused but pressed the final point, so eager was he to tell her.

  “The point is, you, Nikki, are God’s favorite.”

  It was a stunning revelation. Every time Quinton wrapped his mind around the notion, his brain buzzed, and now was no exception. He wanted to kiss Nikki, God’s favorite, but he couldn’t risk leaving any of his bodily fluids behind. He would leave the kissing to God.

  “Imagine it. You are God’s favorite. Out of all his creatures”-he spread his hands like a preacher making a grand point-“you are his absolute favorite. Do you know what that means?”

  She was soaking it in, speechless.

  “It means every power in heaven and on earth is perched on the edge of their seats, watching to see what the favorite one, Nikki Holden, will do. Will she respond to her lover’s call? Will she love God in return? Will she be with him for eternity? Or will she spit in his face and turn her back and find another lover? They all want to know, have to know, because you are the one. The favorite. All of eternity past has been waiting for the one God did it all for. Did all for you!”

  He’d said it masterfully. No one could possibly resist the raw reason behind such a delivery of truth.

  “And tonight, you can finally join him, as his bride, to live forever. Imagine that, Nikki. Tonight is your wedding night.”

  The thought made him shiver. He stepped up, worked his gloved finger under the edge of her tape, and-“Not a word, not a sound or I’ll put it back on”-ripped it off.

  She gasped for air and coughed.

  “Are you okay? Would you like some water?”

  She looked like she might cry, but she held herself together and turned her head slightly to face him. Tears were running down her temples. He would have to reapply the makeup when she was gone.