Ted Dekker - The Bride Collector

“And nothing about my nonexistent love life. Period. No more questions, period.”

“What?” Roudy cried. “I haven’t even asked a single question. They both got one. I demand an opportunity to cross-examine the witness!”

“No. Absolutely not.”

Paradise stuck to her decision the rest of the day. When Roudy tap, tap, tapped on her door at ten that night, she buried her head under her pillow until he left.

But today was a new day, and she was finally feeling distant enough from her failure to open up. There was, after all, some benefit to being at the center of attention, and her refusal to give them even a snippet of information the prior day had worked all three into quite a tizzy. She was practically a celebrity. They acted as if they’d won the lottery when she announced that she would meet them in Roudy’s office at nine to break her silence.

Now here they sat: Casanova, who was having a bad morning and hardly able to concentrate on their discussion; Andrea, who was sinking fast into a full-blown depressive cycle; Roudy, who sat against the desk like the lion king who had finally found his place, leading the hunt; and Paradise, who had just told them what she could remember and was suddenly wishing she’d kept her mouth shut about her suspicion, however remote, that Brad Raines found her interesting.

“What did I tell you?” Andrea said.

“How many times are you going to remind us what you told her?” Roudy demanded, glaring at Andrea. “We’re faced with the crime of the century here, and all you can think about is whether some high-and-mighty FBI man likes Paradise more than he likes you.”

Andrea poked her head out of her depression and glared back at him. “That’s not true. I’m just more interested in her than I am in some dead girl that none of us knows. Not that I don’t care about the dead girl, but I care more about Paradise. Right, Paradise? That makes sense, right?”

Paradise sighed. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you anything. The truth is, Roudy, this isn’t the crime of the century, at least not as far as we are concerned. The FBI came, they got what they could, which was nothing, and they left. We’re still here. Our lives still go on, here behind these walls. There is no FBI man, not anymore. It’s all past. Gone. Finished.”

In his delusion as a world-renowned investigator, this was impossible for Roudy to comprehend. In his mind, he was all that stood between the killer and the next poor victim.

His face turned red and his jowls shook as he spoke. “How dare you give up on innocent victims who’ve been thrown to the wolves?”

Paradise put her hand on his shoulder. “Listen to me, Sherlock, you’ve been reassigned to a new case. A more important case that involves dozens of victims.”

“Don’t try to tempt me.”

“I am temptation,” Cass mumbled, eyes tilted down, far off.

“I’m not. The choice is yours, but you’re needed elsewhere. If the FBI decides you’re not qualified to lead this other more important investigation, they will let you know. But I think you’re up to it.”

He blinked. “Not qualified? This is a blatant attempt at misdirection.”

“Is it? If the FBI wants you back on the Bride Collector case, they’ll come begging, I can promise you that. But they won’t, because he’s gone. You’re too important for Mr. Raines.” Then she added, as much for herself, “We all are.” She believed that as much as she believed she really was a monkey.

Roudy looked stunned. He settled back, forced to at least consider the possibility.

“Then at least answer my question,” Andrea insisted.

“I will. If we can all promise to move on.”

No one objected, which was a kind of confirmation in itself.

“What question?” Paradise asked.

Andrea glanced at Enrique. She seemed hesitant, which wasn’t like her. “I just want to know, would you have gone with him?”

Gone with him?

“I mean, you know, not like I was saying. But if he…” A tear spilled down her left cheek; she was fighting the downturn. “If he really showed interest in you, I mean real affection, that might be nice, right? Because that’s what she keeps saying.” She motioned at the wall. “That’s what Betty keeps saying.”

Paradise blinked. It was the first time Andrea had said anything positive about this whole thing. “That’s not the point, Andrea. It’s stupid to even think along those lines. That’s their world and this is ours.”

“But I know what it’s like, Paradise. When I was on the outside, before I came here a year ago, I was, you know, quite popular with guys. It’s not just my brains.” Her eyes darted to the wall. “And no, it’s not just my body, either. You’re acting like a baby!” This was obviously said to Betty.

Paradise felt perturbed by this new direction in their conversation. She picked up a Webster’s dictionary from the desk, snapped it open, and showed the spread to Andrea. “How many words are on these two pages?”

A glance told the girl. “Three hundred ninety-seven.”

Paradise closed the book. “You see, normally the kind of people that can tell you that are savants, maybe autistic. They don’t often look like Texas beauty queens who can flirt like cheerleaders. So the boys see you, and they trip.”

“What are you saying? That I’m just a monkey? You always say that they think we’re all monkeys, monkeys, monkeys!” Andrea paced, agitated. “Well maybe we are, Paradise, but I was trying to be nice. Maybe I was wrong, you know? Maybe the FBI man is really a nice guy and he really does like you. Maybe you deserve that. But now you’ve ruined it!”

Paradise was about to snap at the girl, tell her that it was all a horrible fantasy. Her emotions boiled and she was reminded just why she hated men so much. In the end, they dashed hope. They were a curse.

“He likes you,” Casanova said, staring up at Paradise from the couch. “All men want you.” They’d clearly given him more medication than usual, and his eyes looked only half lit.

“Maybe Mr. Raines likes you,” Andrea said.

“You can have him, Andrea. I can’t afford this. My mind can’t take it. Neither, for that matter, can my heart.”

“So you like him, too,” Cass said. “I know what that’s like. Having my heart broken. It happens quite a lot.” He stared at them for a moment, then went back to watching the floor.

“Nonsense. He’s all yours, Andrea. But it won’t matter, they’re gone.”

That seemed to settle the issue, at least for the moment. Roudy was still trying to comprehend the nature of her suggestion that he was needed for a much more important case.

“So, you really think this case is beneath me? Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. The FBI has moved on.”

A voice spoke softly from behind her. “No, Paradise.” She turned to face Allison, who stood in the doorway. No, Paradise?

“I’m afraid the FBI hasn’t moved on.” Allison walked in, watching Paradise with her ever-smiling eyes, and Paradise couldn’t help but think the director was up to something tricky.

“I just got off the phone with Special Agent Raines.”

Paradise found the air heavy to breathe.

“After your help the other day, Mr. Raines and his partner have decided that you offer the Federal Bureau of Investigation their best chance of saving those young women. All four of you.” She looked at the others. “And I think you should help them. It will be good for you, and it could be very good for those young women who will probably otherwise die.”

Roudy sprang forward, fist raised. “We can’t let them down! We must help them. Bring the body, bring the files, bring it all! We’ll put the vermin back into the cage where he belongs!”