Ted Dekker - The Bride Collector

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.

Even with short preparation time, his plan was decidedly perfect. In fact, he now saw that his old one had been somewhat flawed. This latest change had been a providential correction that would result in a perfect union between the final bride and God.

God was good. All the time. So very good. All things worked together for the good of those who loved and served God. Even if they had to sin now and then to show their love. Forgive me, Father.

He checked the rearview mirror and saw the empty driveway, then checked again. And again until he was sure, without doubt, that they were alone out here in God’s country.

Satisfied, he looked at Theresa. “Thank you for helping me out, Theresa.” The jacketed bullet he’d put into her forehead back at the rest stop had made a mess of the seat behind her, but from the front she appeared to be sleeping. Her hat covered the small entry wound nicely. “Sorry about the mess.”

Three black garbage bags covered his own seat, a precaution that would allow him to clean up his own hair and sweat when he was finished with the car.

He retrieved his case from the backseat, closed the door, and walked up to the blue Range Rover. A quick check confirmed that she’d locked the doors, but this wouldn’t be a problem. He intended to take the keys from her.

Leaving the case beside the driver’s door, he headed up to the house. A bird cawed in the branches above him, then another replied, though the second was more of a chirp. He wasn’t crisp on the knowledge of birds, but he could imagine a black bird and a blue bird, the former being larger. When all of this was over, before he was called upon to find another bride for Christ, perhaps in another city, he would spend some time in the forest and learn more about birds. Blue ones, black ones, red ones, all wonderful creatures in God’s country.

Buzz, buzz, the bees were back in his head. The birds and the bees.

He pulled out his nine-millimeter, lighter by two bullets than it had been before he’d borrowed the cops’ car. But it still had nine rounds, and he didn’t think he would need any more.

The front door was unlocked. This was a nice surprise. He twisted the knob, pushed the door open, and stuck his head inside. Just a friendly cop coming in to use the toilet.

A hall ran into the house, empty now. Soft voices floated to him from around the corner at the end. By the luscious scent of freshly baked pastries, he thought mother and daughter were probably enjoying breakfast. He himself hadn’t yet eaten this morning, and although he typically ate only beans after cleansing himself for his task, Nikki was a change in protocol, a gift for a job well done. Everything about her taking would be different. Including what he ate. The pastries were another nice surprise.

Quinton slipped into the house and walked quietly down the hall, pistol by his side. An absurd thought that maybe he should join them for breakfast slipped through his mind, but he knew it was nothing more than a temptation, a distraction from his task, which in the end would be far more rewarding than the consumption of a few pastries.

He walked around the corner and found them sitting at a round table in a sunny breakfast nook. The windows stood in four tall panels with trim that formed square panes in each. Valances topped the glass, a pattern with seed packages, among them corn, sunflowers, and tomatoes, all in all a colorful, cheerful design. The tablecloth was red-and-white checkered-God’s country-farmer decor. Freshly frosted cinnamon rolls rose in a stack between them. Coffee and orange juice, with bacon as well. To a lesser man, a true temptation indeed.

All of this he’d observed in less time than it took the two women to face the cop in the mismatched uniform who’d walked in without knocking.

Quinton lifted his gun. “Please don’t make any noise or I will have to shoot your mother,” he said.

Nikki, the beautiful brunette who was to be the sixth favorite leading up to the seventh and most beautiful bride, wasn’t buying his act. “Excuse me?”

Rather than argue with her, Quinton walked toward them, over to the gray-haired mother, and knocked her out with a single blow to her head. She fell off the chair and landed with a thump.

Nikki had overcome her initial shock and jumped to her feet. She screamed, “What are you doing?”

Quinton pointed the pistol at her. “I don’t want to hurt you. It’s important that you realize that. I really don’t want to hurt you, but there’s been a change of plans and if you try to resist me I will subdue you and then fix you up later.” He took a breath. “So please sit down, Nikki.”