Thr3e

by Ted Dekker

shrilly.

What wants to be filled but will always be empty? A vacant warehouse.”

All of his riddles have been about opposites. Things that aren’t what they want or seem to be. Night and day. Buses that go around in circles. A warehouse that is designed to hold things but is empty.”

The plastic Mountain Dew bottle thumped quietly against the entry door.

Sam eased the plastic bottle aside with her foot,

Whoosh, whoosh.

THERE WAS NO BOMB

Is caps lock a lazy way to grab attention?

Jennifer approached him, dressed in a blue suit, hair flowing around her shoulders in the warm breeze. “Are you okay?” she asked.

agree for you to disappear. In fact, you do nothing unless we agree you do it. I can’t do this without you, and I certainly don’t need you following someone else’s lead.” An unreasonable sorrow swept over Kevin. He felt a knot in his throat, as if he might cry, right here in front of her. Again. Nothing would be so humiliating. “I’m sorry. Sam said—” “I don’t care what Sam tells you. You’re my responsibility, not hers. Heaven knows I need all the help I can get, but until you hear differently from someone besides Sam, you follow my lead. Regardless of whose idea it is, you talk to me. Okay?”

“Okay.” She sighed and closed her eyes momentarily. “Now what did Sam suggest?” “That I should do everything you say.” Jennifer blinked. “She’s right.” She looked past him at the warehouse. “I want this creep as much as you do. You’re our best shot . . .” She stopped.

She held his eyes with her own. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I just . . . I’m not going to let him get to you. He killed my brother, remember? I lost Roy, but I’m not going to lose you.”

Jennifer dropped her eyes to his mouth and took a deep breath. “So. You saw him.” He nodded. She glanced back at the door. “He’s progressing.” “Progressing?” “He wants more. More contact, more danger. Resolution.”

Liked him? How could he know whether she liked him? You see, Kevin. That’s the way first-class losers think. They have no shame. They find themselves pinned down by an assassin’s knife and their mind is drawn to the FBI agent they’ve known for all of three days. Two days if he subtracted the day he ran off with Sam, the stunning CBI agent.

This romance is garbage.

Pow, pow, pow. I’m gonna put a slug in your filthy heart, you lying sack of maggot meat. Two can play this game, baby. You picked the wrong kid to tick off. I bloodied your nose once; this time I’m gonna put you down. Six feet under, where the worms live. You make me sick, sick . . .

I’m gonna put a slug in your filthy heart, you lying sack of maggot meat? What was that?

He lay smothered by her for a few long seconds. Screams rolled across the lawn. Jennifer pushed herself halfway up and looked back. Her leg was over the backs of his legs and her hand pressed into his back for support. Kevin twisted and followed her gaze.

THE LIBRARY EXPLOSION on the heels of the bus bomb put Long Beach at the world’s center stage.

Still, he was an integral part of the investigation, and she couldn’t avoid him once he finished his rounds with the press. “You knew this was coming?” he demanded. “Not now, Milton.” He took her arm and steered her away from the onlookers, squeezing with enough force to hurt her. “You were here. That means you knew. How long did you know?” “Let go,” she snapped. He released her arm and glanced over her shoulder, smiling. “The word negligence mean anything to you, Agent Peters?” “The word carnage mean anything to you, Detective Milton? I knew because he wanted me to know. You didn’t know about the library because he said that if you were told, he’d blow the building early. In fact, he did blow it early, because you had to announce to the world that we’d found Kevin. You, sir, are lucky we got out when we did or you’d have at least two dead bodies on your hands. Don’t ever touch me again.” “We could have put a bomb squad in there.” “Is there something with the air down here that messes with your hearing? What part of ‘he told us he’d blow the building early’ didn’t penetrate that thick skull of yours? You almost killed us!” “You’re posing a danger to my city, and if you think I’m just going to stand by and let you, you’re naive.” “And you’re posing a danger to Kevin. Take it up with the bureau chief.” His eyes narrowed for a brief second, then he smiled again. “We’re not through with this.”

As it turned out, no one had seen a stranger around the library.

It is a library.

But neither of them was good at small talk.

Is it "neither were"? I don't know.

Breathy.

Galager grinned deliberately.

hair. His blue eyes looked more desperate than enchanting now. He didn’t tap his foot or rake his hair as frequently. The man needed rest.

Poor baby.

“I think so. His objective doesn’t seem to be himself as much as you. I mean you specifically.”

He wants to force your hand somehow. I don’t think the game’s the device; I think the game’s the objective.”

“I can’t talk about the house!”

and then flung his arms wide. “You think any of this means anything? You think this is reality? A bunch of ants running around the globe, hiding their secrets in their deep dark tunnels?

“And who am I?” He was desperate. “Huh? Answer me that. Who am I? Who are you? Who is anybody? We are what we do! We are our secrets. I am my sin! You want to know me, then you have to know my sin. Is that what you want? Every little dirty secret out on the table so that you can dissect it all and know Kevin, the poor tormented soul?”

“Stop it!” Her anger surprised her. “You’re not your sin! Who ever told you that lie? Aunt Balinda? I’ve seen you, Kevin. You asked me what my profile for you was. Well, let me be more specific. You are one of the kindest, gentlest, most interesting, appealing men I know. That’s who you are. And don’t insult my intelligence or my feminine discernment by dismissing my opinion.” She took a breath and a guess. “I don’t know what Slater’s up to, or why, but I guarantee you’re doing exactly what he wants you to do when you start to believe that you’re trapped. You’ve come out of that. Don’t go back.”

And here is the worst psychologysts of all time.

She knew by his blink that she was right. Slater was trying to pull him back to the past, and the thought so terrified him that he was breaking down. Which was exactly how Slater would accomplish his objective. He would trap Kevin in his past.

Kevin stared at her, stunned. It occurred to her then, lo...

wide eyes, that she didn’t merely like Kevin, she cared for him deeply. She had no business caring for him; she didn’t even want to care for him, not in that way. Her empathy had risen to the surface, unbidden. She’d always been a sucker for the downtrodden. She had always had a soft s...

But this didn’t feel like a soft spot. She actually found him appealing, with his ragged hair and his charming smile. And those eyes. That wasn’t empathy, was it?

Maybe orange should be for the worst of it.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. God forbid, Jennifer. And when was the last time you dated a man, anyway? Two years ago? That hillbilly from Arkansas who came from good stock, so says Mom? She’d never known the full meaning of boring until then. She would prefer a man with a goatee who rode a Harley and winked frequently. Jennifer opened her eyes. Kevin was seated on the concrete, cross-legged, head in his hands. The man never ceased to surprise her. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure where all that came from,” she said. He lifted his head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “Please, don’t be sorry. That was the nicest thing I’ve heard in a long time.” His eyes fluttered open, as if he’d just heard himself. “Maybe nicest is the wrong word choice. It was . . . I think you’re right. He’s trying to pull me back, isn’t he? That’s his objective. So who is he? Balinda?”

Jennifer sat down beside him and folded her legs to the side. Her skirt wasn’t exactly dress of choice for concre...

“I know it’s hard, but I need to know what happened in that house, Kevin. For all we know, Slater could be someone Balinda hired. That would fit the profile. She wants to change you. But without knowing the whole story, I’m floundering here.”

“You’re asking me to tell you something no one knows. Not because it’s so horrible—I know I’m not the only one who’s had a few challenges along the way. But it’s dead and buried. You want me to bring it back to life? Isn’t that what Slater’s trying to do?” “I’m not Slater. And frankly, it doesn’t sound dead and buried to me.” “And you really think this whole game has to do with my past?” She nodded. “I’m assuming that Slater has an objective that is tied to your past, yes.”

Kevin remained quiet. The silence stretched, and Jennifer sat beside him feeling his tension, hearing his breathing. She wondered if it would be appropriate to put a hand on his arm but immediately decided it wouldn’t. He suddenly groaned and rocked. “I don’t think I can do this.” “You can’t slay the drag...

An image of Balinda seated under a stack of clipped newspapers filled Jennifer’s mind and she shivered.

You are right. Newspapers are scary.

Jennifer filled in the blanks. The abuse wasn’t primarily physical, not necessarily even emotional, although there was some of both of those. It was primarily psychological. She watched Kevin’s chest rise and fall. She desperately wanted to reach out to him. She could see the boy, sitting alone in a bathtub of cold water, shivering in the dark, wondering how to make sense of his horrible world that he’d been brainwashed to think was good. She fought back tears. Kevin, dear Kevin, I’m so sorry! She reached out her hand and put it on his arm. Who could do such terrible things to a little boy? There was more, details, stories that could undoubtedly fill a book to be studied by universities across the country. But she didn’t want to hear more. If she could only make it all go away. She might be able to stop Slater, but Kevin would live with this past until the day he died.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. The church is a system, a vehicle for me. I wouldn’t say that I know God personally, no. But my faith in a God is real enough.

I did not want to add to the popular highlight, but the statement below is the oldest argument ever.

She wanted only one thing now: to be with Kevin. Kevin needed her more now than ever. The despondent look on his face as she sped off to the airport haunted her.

POOR. BABY.

Her childhood friend had grown into quite an incredible man, hadn’t he?

No.

Part of her wanted nothing more than to run back to him and throw herself in his arms and beg him to marry her. Sure he had his demons; everyone did. Yes, he had a long struggle ahead of him; didn’t they all? But he was the most genuine man she’d ever known. His eyes shone with the excitement and wonder of a child, and his mind had absorbed the world with stunning capacity. His progress was nearly superhuman.

probably his wife unless he was in a late meeting, which was entirely possible.

Agents Bill Galager and Brett Mickales straddled chairs by the table, chins in their hands, focused on Jennifer.

More lazy men to make the women look amazing.

“The fact that we’re toast.”

. . .

“Easy, man. Nobody’s suggesting—” “I don’t have the foggiest notion what his crazy confession is! He’s nuts!” Kevin stepped toward them, aware that he’d crossed a line already. “They’re out there screaming bloody murder for Kevin’s confession. Well, I gave them one, didn’t I? I told them I killed someone as a kid. But they want more. They want real blood. They want me to bleed all over their gossip columns! Kevin, the kid killer who brought down Long Beach!” His fingers were trembling. They looked at him in silence. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Man . . .” “Nobody’s screaming bloody murder out there,” Jennifer said. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . . I don’t know what to do. This isn’t all my fault.”

because that’s what Slater does the best,

This is like reading a dumber version of Whinnie-the-Pooh.

Putting this woman in a cage will send the city through the roof. It’s one thing to wonder which unnamed citizens might be the next to discover a bomb under their bed; it’s far more disturbing to know that Mrs. Sally Jane who lives on Stars and Stripes Street and buys her groceries at Albertsons is locked up in a cage, waiting desperately for Kevin Parson to fess up.