Thr3e

by Ted Dekker

“My window. That’s where Slater saw me. That’s where he hated me.” She glanced in her rearview mirror. Clear. “I need more time, Jennifer. If Slater even

gets a whiff of anyone else snooping around this, he may pull the trigger. You know that.”

Did Slater live in her? Do you hate, Jennifer? Milton?

“If Kevin is Slater, he’ll be powerless to overcome Slater on his own.”

“Okay, Professor. We still don’t know if Kevin is Slater or not. Theories are fine, but let’s try the logistics on for size.” She pulled out her notebook and crossed her legs. “Question: From a purely logistical and evidentiary perspective, could one person have done what we know to have happened?”

“So it would seem.” She looked at her list. “But the warehouse is different because he calls the room phone and talks to Samantha. It’s the first time we have him on tape.” “You said the phone rang while he was in the room, but Slater didn’t speak until Kevin was out. He reaches into his pocket and presses send on a number he’s already entered. As soon as he’s in the hall, he begins to speak.” “Sounds far-fetched, don’t you think? Somehow I don’t see Slater as a James Bond.” “No, he’s probably made his mistakes. You just haven’t had the time to find them. For all you know, the recording will bear that out. We’re just reconstructing a possible scenario based on what we do know.” “Then we can assume he planted the bomb in the library the night before last somehow, while he was supposedly in Palos Verdes with Samantha. Maybe he slipped out at night or something. The library’s not exactly a high-security facility. He, meaning Slater, did everything either while our eyes were off him or remotely using the cell phone.” “If Kevin is Slater,” the professor said. She frowned. The scenario was plausible. Too plausible for her own comfort. If it bore out, the scientific journals would be writing about Kevin for years. “And the Riddle Killer?” she asked. “As you said earlier. Someone Slater imitated to throw the authorities off. What do you call it—copy cat? It’s only been four days. Even the wheels of the FBI can turn only so fast. Perpetuating the double life beyond a week might be ...

The professor ran his fingers over his bearded chin. “Maybe so. Do you rely on your intuition very often, Jennifer?” “All day. Intuition leads to evidence, which leads to answers. It’s what makes us ask the right questions.” “Hmm. And what does your intuition tell you about Kevin?” She thought about it for a moment. “That he’s innocent, either way. That he’s an exceptional man. That he’s nothing like Slater.” His right eyebrow went up. “This after four days? It took me a month to conclude the same.” “Four days of hell will tell you a lot about a man, Professor.” “‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.’” “If he is Slater, do you think Kevin’s afraid?” she asked. “I think he is petrified.”

A porch light glared angrily.

What?

Sam grabbed the fence with both hands and vaulted it easily. She had a body built for gymnastics, a coach had told her in law school. But you don’t start taking gymnastics at age twenty and expect to make the Olympics. She had opted for dance classes.

red blouse, dark colors that wouldn’t easily be seen from the street.

Sam let out a small cry and immediately swallowed it. That was it! No window. What used to have light but does no more? What has no window?

“And how is a man or a woman set free from this hideous nature?”

Jennifer asked. “You kill it. But to kill it you must see it. Thus the light.” “So just like”—Jennifer snapped her fingers—“that, huh?” “As it turns out, no. It needs a daily dose of death. Really,

“And Kevin?” “Kevin? I don’t know about Kevin. If he is Slater, I suppose you would need to kill Slater the way you kill the old self. But he can’t do it alone. He wouldn’t even know to kill him. Man cannot deal with evil alone.”

These constant cuts that lead to nothingness are horrible.

The window that wasn’t really a window had to be Kevin’s window. In Slater’s mind he might have used another riddle: What thinks it’s a window but really isn’t? Opposites. As a boy, Kevin thought he’d escaped his tortuous world through his window, but he hadn’t.

Just remember, you were born for this, Sam.

verify. Verify, verify.

Stop repeating yourself.

Come on, Sam, you were born for this.

house!

nine millimeter

It is a gun.

couldn’t? Only Slater knew the answer to that. The boy she’d never seen. Until today. Kevin, dear Kevin, I’m so sorry.

No, I was born for Kevin.

The poor man was terrified.

“It’s okay, Kevin.” She smiled. “I promise you, it’ll be okay.”

“Actually, it won’t be okay, Kevin,” Slater said, walking briskly to her right. He wasn’t the monster she’d imagined. No horns, no yellow teeth, no scarred face. He looked like a jock with short blond hair, tight tan slacks, a torso cut like a gymnast’s. A large, red tattoo of a heart branded over his breast. She could have met this man a dozen times over the years and not taken notice. Only his eyes gave him away. They were far away, light gray eyes, like a wolf’s. If Kevin’s eyes swallowed her, Slater’s were the kind she might bounce off of. He even smiled like a wolf.

“I could have killed you too, my dear. A hundred times. But this way it’s just so much more fun. We’re all together like a happy little family. Mommy’s in the closet, Kevin’s finally come back home, and now his little girlfriend has come to save him from the terrible boy down the street. It’s almost like old times. We’re even going to let Kevin kill again.”

Sam took this in and faced Kevin. He looked so frail in the yellow light. Afraid. Slater was going to force his hand to kill. Her. It all made perfect sense now, although exactly what Slater had in mind, she didn’t know.

Surprisingly, Sam felt no fear. In fact, she felt somewhat buoyed, even confident. Maybe this is how you feel just before you die.

“So. He’s the boy, after all,” Sam said to Kevin. Both men were watching her. “How does a big, strong, handsome man like this become so jealous of you, Kevin? Think about it. How could such a powerful, intelligent man be driven to such insane fits over one man? Answer: Because underneath that big, bold, red tattoo and all that bulging muscle, he’s only a pathetic little weasel who’s never managed to make a friend, much less win a girl.” Slater stared at her. “I’ll keep your predicament in mind and forgive the rest of your desperate insults, but I don’t think jealous is the right word, Samantha. I am not jealous of this piece of meat.” She faced him slowly, wildly bold and unsure why. “Then forgive me for such poor word choice. You’re not insanely jealous; you’re delighted with the sweet bond of love that Kevin and I have always shared. The fact that I would have shoved a toilet plunger into your face if I’d ever caught you peeping and licking at my window doesn’t bother you, does it?” His mouth was a thin, st...

them. A tingle ran through her fingertips.

“You really think Kevin is any different than me?” Slater waved the guns

around absently. “You really think this little puke here doesn’t want exactly what I want? He’ll kill and he’ll lie and he’ll spend the rest of his life pretending he won’t, just like the rest. That’...

“And who are you, Slater? You’re the devil. You’re the sickness of this world. You’re vile and you’re vom...

“Shut up!” Slater screamed. “Shut your disgusting pie hole! This little piece of trash sits in the pew every Sunday, swearing to God that he won’t keep doing his secret little sins when he knows as well as I that he will. We know he will because he’s made this promise a thousand times and breaks ...

“He’s nothing like you,” Sam said. “See him? He’s a terrorized victim whom you’ve tried desperately to pound to a pulp. See you? You’re a revolting monster pounding whoever threatens you into a pulp. See me? I’m neither terrorized nor frightened, because I see you and...

Slater stared at her, lips parted, stunned. She had pushed him beyond himself with the simple truth, and he was writhing inside already. She shoved her fingers into ...

“Where do they breed your kind, Slater? Is that a mask you’re wearing? You look so normal, but I have this unshakable suspicion that if I pulled your...

Gunfire crashed through the room and Samantha jerked. Slater had fired the gun. A muffled wail cried through the door. Balinda. Sam’s pulse quickened. Slater stood without flinching, gun ex-tended to the ground where his bullet had chipped a divot from the concrete. “That hole below your nose ...

“Or maybe you should consider putting a hole in your...

Slowly a smile formed on his lips. “You have more spunk than I would have guessed. I really should have broken your window that first night.” “You’re demented.” “How...

“You make me very, very sick.” “Take your hands out where I can see them.” He’d noticed. She pulled her hands out of her pockets and returned his glare. Neither backed down. “Enough!” Kevin yelled. Sam faced him. Kevin scowled at Slater, whose face was red and quivering. “I’ve always loved her! Why can’t you just accept that? Why have you hidden away all these years? Why can’t you find some other poor sucker and leave us alone?” “Because none of them interests me like you do, Kevin. I hate you more than I hate myself, and that, puke face, is quite interesting.”

Pure. Unadulterated. Garbage.

Slater sounds confident, but he’s never felt so much unease in all of his life. He has underestimated the strength of the girl. If his plan depends on bending her will, he will have significant challenges ahead. Fortunately, Kevin is more pliable. He’ll be the one pulling the trigger.

What is it about her? Her nerve. Her unyielding conviction. Her arrogance! She really does love the fool and she flaunts that love. In fact, she is all about love and Slater hates her for it. He’d seen her smiling, combing her hair, bouncing around her bedroom as a child twenty years ago; he’d seen her run around, locking up criminals in New York, like some kind of superhero on steroids. Happy, happy and snappy. It makes him sick. The look of disdain in her eyes now brings small comfort—it’s born out of her love for the worm to his right. So then, all the more reason for Kevin to put a bullet through her pretty white forehead.

He glances at the clock. Nineteen minutes. He should forget the timing and just do it now. A bitter taste pulls at the back of his tongue. The sweet taste of death. He should do it! But Slater is a patient man, most excellent in all of ...

The game is down to the last test. The last little surprise. Slater feels a surge of confidence sweep through his bones. He chuckles. But he doesn’t feel like chuckling. He feels like shooting his gun again. Say wh...

Kevin watched Slater, heard him chuckle, knew with awful certainty that things were going to get worse.

He looked at Sam and saw that she was watching him. She winked slowly. “Courage, Kevin. Courage, my knight.”

“Shut up!” Slater said. “Nobody talk! My knight? You’re trying to make me gag? My knight? What rubbish!”

For once, I can relate to a character.

They stared at him. He was losing himself in this game.

knife through his chest.