The Bride Collector by Ted Dekker Read Free Book Online

allowed him the opportunity to satisfy those tastes.
    Two large urns sat against the far wall, filled with colored reeds. Nothing extravagant, but well made, well placed, and well
     kept. It was the way he liked his life. In order, so that he could maintain perspective in a disorganized and chaotic world.
    He checked the tap, making sure it was firmly off. Glanced at the Movado on his wrist, saw that he had time, and called Nikki’s
     cell. He left a message asking her to meet him at the crime scene at nine, then strode to his bedroom for shoes. A spot of
     orange cloth caught his attention as he bent for the third pair of black leather loafers.
    A woman’s top. He recognized it immediately. This was Lauren’s orange tankini, left from her visit three weeks ago. How it
     had found its way behind his hanging slacks and remained there without attracting his attention sooner was a mystery.
    He picked up the top, recalling the specifics of that night. He’d known Lauren for nearly a year, a stunning woman who lived
     on the floor beneath him. She worked as a fashion consultant at Nordstrom, downtown. Lighthearted, carefree, and smothered
     in sensuality. Their relationship was casual, not intimate, and he had no ambition to ruin a strong friendship.
    That night, however… Things got interesting that night. He had managed to avoid calling her since the following morning.
    He checked his watch again: still plenty of time. He folded the article of clothing, placed it into a manila envelope, and
     wrote a note to Lauren with a Sharpie.
Let’s talk soon.
    Retrieving the soft leather briefcase he’d packed last night, he took the stairs to Lauren’s condo, wedged the package under
     her door, then rode the elevator to the ground floor.
    The killer more than likely lived in an apartment or house out of the way, where his comings and goings at odd hours would
     be undetected. Or was he the kind that turned heads, a Ted Bundy of sorts, adapting to a suburban or city environment where
     he was greeted warmly by unsuspecting neighbors and clerks?
    “Morning, Mr. Raines.” Mason, one of half a dozen guards who rotated duty from the counter, nodded.
    Brad glanced out at the blue sky. “Looks like a nice one.”
    “That it is. Sure’s got Miami beat. But come January you’ll be wishing you were back in Florida.”
    “You forget I’ve already lived through winter here.”
    “True. Beats Minneapolis.” Mason grinned.
    Brad left the parking garage beneath the building and wound his way to Maci’s, a breakfast-and-lunch café. He glanced at his
     watch again: seven twenty-three. In no hurry to battle traffic, he grabbed a paper at the front door and let Becky, the proprietor,
     seat him at a street window near the back. “Amanda will be right with you, Brad.”
    “Thanks, Becky.”
    Amanda approached wearing the same yellow dress and white apron all the waitresses wore, a cute cut that was supposed to convey
     a faint country motif but looked a little more candy striper on Amanda, twenty-eight and divorced.
    “Coffee with stevia,” she said, setting down a cup and bowl of the sweetener.
    “Thanks for remembering.”
    “You may be good looking, sweetie, but that doesn’t mean I swoon at first sight like the rest of the ladies you string along.”
    She grinned and he laughed to cover his blush. “I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or a slap on the wrist.”
    “Uh-huh. I don’t see a ring on your finger yet.”
    “I guess I’m not one to rush into a relationship.”
    “I don’t blame you for a second.” Her flirting came from a place of familiarity. The safety she offered him was one reason
     he was attracted to Maci’s Café. But she’d never been quite this flirtatious.
    “I’ll have your eggs right out. Over easy with two pieces of whole-grain toast, half an orange, peeled. Like clockwork.”
    He offered her a smile and thanked her. She strode away, wearing an amused grin. This was home.