Nest

by Terry Goodkind

  A game. Kate’s fingers on the steering wheel trembled.

  “They have my picture,” she whispered.

  “What?” he asked in alarm as he looked over at her.

  Kate felt sick to her stomach. “There were photos of me at my brother’s house, photos he had taken of me that he stuck on his refrigerator, photos on photographic paper printed from negatives. Those photos were missing from John’s house.”

  Kate saw Jack’s hands fist in his lap.

  “That’s why I’m here,” he said at last. “You’re in over your head and you don’t even know it, yet. I’m here to keep you from drowning until you can learn to swim.”

  Her gaze briefly met his. “Or … what?”

  “Or tomorrow will never come for you.”

  Kate fell silent as she drove on into the alien darkness.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jack pulled out his phone when it rang. He looked at it briefly. “My editor. Sorry, I need to take this. She might have a lead on someone who needs my help.”

  “Sure,” Kate said as she took the exit onto Harrington Road south to her house. She wondered how many people there were like her who were being hunted by predators.

  As was her ingrained habit, she checked her mirrors to see if anyone followed her onto the exit. A single woman was always a target. Some of them never realized it or thought about it. Kate did. She could feel when there were eyes on her.

  She watched a car in her rearview mirror with the right headlight pointed down at the ground because of body damage. She had been keeping track of it since getting onto I-90. It always seemed to be somewhere behind her. She was relieved when it didn’t take her exit.

  One time an SUV with four heavily tattooed men who looked like belligerent drunks had kept pulling up beside her at stoplights, trying to get her attention, trying to get her to stop. Angered that she wouldn’t stop and that she ignored them, they had followed her onto the interstate, sometimes mere feet off her back bumper.

  As they’d pulled alongside her, two of the men on the passenger side hung out the window, banging on the side of their door, yelling what they wanted to do with her, laughing between the taunts, telling her how much she would like it. She kept them pacing along beside her, at about twenty over the speed limit, and then at the last moment she cut off the interstate onto an exit. They sailed past before they had time to react and she never saw them again.

  In her car or not, Kate always kept track of anyone who was paying too much attention to her. Sometimes it was simply men gawking. Sometimes, she worried that it might be more than that.

  “Hi Shannon,” Jack said into the phone. “Do you have something for me?”

  There was a pause while the woman on the other end of the line explained. Kate could hear the muffled sound of the woman’s voice. Even though Kate couldn’t make out the words, the voice had something of a lullaby quality to it.

  “I don’t know, yet,” Jack said. He listened in silence for a moment before answering. “Yes, I know that they have schedules. Of course I want it published as much as you do. I could send you the chapters if you like, but to tell you the truth none of it is really going to be clear until I finish the manuscript. At the moment I’m still involved in some research and I—”

  He let out a sigh as the distant voice murmured away. “I know. I understand. Of course I know that they can’t publish part of a book. I’ll try to get back to it as soon as I can, but you know that lives are what really matters in all this.”

  The female voice went on, apologetic-sounding, soothing, but insistent.

  “To New York? How soon?”

  Jack listened as the woman gave him an explanation of something. He was nodding even though he wasn’t speaking.

  “All right, I understand. No, you’re right, publicity does need to get a head start on it … I’m not sure yet. Hopefully I can make arrangements to come out in a few days. I’m in Chicago working on something … Of course. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know. Okay, thanks.”

  He ended the call and slipped the phone back into a pocket. “Sorry. My editor, Shannon Blare.”

  “Is she causing you a problem?”

  “No, it’s not that,” he said. “She’s the one who believed in the first book and pushed for it at her publisher. My agent submitted it to her because he thought she would like it.

  “Without Shannon, A Brief History of Evil would never have been published in the first place. In a way, she’s become kind of like a silent partner in helping to find people like you. To maintain security, I’m damn near impossible to get hold of.”

  “That’s what AJ said—that she had a hard time getting in touch with you.”

  Jack nodded. “I stay off the radar in order to protect the lives of people like you. Since I’m sure at least some of these predators know about my book, I don’t want them to be able to use me to find those I’m trying to help.”

  Kate was beginning to feel like an endangered species more than a human being. Protected because she was a valuable asset.

  “So you let this Shannon woman be the gatekeeper for people wanting to get to you?”

  “Partly,” Jack said. “A lot of people want to get in touch with me for everything from wanting an autograph, to wanting me to speak at their group, to wanting me to help them get published. Shannon acts as a stone wall for most of those people but she passes on the occasional legitimate lead. I investigate and decide if the person is someone I need to talk to.

  “Despite wanting to be helpful in what I do, she is still an editor at her publishing house and that’s a business. She went out on a limb selling them on the idea of a second book, pushing it purely on faith, and she is a bit nervous now because she is in the dark about a lot of the specifics.”

  “You mean she’s afraid of losing her job?”

  Jack laughed quietly. “No, Shannon Blare isn’t afraid of losing her job. She’s only afraid of losing face. Her family is wealthy. And by ‘wealthy,’ I mean crazy rich wealthy. She buys high-rises in the city sometimes because she thinks they’re ‘cute,’ like another woman might buy an expensive handbag. She goes to work in a limo and has it parked outside all day, waiting for when she might want it.

  “She doesn’t work because she has to. She seems to want to be involved in books in order to make herself look cultured. I think it gives her something ‘intellectual’ to do to impress her friends. She only has a few authors, so she only works part-time. It’s kind of a hobby for her. Despite all that, she seems genuinely interested in my ideas. I’m not sure how much she believes in what I do, but she believes enough to serve my purpose, and that’s all that matters to me.”

  “What would make a woman like that interested in a book about killers?”

  “She championed it and took it under her wing because it has that historical, highbrow flavor that seemed to fit her interest. The fact that it’s about murder titillated her because the subject scandalized her wealthy friends.”

  Kate’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “I don’t think that murder is titillating.”

  “Nor do I,” Jack said.

  Kate gestured with a hand. “I didn’t mean to include you. It’s just that … people like that don’t understand what it feels like. They haven’t looked down at a pool of a loved one’s blood, or felt terror because the killer is coming for them.”

  “I know,” Jack said in sympathetic tone. “I realize that people like her don’t really get it. But this is one way that helps me protect innocent lives. I can’t change Shannon Blare any more than I can change the world, but she can do things that I can’t. I needed the book to have a way of connecting with those like you. Shannon is useful because she felt that the book was important, from a historical perspective. She probably also wanted to impress her friends. The book needed a champion at her publisher if it was ever going to come out. She was useful for that reason.

  “So, I owe her.”

  “
And because of what they paid for the book?”

  “No. The Israelis, remember? I owe her because without that book being published I wouldn’t be sitting here in this car with you.”

  “Do you think it was all worth it?” Kate asked, trying to take some of the tension out of the air. “To be riding along in my beige car and going for pizza?”

  Jack chuckled a little. “Hell yes. I can get a better car, but I couldn’t find a more gorgeous date.”

  Kate blushed in the darkness. “So she wants you to go to New York?”

  “Yes, she wants to have a meeting to discuss the new book. She’s in the dark. I’ve been keeping that under wraps for now. She wants me to give her some guidance to help her sell the book internally and get everyone behind it.

  “The publisher wants to promote it as the second volume to A Brief History of Evil. They want to call it part two, or something like that. Publishers love related books or a series, because they tend to sell better. Shannon wants to talk to me about this book, but more importantly she wants to talk about a series, a kind of compendium of evil as she calls it. She envisions a dozen volumes. That means that this second book is an important part of her plan.”

  “And you care if they sell because you want … what? If it sells better that helps you to find people like me?”

  “Partly. But like I told you before, I’m the only one of my kind, the only one who can do what I can do—recognize those like you. I think it’s important to get what I know all down on paper so that hopefully there can be wider understanding.”

  “Understanding of what, exactly?”

  “That we’ve entered a nesting period.”

  Kate remembered AJ mentioning a term like that, but she didn’t know what it meant. Kate wanted to ask him about it, but a more important question came to mind.

  “You basically found me by hacking AJ’s cell phone. Don’t you think someone, one of these predators, might do the same with your cell?”

  Jack smiled to himself. “Good catch, but no. I use burner phones. They don’t have GPS.”

  “But records of phone calls can be traced to cell towers to give locations.”

  “True, but that’s a higher level of hacking than getting into an iCloud account. Still, your basic point is valid. That’s why I use disposable phones. I change them frequently.”

  “You left your number with me, on my answering machine. Couldn’t that be used by these predators to find the people you’re trying to help?”

  “If anyone listened to my message on your machine they couldn’t track me because I have already destroyed that phone and I have a new one. There is no way for them to know the latest number for me. They’re all different. I encrypt the numbers and send them to Shannon so she can get hold of me.

  “I also maintain a relationship with the Mossad, and they sometimes have urgent need of me. I go over there every once in a while to help them out. They always have my number. I also put the number of my Mossad contact on speed dial of each new phone I get in case I have an emergency and need to contact them.”

  As Kate pulled into her driveway and put the car in park, she decided to wait until they got to AJ’s to ask him about the meaning of “a nesting period.” It was getting late and she didn’t want to hold up the Janek family’s dinner any longer.

  “My castle,” Kate said.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

  Jack sat silently in the car, studying the front of her house. He looked up and down the street to each side.

  “I just need to throw some things in a bag,” Kate said. She thought that maybe he wanted to keep watch outside. “It shouldn’t take long. Do you want to wait here? Or would you like to come in?”

  Jack gave her a look. “Didn’t you hear what I said about keeping you from drowning before you learn to swim?”

  Kate’s gaze shifted to her dark house. Her place had always been a refuge, her safe haven. She wasn’t used to thinking in terms of someone stalking her. Or ambushing her.

  “You mean you think the killer could be waiting for me to come home?”

  Jack popped open his door. “Well, at least you’re learning to tread water. It’s a start.”

  Kate followed Jack’s example and closed the car door as quietly as possible. Seeing the way he moved, the way he watched everything, heightened her sense of concern.

  She hadn’t left the porch light on, but fortunately the streetlamp gave her enough light to see to unlock the front door. Jack gently moved her to the side with an outstretched arm as he let himself in ahead of her. Kate flicked on the living room light for him.

  As he moved through the dark house, she followed behind, turning on lights. He said nothing, asked nothing. His gaze glided over everything, taking in everything. The way he looked around made her see it all as if for the first time.

  For someone who was worried that there might be a killer waiting for her, his movements were measured, but not overtly careful. She thought that maybe she had just seen too many TV shows with a SWAT team yelling and screaming as they charged though a house to clear it.

  They went through the spare bedrooms, where he looked briefly in all the closets. He checked behind the shower curtains in the bathrooms. In a way, it made her feel silly to be clearing her own house in this manner, but on the other hand it spooked her. His calm confidence reassured her.

  Jack looked in the utility closet in the hallway, where he found the short door to the basement. He went down alone to check it out. The basement was basically a big square space with virtually nothing except a water heater and her simple workout area. Jack returned as soon as he was satisfied that no threat lurked down there.

  If there were an intruder, Kate thought, there would have been signs, but everything was untouched and exactly as she had left it.

  When they finally reached the kitchen after having checked everywhere in the rest of the house, Jack tested to make sure the door to the backyard was locked.

  “You’ve seen everything in the house,” Kate said as she pointed back toward the hall. “I’m going to go pack a bag. Would you mind going out and latching the shed door? It was blowing around last night. Let me see if I can find a flashlight.”

  “Never mind—I’ve got one,” Jack said, pulling a small flashlight from his pocket. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay. When I’m done changing I’ll open the bedroom door, so come on in when you’re finished.”

  After Jack went out to check on the shed door, Kate closed her bedroom door and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and workout shoes. It felt good to be in comfortable clothes. She picked out a black top and tossed a jacket on the bed.

  Once dressed, she opened the bedroom door before flopping her carry-on bag up onto the bed, then quickly started gathering up things she would need. She collected makeup and toiletries and put them in their proper zippered pouches in her bag. She had a routine from when she traveled for work. She folded some tops and slacks and put them in the bag along with some clothes for work. She could hear Jack come back in and shut the kitchen door.

  “You can come on in,” Kate shouted out toward the hall as she went to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer with her underthings.

  When she started to reach in, she froze.

  Jack came to the bedroom door, one hand on the doorframe as he leaned in.

  “The shed door was already latched tight. I double-checked it to make sure it was secure.”

  Kate stood staring down into the drawer.

  “Kate?” Jack stepped into the room. “What’s wrong? Your face has gone white.”

  “There is a pair of pink panties on top,” she said in a small voice.

  He frowned as he stepped closer and looked over her shoulder. “So?”

  “I don’t like that pair of panties.”

  Jack clearly looked confused. “So?”

  “So I keep them at the bottom of the stack in back, just in case I ever need extras for some reason. But I never
wear them. I haven’t worn them in years. I always intended to throw them out.

  “Now, they’re on the top in front.”

  His expression darkened with concern. “Are you sure you didn’t put them there without realizing it? You’ve been pretty distracted with your brother’s murder. Are you sure?” He reached up and clasped her upper arm and turned her toward him. “Kate, this is important. Are you sure?”

  She looked into his eyes. “I didn’t put them there. I don’t ever put them there in front on top. Never. They were buried in the back of the drawer. Distracted or not, I wouldn’t have dug them out. I wouldn’t. Someone has been through my underwear.”

  Jack glanced around the room. “Is anything else out of place? Has anything been taken?”

  Kate went back to the closet, looked through the hanging things, then the folded sweaters and tops on the shelves at the side. She pulled open drawers, checking everything.

  “Nothing else looks out of order,” she finally said. “Everything is here and just as I keep it.” She looked back at him. “Did either of the doors to the house look like they had been tampered with?”

  “No. I checked for any evidence of that.”

  “Then how did he get in?”

  “He wouldn’t need to use force or break a window. Most likely he simply picked a lock, probably the one on the kitchen door. Maybe with a bump key. A few taps and he’d be in. None of the neighbors could have seen him, so he would have had all the time he needed to get the door unlocked.”

  “Why would he do this? Why move one pair of panties?”

  “To rattle you. The people who want to kill you are intelligent, sophisticated predators. Scared people make mistakes. But mostly they simply enjoy terrifying people.

  “If you have your things packed we should get out of here and get you to AJ’s house.”

  Kate sat on her bed, opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand, and then unlocked the gun safe. She pulled out her Glock.