Nest

by Terry Goodkind

  “Twin beds would be okay,” she said.

  He smiled. “Sure. That works. But if you’d rather—”

  “No, that’s fine. To tell you the truth, I’d really rather not be alone right now.”

  Jack looked sympathetic. “I understand. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

  Kate watched him go inside the well-lit reception area. It occurred to her that one would never know by looking at him that he had killed two men that night. He was calm and polite. He didn’t look aggressive or dangerous. He looked like a nice guy.

  As the woman slid a sign-in sheet across the counter, Jack took ID out of his wallet and then bent to fill out the form. Kate scanned the motel parking lot. She looked carefully at everyone, at every movement. She checked the shadows and doorways.

  The world had changed. She had changed.

  Jack returned to the car and handed Kate an envelope with receipts, restaurant ads, and an electronic room key.

  “With your concern about security and secrecy and staying off the radar, don’t you think that registering at a motel is rather risky?”

  He put the car in gear and drove on into the side parking lot. “Not considering that I signed us in as Mr. and Mrs. Weldon. We’ve just come down from Milwaukee for a few days of sightseeing and shopping. I requested a nice suite because it’s our fourth anniversary. The lady thought that was sweet and gave us their best room.”

  “But they need ID.”

  “I gave them ID. I told you, Kate, I know what I’m doing. I’ve been doing this kind of thing for a long time now.”

  She had no idea how one would go about getting a fake ID, but she supposed that maybe the Mossad was able to supply him with those sorts of things.

  “How many of the people you’ve tried to help have ended up dead?” Kate asked.

  After he parked near the dark end of the lot, not far from a back entrance, he sat for a time, staring off at nothing.

  It was a pretty blunt question. She hated for it to be so harsh, but that was the way the investigator in her asked questions. If you wanted to know the truth, you sometimes had to ask tough questions.

  Kate had to look away from the anguish in his eyes. She hadn’t intended the question to be hurtful.

  “I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing for me to ask.”

  He put his fingers under her chin and turned her face back to look into her eyes. “Considering your position, it’s a perfectly reasonable question to ask.”

  She stared back into his eyes a long moment. “You don’t need to answer. It’s just that—”

  “Too many,” he said. “I try as hard as I can to help people with your ability, people who are able to do what you can do. Despite how hard I try, too many have been lost. Most never come to understand their place in all this. Most don’t want to. That makes what I do pretty discouraging at times.

  “Each one of those deaths cuts my soul. With each of them, a part of me dies, too.”

  She looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

  “But you should know that most of those were not like you.”

  She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “They weren’t avenging angels. They didn’t have what it took to live given their unique ability. And they weren’t protectors.”

  Kate frowned. “Protectors?”

  “Protectors of mankind. Most were simply victims who had a talent they couldn’t accept or use to help them survive. Having the special vision like you have didn’t help them to survive. Survival is ultimately up to the individual, not their vision.

  “You do more than survive, Kate—you protect others. That’s really rare, even among your kind.”

  “Where are you getting all this? I’m no protector. You’re the one who protected me, remember?”

  “That’s different. You helped AJ identify killers, didn’t you?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “That’s what a protector does. She doesn’t simply run from killers, she turns and faces them. She wants to stop them.

  “The woods are full of wolves. Your inherent nature is to protect the flock from those wolves. You, Kate Bishop, are part of mankind’s never-ending struggle with itself.”

  “You talk in riddles a lot, Jack Raines.”

  He showed her a brief smile. “Sorry. That’s why I’m writing the second book, but since it isn’t written yet, tomorrow, after you’re rested, I’ll try to make it more clear for you. And then you can decide for yourself.”

  “Decide what?”

  “If you really want to survive. Sometimes even I don’t know if I want to.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  While Kate waited in the car, Jack went by himself to casually check the entrance. Except that as she was getting to know him a little better, she recognized that he was anything but casual as he looked for potential problems or people who could possibly see Kate and end up causing them trouble.

  Once satisfied, he returned to the car and opened the trunk, taking out both their bags before opening her door.

  “I didn’t see anyone. The place looks pretty quiet. Turn your collar up and keep your head down. Let your hair fall down around your face. I don’t want anyone seeing you before you have a chance to clean up.”

  She knew that he really meant “before you clean off all the blood.” She knew that she had a lot of the killer’s blood on her. He’d had a lot of Mike’s, Ryan’s, and AJ’s blood all over him as well, and as she’d fought him up close a lot of their blood had gotten on her. The thought of it sickened her. More than anything, the weight of grief was crushing.

  Kate took the handle of her carry-on from Jack, rolling it behind her as they left the relative darkness of the parking area for the well-lit rear hallway. Skinny columns separated the hall from an atrium with a koi pond. Real plants and flowers grew around the pond, making it an oasis of sorts among the artificial grass.

  The humid air carried the sharp smell of chlorine from the pool. On the other side of the atrium a small group of people, talking and laughing, moved down the hallway. They were self-absorbed, possibly drunk, and didn’t look her way.

  After the events of the night, the civilized normality of the motel was jarring. She felt as if since leaving her office with Jack she had gone through the looking glass into some kind of alternate world where she no longer knew the rules.

  Once Jack checked the hallway around the corner, they took the elevator up to the second floor. A man and woman at the far end of the hallway were letting themselves into their room. Given the distance, and her black top, Kate doubted they would be able to make out the blood all over her. She kept her head down as Jack inserted the key card in the slot.

  At the click, he opened the door and went in first. Kate was getting used to him checking things out, so she stood just inside the doorway until he was satisfied and tilted his head, signaling for her to come in. She was tempted to ask him how in the world a killer would have known the motel she would pick out and the room they would be given, but decided to let it go.

  It was a comfortable-looking suite done in soft yellows and mellow tans. Beyond double French doors was a sitting room with a TV. There were two bathrooms, and in the bedroom portion two king-size beds. Even though there were two beds, it felt a little awkward to know that she was going to spend the night sleeping in the same room with him. This was a man she had only met that day.

  The thought of the alternative was more unnerving.

  Jack gestured to the larger of the two bathrooms. “Why don’t you use that one and get cleaned up so I can take a look at you.”

  Before getting into the shower, Kate put her top in the sink to soak out the blood. Surprisingly, it was only on her top and not on her jeans. She was dead tired, and her neck and shoulders ached, but it felt good to stand under the shower and let the water beat against her skin. When she looked down, she saw that the water spiraling around the drain was red, like in the movie Psycho. By
the time she washed and rinsed her hair twice, the water was finally running clear.

  After she got out and toweled her hair, she washed the top soaking in the sink and hung it over the shower curtain to dry. She used the hair dryer belonging to the motel, rather than unpacking her own.

  Inspecting her face in the mirror, she thought she looked a little like an abused woman. Her lip was swollen around a cut to the left side. There were a few abrasions on her cheekbones. Fortunately, she had prevented the killer from having enough distance to be able to pile-drive his fist in at her, so most of the rest of it was bruising she thought she could tone down with makeup.

  Considering how hard the blows had felt, she was actually surprised she didn’t look worse. The way those blows had snapped her head back left the muscles in her neck tight and sore. Had he ever connected using his advantages to the fullest, he would have probably killed her the same way Wilma had been killed.

  Kate put on her nightshirt and the white guest robe. She tied it around the waist before going out. Jack was waiting on the couch in the sitting area. He had a first-aid kit out, no doubt one he had in his carry-on.

  He gestured to the couch beside him. “Come sit. Let me take a look at you.”

  Kate sat on the couch beside him and tucked her legs under herself. The room was dimly lit by lamps on end tables.

  Jack put his big hand on the top of her head and tilted it back for a better look. He gently pulled her lip down with a thumb, then put something on a gauze pad and pressed it to her lip. It stung like crazy. He got another and cleaned the scrapes on her cheek.

  “All in all, you look in surprisingly good shape.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Anything I can’t see that I should know about?”

  Kate shook her head.

  He put antiseptic ointment on another gauze pad and gently rubbed it into the cut on her lip. “Nothing needs stitches. That’s good. You can’t really bandage your lip, so we’ll just have to put some ice on it and let it heal on its own. I think it will be fine.”

  Kate hardly heard him. In her mind, she was seeing AJ lying on the floor, silver duct tape wrapped around her head to blind her, half naked, covered in blood. She would never be fine.

  Kate swallowed. “Why did he put duct tape around her eyes?”

  There was no doubting who she meant. Jack didn’t answer.

  “I want the truth,” she added. “Don’t say you don’t know. You know.”

  Jack looked at her a long moment. “To add to her terror,” he said in a soft voice that somehow made the words more horrific. “He probably wanted her to hear her son screaming for her, but not be able to look at him for the last time. To have her know that her son couldn’t see his mother.”

  “And why didn’t he put tape over her mouth?”

  Jack didn’t shy away from the question. “With the party going on across the street, he knew that no one would hear her. He killed her husband immediately, then surprised and overpowered her. He didn’t put the tape on her mouth because he wanted to hear her beg for her son’s life.”

  Kate was having difficulty breathing. She knew how much AJ loved Ryan.

  “He killed her husband first so that he could take his time on her. He must have known that you were going to be coming over. He wanted it to be as gruesome as possible for your benefit. He left the card with the bent corners for you to see so that you would know that he was also the one who had killed your brother.”

  Kate lost it.

  She broke into sobs, unable to stop imagining AJ’s horror, her pain, her terror, her agony.

  She felt a mountain of guilt that Mike, Ryan, and AJ had died just so the monster could strike horror and fear into Kate. Had Kate never gotten to know AJ, she and her family would still be alive. Kate had brought the devil into their lives.

  “It’s not your fault,” Jack said, seeming to know what she was thinking.

  She knew it was. Even if it wasn’t intentional, it was her fault. All the connections with Kate had brought the killer into AJ’s home.

  As Kate gave in to the crushing weight of grief, Jack put his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her over against him. Kate buried her face against his chest as she wept uncontrollably. She had no strength left to hold back her tears. He put his hand on the back of her head and held her, letting her cry, not trying to get her to stop.

  It wouldn’t have done any good. Kate couldn’t be stopped at that point.

  Everything that had happened seemed to come falling in on her. All the people around her who had been murdered because these predators wanted her.

  Wilma had died because the killer couldn’t get to Kate. John had died because Kate hadn’t been there. Now AJ and her family had been slaughtered because Kate was in their lives.

  Jack reached back and turned off the light on the side table.

  He hugged her with wordless sympathy and sorrow for what she was feeling. Kate had only just met him, and he was the only one in the world who could understand her helpless agony. In a world gone mad he was the only one she could turn to.

  Her fingers clutched his shirt, her face pressed against him, as she wept in choking sobs. She wanted out of the nightmare. She wanted AJ’s family to be alive and well. She wanted Wilma to be thinking about retirement. She wanted John to be alive and living his life.

  Even though the man who had slaughtered AJ’s family was dead, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t justice enough for what he had done. Beautiful lives had been snuffed out in the most horrific manner by a worthless human being, and he got to have his neck broken and die in an instant. It wasn’t fair. His useless life was not a fair trade for their priceless lives.

  Kate didn’t know how long she cried in Jack’s arms. She didn’t try to stop. She wouldn’t have been able to, yet her sobs slowly lessened and, in her exhaustion, finally died out. She lay where she was, against him, not wanting to move.

  In that moment, she was a helpless child in the comforting embrace of someone strong and good.

  It had been a very, very long time since she’d had anyone comfort her, since anyone had let her give in to her fear and anguish and just held her.

  At last she had to turn and snatch some tissues from the end table. She blew her nose and wiped her tears.

  Jack didn’t say anything. Not saying anything was the kindest thing he could have done for her right then.

  Oddly enough, she didn’t feel embarrassed that she had given in to her grief in front of him. That he understood and simply held her made her feel closer to him, on a human level, rather than the guy who wrote the book with all the bad reviews who had come to tell her that there were crazy people trying to kill her.

  Her cut lip ached. The blows the man had managed to land left her face hurting and her neck sore. Her arms ached. On top of that, she was flat-out exhausted, both mentally and physically.

  She finally looked up at Jack. “I think I’d like to get some sleep.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.”

  Jack finally got up and retrieved a pill bottle from his bag. He returned and shook a pill out into his hand.

  “Here, why don’t you take this?”

  “What is it?”

  “A Valium.”

  Kate shook her head. “I don’t want to take a tranquilizer.”

  “It’s really a muscle relaxer. It’s a low dose—only five milligrams. It will help you sleep.”

  Kate stared at the pill for a moment. “Thanks, but I’m so tired I think I’ll sleep fine without it. I don’t like my head to get foggy from medications.”

  “I understand,” he said as he put the pills away.

  It occurred to her that with all the horrors he must see, with all the things he dealt with, he probably needed to take those pills himself sometimes to dull the pain of it all.

  Kate shed the robe and crawled under the covers. Jack turned on a smaller light in the bathroom, closed the door most of the way, and then shut off the light i
n the bedroom before taking off his shirt and shoes and lying down on the other bed.

  Kate tried to close her eyes but they kept coming open as her mind raced. She wondered if maybe he had good reasons for offering her a Valium and she should have taken it. After a time she turned on her side, toward him. His fingers were locked together behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

  She watched him in the near darkness for a time.

  “Are you asleep?” she whispered.

  “No. What is it?”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  “You seem to know all about me, but I don’t really know anything about you.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, do you have family? Do you have kids? A wife?”

  He simply said, “No.”

  She thought about it a moment. “What about a woman in your life? Aren’t you involved with anyone? Isn’t there a woman somewhere waiting for you? Someone you love. Someone who loves you?”

  He was silent for a long time before he finally answered.

  “I can’t afford to become involved with a woman.”

  “Because of what you do?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you don’t go out with women for fear of becoming involved?”

  He nodded without looking over at her. “It’s hard for me to explain. I suppose that seeing a woman socially is an intimate taste of what I know I can’t have.”

  “But you must have been in love before.”

  “I’m afraid not. Not even close.” He looked over. “Have you been in love?”

  “No,” Kate admitted. “A few times guys have told me they loved me, but it was pretty clear to me that they were just trying to get laid. Other than a crush or two in high school, I guess I’ve never really been in love.

  “Sometimes life gets kind of bland and empty without someone. You know? Without at least the hope of finding the right person, existence would be pretty desolate, don’t you think? I think that someday I’ll find the right guy and fall in love. You will, too.”

  After a quiet moment, he said, “That can’t ever happen. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I can’t bring a woman into my world.”