Ted Dekker
ACCLAIM FOR TED DEKKER’S NOVELS
“As always with a Ted Dekker thriller, the detail is stunning, pointing to meticulous research in a raft of areas: police and FBI methods, forensic medicine, psychological profiling—in short, all that accompanies a Federal hunt for a serial killer. But Dekker fully reveals his magic in the latter part of the book, when he subtly introduces his darker and more frightening theme. It's all too creepily convincing. We have to keep telling ourselves that this is fiction. At the same time, we can’t help thinking that not only could it happen, but that it will happen if we’re not careful.”
—David M. Kiely and Christina McKenna, authors of The Dark Sacrament
“If you read one thriller this year—make it Adam. It’s a high-octane thriller that lays bare the battle between good and evil in a way that will stun readers.”
—-Lis Wiehl, Fox News Legal Analyst and cohost
of The Radio Factor with Bill O’Reilly
“Ted's words leap off the page with a whole new level of crackling intensity and frightening realism. You can feel him relishing every word, and each time you think this is as intense as he can take it, he tightens the screws even more. I don't say it lightly: Adam truly is the best work of Ted's career. I was obsessed from the first page.”
—Robin Parrish, author of Relentless
“Young and old alike will enjoy this latest offering. Dekker fans will love this new story from the Circle universe and new readers will undoubtedly be sucked in to the greatness that is Ted Dekker. [Chosen] is a superb beginning to what is sure to be a fantastic series.”
—Bookshelf Reviews
“Toss away all your expectations, because Showdown is one of the most original, most thoughtful, and most gripping reads I’ve been through in ages . . . Breaking all established story patterns or plot formulas, you’ll find yourself repeatedly feeling that there’s no way of predicting what will happen next . . . The pacing is dead-on, the flow is tight, and the epic story is down-right sneaky in how it unfolds. Dekker excels at crafting stories that are hard to put down, and Showdown is the hardest yet.”
—Infuze Magazine
“As a producer of movies filled with incredible worlds and heroic characters, I have high standards for the fiction I read. Ted Dekker’s novels deliver big with mind-blowing, plot-twisting page turners. Fair warning—this trilogy will draw you in at a breakneck pace and never let up. Cancel all plans before you start because you won’t be able to stop once you enter Black.”
—Ralph Winter, Producer of X-Men, X2: X-Men United, and Planet of the Apes
“[In Showdown] Dekker delivers his signature exploration of good and evil in the context of a genuine thriller that could further enlarge his already sizable audience.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Fans of Dekker and supernatural suspense will relish this creative thriller.”
-—Library Journal review of Saint
“[Blink is] compulsively readable . . . you will be astonished.”
—Jean Sasson, New York Times best-selling author of Princess
“[With THR3E] Dekker delivers another page-turner . . . masterfully takes readers on a ride of plot twists and turns . . . a compelling tale of cat and mouse . . . an almost perfect blend of suspense, mystery, and horror.”
—Publishers Weekly
ADAM
teddekker.com
DEKKER THRILLER
THR3E
Obsessed
Adam
DEKKER FANTASY
BOOKS OF HISTORY CHRONICLES
THE LOST BOOKS
Chosen
Infidel
Renegade
Chaos
THE CIRCLE TRILOGY
Black
Red
White
THE PARADISE BOOKS
Showdown
Saint
Sinner (SEPTEMBER 2008)
Skin
House (with Frank Peretti)
DEKKER MYSTERY
Blink of an Eye
Kiss (with Erin Healy—JANUARY 2009)
MARTYR’S SONG SERIES
Heaven’s Wager
When Heaven Weeps
Thunder of Heaven
The Martyr’s Song
THE CALEB BOOKS
Blessed Child
A Man Called Blessed
© 2008 by Ted Dekker
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Published in association with Thomas Nelson and Creative Trust, Inc., Literary Division, 2105 Elliston Place, Nashville, TN 37203.
Thomas Nelson, Inc. books may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fundraising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail SpecialMarkets@ThomasNelson.com.
Unless otherwise noted, scripture references are taken from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Drawing of children by Mary Hooper
Page Design by Casey Hooper
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Dekker, Ted, 1962-
Adam / Ted Dekker.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-59554-007-2 (AE)
ISBN 978-1-59554-382-0 (CE)
ISBN 978-1-59554-424-1 (IE)
I. Title.
PS3554.E43A66 2008
813'.54—dc22
2007033068
Printed in the United States of America
08 09 10 11 QW 6 5 4 3 2 1
The thief cometh not, but for to
steal, and to kill, and to destroy . . .
As quoted by John the Apostle
John 10:10
CONTENTS
MAN OF SORROW: JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
MAN OF SORROW: JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
MAN OF SORROW: JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
MAN OF SORROW: JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
MAN OF SORROW: JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
MAN OF SORROW: JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
MAN OF SORROW: JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS
TWENTY- FIVE
TWENTY- SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
MAN OF SORROW: JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY- FIVE
THIRTY- SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
MAN OF SORROW: JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS
AN EXCERPT FROM TED DEK K ER’S NEXT NOVEL . . . br />
CHAPTER ZERO
MAN OF SORROW:
JOURNEY INTO DARKNESS
by Anne Rudolph
Crime Today magazine is pleased to present Anne Rudolph’s narrative account of the killer now known as Alex Price, presented in nine monthly installments titled “Man of Sorrow: Journey into Darkness.” Rudolph’s award-winning investigative reporting provides us with a rarely seen glimpse of good and evil at work within our society today.
1964
NO ONE—not the migrant workers who remember seeing the baby kicking stubby legs while he lay on a brown blanket next to the fields, not the Arkansas farmers who chuckled while poking the child’s belly, certainly not his adoring father and mother, Lorden and Betty Price—could possibly imagine that the brown-eyed baby boy named Alex Price, born August 18, 1964, would one day stalk innocence like a wolf stalking a wounded lamb.
Then again, 1964 was more than four decades before Alex Price began the calculated cycle of terror that would end the lives of so many young women.
As the children of migrant workers themselves, Lorden and Betty Price had grown up with the same strong work ethic many migrant field workers shared throughout the south in the 1940s and 1950s. Devout Catholics, they planned on instilling love and sound moral sensibilities into whatever children God blessed them with.
They regularly attended Mass at a small cathedral in nearby Conway off Route 78, where the faithful congregated each Sunday. With just a little more fortune, a little more education, a few more helpful people, Lorden could have opened up his own mechanic shop, according to those who knew him. He had a way with machines that impressed the local farmers.
The small family of three lived rent-free in a trailer on the back side of the Hope farm, a deal brokered with Bill Hope in exchange for Lorden’s extra help maintaining all of the farm vehicles. Bill even loaned Lorden his 1953 Dodge truck for transportation. All things considered, the Prices were doing pretty well for themselves when little Alex came into the world.
“Cutest little bundle of boy you ever did saw,” Constance Jersey recalls with a soft smile and tired eyes. “They used to tote him around in one of those wire buggies Lorden had found in the dump and fixed up. Didn’t matter what they put him in, you couldn’t make that boy stop smiling and cooing as if he was the luckiest soul in the whole wide world.”
Other workers remember Lorden racing up and down the cotton-field roads late one day, sticking his head out of the truck, hollering for Betty and demanding to know where Alex was. Seems he’d misplaced both of them and panicked. He found them in the barn, taking a break from the hot sun.
When Alex was one year old, Betty gave birth to a beautiful, blondehaired, seven-pound, two-ounce baby girl whom they named Jessica. Lorden was the kind of man who made sure every person he met knew just how adorable his children were, and he didn’t have to work hard to accomplish this task.
“They’re going to college,” he announced to his coworkers one hot day in the cotton field. The cotton industry was taking a downturn in the midsixties, replaced by the more profitable corn market. The work was hard and the pay was hardly enough to keep a family alive. “I swear, they’re going to college if it’s the last thing I do.”
The coworkers gave him no mind. The idealist in Lorden frequently made such bold announcements, but life as a blue-collar worker in Faulkner County in 1965 didn’t hold out much hope for anything so extravagant as attending the University of Central Arkansas in nearby Conway. Still, Lorden repeated his intentions often, claiming that they would one day make some real money in the factories up north, and send their children to college.
Just over a year after Jessica’s birth, as winter set into central Arkansas, Lorden announced to his wife that Bill Hope had agreed to let him take the truck up to Chicago for an extended visit with relatives who’d left Arkansas several years earlier, hoping to work in the factories. The Prices packed their belongings in two large suitcases, bid their neighbors farewell, and headed down the dusty road.
The Dodge pickup returned nearly five weeks later laden with gifts from the north. José Menendez, who lived with his wife, Estella, in a second trailer near the Prices, remembers the day clearly. “You gotta understand that them Prices was a frugal bunch. They didn’t spend money on much unless it was for the kids. The smiles on their faces when they came back with that haul had us all thinking about going up north to work in the factories.”
A perfectly good washing machine. Two new suitcases full of clothes, mostly for little Alex and Jessica. But the chainsaw was Lorden’s prize. He cut enough firewood that first week to last both them and the neighbors two winters, José recalled.
The first four years of Alex Price’s life can only be reconstructed from the memories of people like the Menendezes and the Hopes. Hearing it all, one has to wonder what would have become of Alex had his parents been allowed to continue their slow but deliberate gain on a happy life.
Would they have moved to Chicago and sent the children to a public school while they saved up the money for a secondary education? Would Alex have grown up on the farm, then finally opened the shop his father only dreamed of?
The night of January 15, 1968, was warm by Arkansas standards, a balmy 51 degrees according to the weather service records. Heavy, dark clouds hung over most of Faulkner County.
Betty tucked Alex, then four, and Jessica, who was three, in their twin beds in the back bedroom, sang them a soft song as she did every night, said their prayers, and turned off the lights. José Menendez recalled that the Price’s mobile home, which stood only fifty yards from their own, was already dark when he went out for wood at eight thirty.
The crickets sang in the nearby forest; otherwise, the night was quiet. At approximately 1:45 a.m. Lorden was awakened by a creaking noise, a fairly common sound in the Price house, which was set on an unstable foundation and easily shaken by wind. Only when it occurred to him that there was no howling wind did Lorden open his eyes and listen more carefully. It was the absence of wind that awakened him, he later told the police.
The screen door squealed in the dark, and Lorden sat upright. A faint, muffled cry reached his ears.
Now panicked, Lorden threw off the blanket and ran into the tiny living room. He saw that the front door was open, but his mind was on the children’s bedroom. Barging through the doorway, he saw a sight that would haunt him for years to come.
Two empty beds.
“I couldn’t think. I just couldn’t think,” he later recalled. He stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the empty white sheets for a few long seconds before crying out and sprinting out of the house.
A Ford pickup truck was parked on the gravel driveway. The driver’s door slammed and for a moment Lorden saw the shapes inside: an adult wearing a cowboy hat sat in the driver’s seat, and another with long hair was shoving Alex and Jessica into the truck from the passenger’s side. Freed from the hands that had muzzled them, both children began to cry.
Lorden ran toward the truck but was only halfway across the lawn when it rumbled to life and jerked forward, spewing gravel.
Now in a mindless panic, Lorden ran for the Chevy, started the engine, and took off after the disappearing pickup. Betty ran from the house, screaming his name. He had the presence of mind to shove open the passenger door and call out for her to report the kidnapping to the county sheriff. She would have to call from the main ranch house.
Lorden had a difficult time remembering what happened next. “I couldn’t think!” he repeated later. “I just couldn’t . . . couldn’t figure it, I couldn’t think!”
In an understandable state of anxiety, the father raced down the driveway, took a hard left at the first fork, following the Ford pickup’s dust, and pushed the old Chevy to its limits. His eyes were on the set of taillights two turns ahead.
The next corner turned ninety degrees to the left, and Lorden overshot it in a full slide. The truck came to a crashing stop in the ditch beyond.
U
nable to restart the truck, Lorden exited the vehicle and ran after the distant taillights, calling out to the Menendez trailer on his right. José ran out, and a breathless Lorden yelled that someone had just taken Alex and Jessica.
But without a truck, José was powerless to give chase. And by the time he got to the Hope ranch house to call the police, the Ford pickup was long out of sight.
Bill Hope reported the kidnapping to the Faulkner County sheriff at 1:56 a.m., then jumped in his car with José and headed for the county road nearly a mile away. They found Lorden Price at the intersection pacing, staring down the long strip of empty asphalt that stretched empty in both directions.
“It was the most horrible sight I’d yet seen,” José recounts. “The man had run about a mile and was near a breakdown. He had that look of death on him.”
Without a clue as to which direction the kidnappers had fled, Lorden couldn’t decide where to take the chase, so Bill Hope headed east. The road ran through a forested region without streetlamps, and the dark clouds blocked the last hint of light from the sky. They raced east, following the spread of their headlights, nothing else.
They couldn’t have calmed Lorden Price in those first ten minutes if they’d wanted to. But as the road yielded nothing of promise, he soon grew silent in the backseat. Bill slowed the car after fifteen minutes and asked Lorden if he wanted to try the other direction.
Lorden didn’t respond. He just lay down on the backseat and sobbed. “It was horrible,” José said. “Just horrible.”
Sheriff Rob Green received the call to investigate a kidnapping at the Hope Ranch at 1:59 a.m. He tossed his cold coffee and immediately headed out. Officer Peter Morgan from the Conway police department also responded to the call. Both had arrived on the scene by the time Bill Hope, José Menendez, and Lorden Price returned.
The Prices’ home in Arkansas
Police sketch of Adam and Jessica Price
While Lorden did his best to calm his hysterical wife, the officers started processing the crime scene. An all points bulletin was immediately issued for a truck matching Lorden’s description. Although kidnapping was not a common occurrence, all of the law-enforcement officers knew how critical the first few hours of search were. A trail is only a trail as long as it remains discernable.