WATCHERS by Dean R. Koontz

double entendres or other offenses—seemed sure to encourage rather than deter

him.

He stared at her with unsettling intensity, voraciously. His smile was that of a

predator.

She sensed the best way to handle Streck was to pretend innocence and monumental

thick headedness, to ignore his nasty sexual innuendos as if she had not

understood them. She must, in short, deal with him as a mouse might deal with

any threat from which it was unable to flee. Pretend you do not see the cat,

pretend that it is not there, and perhaps the cat will be confused and

disappointed by the lack of reaction and will seek more responsive prey

elsewhere.

To break away from his demanding gaze, Nora tore a couple of paper towels from

the dispenser beside the sink and began to mop up the water she had spilled on

the floor. But the moment she stooped before Streck, she realized she’d made a

mistake, because he did not move out of her way but stood over her, loomed over

her, while she squatted in front of him. The situation was full of erotic

symbolism. When she realized the submissiveness implied by her position at his

feet, she popped up again and saw that his smile had broadened.

Flushed and flustered, Nora threw the damp towels into the waste can under the

sink.

Art Streck said, “Cooking, needlepoint . . . yeah, I think that’s real nice,

real nice. What other things do you like to do?”

“That’s it, I’m afraid,” she said. “I don’t have any unusual hobbies. I’m not a

very interesting person. Low-key. Dull, even.”

Damning herself for being unable to order the bastard out of her house, she

slipped past him and went to the oven, ostensibly to check that it was finished

preheating, but she was really just trying to get out of Streck’s reach.

He followed her, staying close. “When I pulled up out front, I saw lots of

flowers. You tend the flowers?”

Staring at the oven dials, she said, “Yes . . . I like gardening.”

“I approve of that,” he said, as if she ought to care whether he approved or

not. “Flowers . . . that’s a good thing for a woman to have an interest in.

Cooking, needlepoint, gardening—why you’re just full of womanly interests and

talents. I’ll bet you do everything well, Mrs. Devon. I mean everything a woman

should do. I’ll bet you’re a first-rate woman in every department.”

If be touches me, I’ll scream, she thought.

However, the walls of the old house were thick, and the neighbors were some

distance away. No one would hear her or come to her rescue.

I’ll kick him, she thought. I’ll fight back.

But, in fact, she was not sure that she would fight, was not sure that she had

the gumption to fight. Even if she did attempt to defend herself, he was bigger

and stronger than she was.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you’re a first-rate woman in every department,” he repeated,

delivering the line more provocatively than before.

Turning from the oven, she forced a laugh. “My husband would be astonished to

hear that. I’m not too bad at cakes, but I’ve still not learned to make a decent

piecrust, and my pot roast always turns out bone-dry. My needlepoint’s not half

bad, but it takes me forever to get anything done.” She slipped past him and

returned to the counter. She was amazed to hear herself chattering on as she

opened the box of icing mix. Desperation made her garrulous. “I’ve got a green

thumb with flowers, but I’m not much of a housekeeper, and if my husband didn’t

help out—why, this place would be a disaster.”

She thought she sounded phony. She detected a note of hysteria in her voice that

had to be evident to him. But the mention of a husband had obviously given Art

Streck second thoughts about pushing her further. As Nora poured the mix into a

bowl and measured out the required butter, Streck drank the water she had given

him. He went to the sink and put the empty glass in the dishpan with the dirty

bowls and utensils. This time he did not press unnecessarily close to her.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *