WATCHERS by Dean R. Koontz

Ridge, were finished tracts where people already lived. From those residents,

the Yorba Linda Police had received calls about screaming somewhere in this

embryonic development. Because the area had not yet been annexed into the city,

the complaint fell into the jurisdiction of the Sheriff’s Department.

At the end of the street, the deputies saw a white pickup that belonged to

the company that owned Bordeaux: Tulemann Brothers. It was parked in front of

three almost-completed display models.

“Looks like there’s a foreman still here,” Ken said.

“Or maybe it’s the night watchman on duty a little early,” Tee! said.

They parked behind the truck, got out of the stiflingly hot patrol car, and

stood for a moment, listening. Silence.

Ken shouted, “Hello! Anybody here?”

His voice echoed back and forth through the deserted tract.

Ken said, “You want to look around?”

“Shit, no,” Teel said. “But let’s do it.”

Ken still did not believe anything was wrong at Bordeaux Ridge. The pickup could

have been left behind at the end of the day. After all, other equipment remained

on the tract overnight: a couple of Bob-cats on a long-bed truck, a backhoe. And

it was still likely that the reported screaming had been kids playing.

They grabbed flashlights from the car because, even if electric service to the

tract had been connected, there were no lamps or ceiling lights in the

unfinished structures.

Resettling their gunbelts on their hips more out of habit than out of any belief

that they would need weapons, Ken and Teel walked through the nearest of the

partially framed houses. They were not looking for anything in particular, just

going through the motions, which was half of all police work.

A mild and inconstant breeze sprang up, the first of the day, and blew sawdust

ghosts through the open sides of the house. The sun was falling rapidly

westward, and the wall studs cast prison-bar shadows across the floor. The last

light of the day, which was changing from gold to muddy red, imparted a soft

glow to the air like that around the open door of a furnace. The concrete pad

was littered with nails that winked in the fiery light and clinked underfoot.

“For a hundred and eighty thousand bucks,” Tee! said, probing into black corners

with the beam of his flashlight, “I’d expect rooms a little bigger than these.”

Taking a deep breath of sawdust-scented air, Ken said, “Hell, I’d expect rooms

as big as airport lounges.”

They stepped out of the back of the house, into a shallow rear yard, where they

switched off their flashes. The bare, dry earth was not landscaped. It was

littered with the detritus of construction’: scraps of lumber, chunks of broken

concrete, rumpled pieces of tarpaper, tangled loops of wire, more nails, useless

lengths of PVC pipe, cedar shingles discarded by roofers, Styrofoam soft-drink

cups and Big Mac containers, empty Coke cans, and less identifiable debris.

No fences had yet been constructed, so they had a view of all twelve backyards

along this street. Purple shadows seeped across the sandy soil, but they could

see that all the yards were deserted.

“No signs of mayhem,” Tee! said.

“No damsels in distress,” Ken said.

“Well, let’s at least walk along here, look between buildings,” Teel said. “We

ought to give the public something for their money.”

Two houses later, in the thirty-foot-wide pass-through between structures, they

found the dead man.

“Damn,” Teel said.

The guy was lying on his back, mostly in shadow, with only the lower half of his

body revealed in the dirty-red light, and at first Ken and Teel didn’t realize

what a horror they’d stumbled across. But when he knelt beside the corpse, Ken

was shocked to see that the man’s gut had been torn open.

“Jesus Christ, his eyes,” Teel said.

Ken looked up from the ravaged torso and saw empty sockets where the victim’s

eyes should have been.

Retreating into the littered yard, Tee! drew his revolver.

Ken also backed away from the mutilated corpse and slipped his own gun out of

his holster. Though he had been perspiring all day, he felt suddenly damper,

slick with a different kind of sweat, the cool, sour sweat of fear.

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