Standing in his bedroom, Watcher slipped on black jeans and a long- sleeved black T-shirt. His flashlight and the Randall lay side by side next to his black sneakers.
Watcher's mind locked on a memory three years old. One cold night, after spending two adventurous hours in bed with a young sergeant's wife, Ross had just fallen asleep when Watcher slipped out of the man's closet, overpowered the older man, tied him up, and gagged him. He wrapped the naked man in a sheet and carried him, kicking and twisting, out to his waiting car. Watcher drove to an abandoned house trailer ten miles outside Fayetteville. After lashing the sergeant to a kitchen chair, Watcher had gone back into the bedroom and led in his own wife, who began sobbing when he tied her into a chair facing her lover.
Sergeant Ross begged Watcher to let him live, and cried that he was sorry about the affair. Picking up a section of heavy iron pipe from the counter, Watcher broke both of the man's knees with two swift blows. The sergeant's screams reverberated on the cheap paneling and leaked out through the broken windows, carrying over the vacant fields surrounding the trailer.
Watcher had next taken up a propane torch and lit it. Evelyn was new to violence and was certain that she was going to soon follow the sergeant's fate, so her screams were even louder than her ex- lover's. The sergeant was a fit man of forty, which helped him last two hours while Watcher first played the torch over his naked extremities and then went to work on his torso, neck, hair, and finally his face. Thick smoke and the unmistakable smell of cooking meat filled the trailer to the point that it was difficult for Watcher to see through it.
The last thing Watcher did was turn off the torch, shake up a can of spray- foam insulation, and push the plastic straw into the barely conscious man's throat. Pressing the trigger mechanism, Watcher heard the hissing as the foam shot out, filling Ross's throat with the yellow foam that expanded rapidly, oozing back out of his mouth and nostrils. That done, he removed the sticky surgeon's gloves, slipped on a second pair, and smiled at his wife, who looked at him with terrified eyes. Roughly, he tied rope around her knee, then pulled the loose end behind the chair and tied it around her other knee, opening her legs wide.
“Evelyn, my darling slut,” he said emotion-lessly aiming the straw's tip at the exposed target. “Could I interest you in a refreshing douche?”