Description from Amazon:
When Melissa Carter moves into her new home, hoping it will be a fresh start for her troubled marriage, another set of eyes are watching. Eyes that have been waiting for someone like her to move into the neighbourhood. They are eyes that are taking her all in, eyes that like what they see.
The watcher is a hunter, a man who can sense weakness, vulnerability. Potential prey. He is a man who watches and waits, who plots and schemes. A man who has infinite patience in waiting for his opportunity.
And when he discovers that Melissa’s marriage hides behind a troubling truth, he obtains the crowbar that he can use to prise his way into her life.
It begins with a phone call…
A story of blackmail, obsession, exploitation, and terror – with a sting in the tail – from Janey Pilsbury.
It began as all truly dark things do, out there in the light.
‘My husband, Gary was made redundant in his last job. He works as a car mechanic, and his new job would have meant a two hour drive each way, so it makes sense to move here. This is just ten minutes away, so it’s perfect really. Seems a lovely area.’
Mrs Carter was smiling as she explained the move to the old man who would be her new next door neighbour. ‘I just feel so useless with this’, she held up her hand, waving it about like a flag. Her hand and wrist encased in a plaster cast. ‘I fell down the stairs last week; I’ll be like this for another five weeks’
She was all smiles in the sunshine while the removal team were unloading the van and gradually filling up her new home. But as she chatted, habitually shifting from foot to foot with nervous excitement, another set of eyes were watching her.
Watching and taking her all in.
He had been watching since their arrival early that morning. He had noticed the couple looking around a few weeks ago and hoped that they would be the ones to buy. He liked the look of her, liked the look a lot. The beautiful face and glossy black hair were a bonus, but what he always looked for in a woman was the body. And this one was just as he liked them, slim and lithe-looking with all the right kinds of bumps in all the right kinds of places. He loved those tits. Big enough but not too big to age badly. She was a woman who obviously took care of herself, so of course, she captured his attention. His mind was alive and crackling with the possibilities. This was a turning point. The one he had been waiting for.
He could smell it. Opportunity. It made him twitch.
His house was next to the one directly opposite, so he could sit behind the window frame and scan the activity diagonally. There she was nodding and beaming, brushing her hair from her eyes; his newly-arrived new neighbour, so happy to be here, so very pleased to be moving in. A nice woman; friendly, late thirties – clearly a lady who lunches, and her piss-thin, mean-looking, twat of a husband.
She had it all; big smile, lovely hair, white teeth, perfect body. And – best of all – close.
The watcher is a man of infinite patience, a man who watches and waits, who plots and schemes, who harbours those whom he watches nothing but ill intent.
He is the man people like Melissa Carter ought to worry about; the man women, in general, should be worried about. The man who all decent people should worry about.
He, or someone very like him, lives in your neighbourhood, much closer than you may think. You will have passed him on the street many times. But you will not have noticed him. He is nondescript; he is the local nobody; the guy you never give a second glance to. He is always below your radar. Way below.
But he likes it that way. It’s the way it has to be. He likes it that you don’t know him; He likes it that his existence is scarcely ever acknowledged. He likes it because that is all he needs.
If you are a woman reading this, if you have ever spoken to him, or if he has seen you on the street or in a shop or anywhere else he will – trust me – have imagined you naked. He will have pictured your body in his mind’s eye; he will have imagined being intimate with you, very, very intimate. He will have imagined having you; imagined humiliating you, degrading you. And he will have examined the practicalities of doing it for real.
If you are a man reading this, his squalid thoughts will have been all over the women in your life. He will have imagined being with your mother, your wife, your sister, even, perhaps especially so, your grown-up daughter…
He sits, he watches, he plans, he makes his moves, he executes.
He is the threat you think only even happens to others.
He is all the bad news.
He is your unfriendly neighbourhood watcher.