The House of Thunder
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#1 New York Times bestselling author Dean Koontz delivers a chilling novel of a traumatized woman and the terrifying place she?ll never escape.
in one corner and tumbles down a series of ledges. The sound of the falling water echoes off the limestone, so there’s a continuous rumbling in the place.” The memory was still far too vivid for her to speak of it without feeling the cold, clammy air of the cavern. She shivered and pulled the blankets across her outstretched legs. McGee’s gaze met hers. In his eyes there was understanding and compassion. She could see that he knew how painful it was for her to talk about Jerry Stein. The
Do you know his name?” “Yes, of course. He’s Peter Johnson. Nice enough guy, if a little bit on the talky side. He’s always coming out here to chat, and I’m beginning to fall behind on my record-keeping because of it.” Susan blinked. “Peter Johnson? Are you sure of that? Are you sure his name’s not Randy Lee Quince?” The nurse frowned. “Quince? No. It’s Peter Johnson, all right. I’m sure of that.” Talking to herself as much as to the nurse, Susan said, “Thirteen years ago ... back in
to recognize it when he saw it. The tests would provide an answer, perhaps not quickly but eventually. McGee was now taking the first tentative steps toward putting an end to her ordeal. She was sure of it. “Calm as a clam,” she said. “Oyster,” he said. “Why oyster?” “It seems to fit you better.” “Oh, you think I look more like an oyster than like a clam?” “No. Pearls are found in oysters.” She laughed. “I’ll bet you’re a shameless come-on artist in a singles’ bar.”
been going every winter, Murf? My travel agent always told me it was Mesopotamia.” “I’m afraid you’ve got a crooked travel agent, Phil. You’ve probably been going to New Jersey.” The elevator doors opened, and Susan stiffened, but there were no dead men waiting. “No, I’m sure I’ve never been to New Jersey, Murf.” “Lucky for New Jersey, Phil.” Dammit, I can’t live like this! Susan thought grimly as they rolled her out of the elevator and into the second-floor corridor. I just can’t
out. She wasn’t going to throw herself from a speeding car. And even if she could get out of the car without killing herself, she wouldn’t be able to run. She wouldn’t even be able to walk very far. The effect of the drugs had begun to fade, and she felt strength returning to her legs again, but she was nevertheless exhausted, virtually helpless. Besides, maybe McGee was telling the truth this time. She wouldn’t want to bet her life on it. But maybe. He said, “KGB agents kidnapped you while