Read Online Rose Madder by Stephen King - Free Book Online Page B

that’s what I’d like to know! Get outta my way!” And she pushed by Rosie so violently she almost knocked her into the gutter. Rosie watched her go with a kind of stupefied amazement, then turned and went on her way.
6
    S he walked more slowly than ever up Elk, a street of small shops—dry-cleaning establishments, florists, delis with fruit displays out front on the sidewalk, stationers’. She was now so tired she didn’t know how long she would be able to remain on her feet, let alone keep walking. She felt a lift when she came to Durham Avenue, but it was only temporary. Had Mr. Slowik told her to turn right or left on Durham? She couldn’t remember. She tried right and found the numbers going up from the mid-four hundreds.
    â€œPar for the course,” she muttered, and turned around again. Ten minutes later she was standing in front of a very large white frame house (which was indeed in serious need of paint), three stories high and set back behind a big, well-kept lawn. The shades were pulled. There were wicker chairs on the porch, almost a dozen of them, but none was currently occupied. There was no sign reading Daughters and Sisters, but the street-number on the column to the left of the steps leading to the porch was 251. She made her way slowly up the flagged walk and then the steps, her purse now hanging at her side.
    They’re going to send you away, a voice whispered. They’ll send you away, then you can head on back to the bus station. You’ll want to get there early, so you can stake out a nice piece of floor.
    The doorbell had been covered over with layers of electrician’s tape, and the keyhole had been plugged with metal. To the left of the door was a keycard slot that looked brand-new, and an intercom box above it. Below the box was a small sign which read VISITORS PRESS AND SPEAK.
    Rosie pressed. In the course of her long morning’s tramp she had rehearsed several things she might say, several ways she might introduce herself, but now that she was actually here, even the least clever and most straightforward of her possible opening gambits had gone out of her head. Her mind was a total blank. She simply let go of the button and waited. The seconds passed, each one like a little chunk of lead. She was reaching for the button again when a woman’svoice came out of the speaker. It sounded tinny and emotionless.
    â€œCan I help you?”
    Although the man with the moustache outside The Wee Nip had frightened her and the pregnant woman had amazed her, neither had made her cry. Now, at the sound of this voice, the tears came—there was nothing at all she could do to stop them.
    â€œI hope someone can,” Rosie said, wiping at her cheeks with her free hand. “I’m sorry, but I’m in the city all by myself, I don’t know anyone, and I need a place to stay. If you’re all full I understand, but could I at least come in and sit for awhile and maybe have a glass of water?”
    There was more silence. Rosie was reaching for the button again when the tinny voice asked who had sent her.
    â€œThe man in the Travelers Aid booth at the bus station. David Slowik.” She thought that over, then shook her head. “No, that’s wrong. Peter. His name was Peter, not David.”
    â€œDid he give you a business card?” the tinny voice asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œPlease find it.”
    She opened her purse and rummaged for what felt like hours. Just as fresh tears began to prick at her eyes and double her vision, she happened on the card. It had been hiding beneath a wad of Kleenex.
    â€œI have it,” she said. “Do you want me to put it through the letter-slot?”
    â€œNo,” the voice said. “There’s a camera right over your head.”
    She looked up, startled. There was indeed a camera mounted over the door and looking down at her with its round black eye.
    â€œHold it up to the camera,