She closed the door and put the bolt lock in place and turned to him a
him and said, 'Whatever trouble-' Moving quickly for such a large man he
slammed her against the door, brought up the knife, shifted it from his
left hand to his right hand, and lightly pricked her throat with the
point of the blade.
Her green eyes were very wide. She'd had the breath knocked out of her
and could not scream.
'No noise,' Bollinger said fiercely. 'if you try to call for help, I'll
push this pig sticker straight into your lovely throat.
I'll ram it right out the back of your neck. Do you understand?'
She stared at him.
'Do you understand?'
'Yes,' she said thinly.
'Are you going to cooperate?'
She said nothing. Her gaze traveled down from his eyes, over his proud
nose and full lips and strong jaw-line, down to his fist and to the
handle of the knife.
'If you aren't going to cooperate,' he said quietly, 'I can skewer you
right here. I'll pin you to the damn door.' He was breathing hard.
A tremor passed through her.
He grinned.
Still trembling, she said, 'What do you want?'
'Not much. Not very much at all. just a little loving.' She closed
her eyes. 'Are you-him?'
Dew R Kovatz A slender, all but invisible thread of blood trickled from
beneath the needlelike point of the knife, slid along her throat to the
neck of her bright red robe. Watching the minuscule flow of blood as if
he were a an extremely rare scientist observing bacterium through a
microscope, pleased by it, nearly mesmerized by it, he said, 'Him? Who
is 'him'? I don't know what you're talking about.'
'You know,' she said weakly.
'I'm afraid not.'
'Are you him?' she bit her lip. 'The one who-who's cut up all those
other women?'
Looking up from her throat, he said, 'I see. I see how it is. Of
course. You mean the one they call the Butcher. You think I'm the
Butcher.'
'Are you?'
'I've been reading a great deal about him in the Daily News. He slits
their throats, doesn't he? From one ear to the other. Isn't that
right?' He was teasing her and enjoying himself immensely.
'Sometimes he even disembowels them. Doesn't he? Correct me if I'm
wrong. But that's what he does sometimes, isn't it?'
She said nothing.
'I believe I read in the News that he sliced the ears off one of them.
When the police found her, her ears were on the nightstand beside her
bed.'
She shuddered more violently than ever.
'Poor little Edna. You think I'm the Butcher. No wonder you're so
