'Mr. Harris, is that you?'
'Who are you?'
'Police,' Bollinger said. He took a step toward them, then another. As
he molved he took the wallet with his badge from his inside coat pocket.
With the elevator light behind him, he knew they could see more than he
could.
'Don't come any closer,' Harris said.
Bollinger stopped. 'What's the matter?'
'I don't want you to come closer.'
'Why?'
'We don't know who you are.'
'I'm a detective. Frank Bollinger. We have an appointment for
eight-thirty. Remember?' Another step. Then another.
'How did you get up here?' Harris's voice was shrill.
He's scared to death, Bollinger thought. He smiled and said, 'Hey,
what's going on with you? Why are you so uptight? You were expecting
me.' Bollinger took slow steps, easy steps, so as not to frighten the
animals.
'How did you get up here?' Harris, asked again. 'The elevators aren't
working.'
'You're mistaken. I came up on an elevator.' He held the badge in
front of him in his left hand, arm extended, hoping the light from
behind would gleam on the gold finish. He had covered perhaps a fifth
of the distance between them.
'The telephones are out,' Harris said.
'They are?' Step. Step.
He put his right hand in his coat pocket and gripped the butt of the
pistol.
Connie couldn't take her eyes off the shadowy form moving steadily
toward them. To Graham she said softly, 'You remember what you said on
the Prine show?'
'What?' His voice cracked.
Don't let the fear take you, she thought. Don't break down and leave me
to handle this alone.
She said, 'In your vision you saw that the police know the killer well.'
'What about it?'
'Maybe the Butcher is a cop.'
'Christ, that's it!'
He spoke so softly that she could barely hear him.
Bollinger kept coming, a big man, bearish. His face was in shadow.
He had closed the distance between them by at least half.
'Stop right there,' Graham said. But there was no force in his voice,
no authority.
Bollinger stopped anyway. 'Mr. Harris, you're acting very strange. I'm
a policeman. You know ... you're acting as if you've just done
something that you want to hide from me.' He took a step, another, a
third.
'The stairs?' Connie asked.
'No,' Graham said. 'We don't have enough of a lead. With my game leg,
he'd catch us in a minute.'
