'Are you all right?'
'Uh, yes, I'm fine.'
'I'm sorry to call you on a Thursday evening, but I was becoming concerned about you. You've never missed an appointment and then not called.'
Thursday! His weekly appointment with her was on Wednesday afternoons, and he had completely forgotten about it.
'I'm sorry. I was in the hospital.'
'What's wrong?'
He could hear the concern in her voice, underneath the patrician professionalism.
'I'm okay now.'
'Was it…?'
'I had an infection of the brain. Bacterial meningitis.'
'That can be very serious. Are you sure you're all right?'
'Yes. I was just asleep, that's all. I'm sorry I didn't call you.'
'Never mind. I'm just concerned about you.'
'Look, I'd like to reschedule, but I think we're closing in on this guy.'
'The Slasher, you mean? That's wonderful.'
'Yes.' He tried to sound hopeful and positive, but knew he had failed.
'You feel conflicted about it.'
He stared out into the blackened sky. The stained-glass window on the Ukrainian church now reflected only pale lamplight.
'Maybe you identify with him. You told me that you believe he has an absent father and controlling mother.'
'Yes, but-'
'So in some ways, you may feel that his rage is your rage.'
A terrible thought crowded itself into his mind. Though he was, in every way, luckier than this young man, Lee realized that he felt an unwelcome emotion.
'It sounds awful, but I think I envy him just a little.'
'What do you envy about him?'
'Because I have to swallow my rage, and he gets to act it out.'
'So you wish you could be like him?'
He took a breath and held it. 'Yes. I wish sometimes I could just be a murderer.'
There was a pause, and Lee heard the click of call waiting.
'Dr. Williams, will you excuse me? There's another call coming in, and I really should get it.'
'Of course. Why don't you just call me when you're ready to see me?'
'I will. Thank you for understanding.'
He clicked the receiver button and picked up the second call. It was Nelson, and he sounded stone-cold sober.
'I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me for acting like a damn fool?'
'Of course,' Lee answered.
He filled Nelson in on his theory about the locksmith store.
'That makes sense,' he agreed, 'because he would probably have a van with the company logo on it-a perfect way to transport the bodies.'
'And a place to do the killing away from prying eyes.'
'Yeah, that too,' Nelson said. 'So what did he say to you in the hospital?'
'He went on about being a servant of God, that kind of thing.'
'Anything else?'
'Not really-mostly how he was on a holy mission.'
'So he's a true believer.'
'Looks like it.' The sound of the killer's voice was still fresh in his ears, and Lee continued to have the feeling he had heard it before-but where? An image popped into his head of Nelson lecturing in the crowded classroom, and then it struck him. The voice belonged to the thin young man at the far end of the hall-whose face he had never seen.
'Do you have a listing of all the students signed up for your class?' he said.
'Why do you ask?'
'Do you remember that thin blond boy with the raspy voice?'
'Let's see…I think so.'
'Who is he?'
'I don't recall his name offhand, but he said he was doing a makeup class or two because he missed a lecture in Dr. Zellinger's class.'
'I think that's him.'
'You mean him?'
'Yeah-I think he's the Slasher.'
'Oh my God. If you're right, then he could have posed as building maintenance, or even picked a lock on a side door.'
'Sure,' Lee answered. 'The main security gate at John Jay is up front, but no one guards the side entrances.'
'So he's been watching us all this time.'
'That explains how he knew who I was-and you too.'
'Damn. So we had him under our noses all that time! Goddamn it!'
'Let's just focus on getting him, okay? I'll see you first thing tomorrow morning.'
'Right.'
After he hung up, Lee looked at the Seth Thomas clock on the mantelpiece, a gift from his mother. It was ten o' clock.
He looked out the window one last time before going to bed. He could feel the Slasher, out there in the darkness, waiting for him, waiting,
'I'm coming,' Lee whispered. 'Ready or not, here I come.'
Chapter Sixty-two
By 8:30 the next morning all the members of the task force were seated around the table in the conference room, a pile of phone books scattered over the big oval table. Florette and his sergeant sat at two computer terminals, doing their search online, while the rest of them leafed through the Queens phone book.
'Not too many locksmith shops will have Web sites, I'd think,' Chuck said, peering over their shoulder.
Florette turned to look up at him. 'Maybe, but you never know.'
'What are we lookin' for, exactly?' Butts sneezed as he dialed a number. He was coming down with a cold, and his pockets bulged with tissues.
'Names and addresses of the owners,' Lee replied.
'How will we know when we find the right one?'
'We won't,' Nelson growled from the corner, where he sat, sucking at an unlit cigarette, a phone book balanced on his lap. He was looking more cheerful than the previous day, since as it turned out, the FBI was too swamped to send anyone for at least a week.
'We'll just start within a three-mile radius of the church, and go outward from there,' Lee said. 'Assuming that he lives near his shop-'
'Which is a pretty big assumption,' Butts sniffled.
'Which, I was just going to say, is a pretty big assumption.'
'Hey,' Butts said, 'do you remember the day that first girl died, and a locksmith showed up at the church?
