... It was dark inside.
Johnny Steel flashed his light on the stairs. There was the same red trail that had brought them here—blood, frozen as it fell. He cut the light off again instantly, pausing till his eyes got used to the darkness again. The heavy pistol was cold in his hand.
Perhaps he was crazy, coming in here alone! The Homicide Squad had certainly thought so when he'd ordered them to wait outside.
The stairs were a vague outline slanting up into the deserted building's gloom. At the top, a corridor cut off to the right.
"Floyd ..." Steel called softly. He'd told no one that he knew the man they were hunting down. "Floyd, this is Johnny Steel. I'm coming up alone...."
His voice echoed through the chill corridor above. There was no answer.
He moved slowly up the stairs. He was a big man, tall and heavy with most of the weight in his arms and shoulders. Near the corner at the top, he paused, listening in the darkness.
"Afraid to come up, Johnny?"
Steel jumped. He flattened against the wall. The hoarse voice wasn't three feet from his ear. His finger took up the slack in his pistol's trigger.