Frantic

HE HAD COMMITTED THE PERFECT MURDER AND NOW …
Hunched on the elevator floor, caged in his mechanical prison, Julien tried to sort out his thoughts. How long would he have to stay here? His brain ground out the answer he'd been avoiding. A day and two nights. Thirty-six hours.

Monday morning the janitor would turn on the current. Until then he was trapped, absolutely alone in the huge office building. Not quite. Besides himself there was a corpse: Bordgris.

He had to get out. No matter what. Never let anyone guess about the elevator. Allow no possible connection to spring up between him and Bordgris. But first—he had to get out.

In a frenzy he flung himself against the door. There was a click. Wild with hope, he forced his fingers around the edge, pulled on the door with all his strength. Slowly, the door began to give.