Chapter TwelveHe spent hours traveling to the safe house. First, he returned the rental and then hopped aboard the subway. He changed trains three times, crossing underneath much of New York.
On the third train, around two in the morning, Nathan found himself sitting quietly while a young woman huddled in the back of the car, her head buried in a book, hoping to be ignored. A homeless man slept on the opposite side. The rest of the car was empty. Until four young men climbed aboard.
They reeked of alcohol and dressed like a gang, though they were unusually diverse — two Latinos, a black man, and their leader, an Asian fellow with a white bandanna and a sly smirk. They wanted to look tough, and they certainly had trouble on their minds. They congregated by the sliding doors, murmuring and
