CHAPTER FIVE
Atticus read the crowd as they approached him. All young women, wearing winter jackets and carrying placards that could become murder weapons.
“How about you stop torturing rats and we’ll stop chasing you?” someone asked.
He glanced down the street to the entrance of the Alsatius Building. A police officer sat in a squad car, facing the opposite direction.
The hair on his neck rose. Something told him to run, and he did, straight toward the stairs of the L station a block away.
Footsteps scudded on the sidewalk behind him.
“We’re going to hold you accountable!” someone shouted.
Jesus. They were going to rip him apart. And that was if he was lucky.
Distance was on his side. He was bolting up the riveted stairs to the L station faster than he thought his feet would carry
