“Helena is in New York,” he said. “She doesn’t know where I am.”

“Good,” I said. “Keep it that way.”

I hung up before he could ask anything else.

Sarah looked at me, her eyes wide under her wet hood.

“He’s here?” she asked.

“Wacker Drive,” I said. “We don’t have to go to New York yet.”

We hurried down the alley, the cold wind whipping off the Chicago River.

Our boots splashed through shallow puddles.

We found a yellow cab on the corner of Grand Avenue.

The heater in the taxi blew dusty, warm air over our damp clothes.

I held my coat tight against my chest, feeling the hard edges of the flash drives in my pocket.

My heart was beating in my throat.

The city lights smeared across the wet glass of the window.

I thought of Leo, Toby, and Sam, sleeping safely at my sister’s house.

I was doing this for them.

The drive to the Loop took twenty minutes through the evening traffic.

The Harrington Tower rose seventy stories into the low, gray clouds.