Chapter 40

Lawson had pulled over to the curb and rolled down his window. “Hey kid,” he called.

Arliss wanted to do a double take and look behind him, but even at his age he knew how movie-cliché stupid that would look. He sidled over to the Jeep’s open window, feeling chilly in the late November air. A grimy film of snow from last week still hung on stubbornly to the sidewalks. He hoped he didn’t smell as bad as he figured he looked.

Lawson was leaning forward, assessing him and smiling. “What in the hell are you doing wandering around down here? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Arliss thought he could ask Lawson the same question, at least the one about what he was doing hanging around the bus station, which was not, by any standards, one of Chicago’s finer neighborhoods. But he only smiled and shrugged, not sure what he should say to this clean-cut guy.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Yeah…” Arliss finally spoke. “I came up here from Florida. Man, I am so not used to this.”