The Blonde

5:07 a.m.

Spring Garden Station

Two bright lights, coming out of the tunnel and up the tracks toward the concrete platform. The El. For the first time all night, Jack felt like he was on familiar turf. He knew Chicago and its El system cold; how hard could Philadelphia’s be to navigate? The train rumbled and hissed to a stop. The doors opened.

Eastbound Frankford train maki?ig all stops, an automated voice said.

First disappointing development: The El car was empty. The train was headed eastbound. Guess nobody went eastbound this time of the morning.

Second disappointing development: Angela made her way to the opposite end of the car. Which meant he had to follow her.

The doors closed behind him.

Okay, this can’t be that tough. Wait until she sits, then sit two rows behind her. That had to be within ten feet, easy.

The train bucked forward. Jack almost lost his footing. He reached out and grabbed a steel pole, then made his way forward. He could feel a throb in his temples already. He was too far away.

The steel cars accelerated along the track, then dipped down below the eight lanes of 1-95, hanging a soft left along the side of an old church—one that had probably been here before the highway cut along one corner of it, and the El alongside it—before settling in for a straight shot until the next station. According to the map, that would be Girard. Jack counted up the line. Quite a few stations, at least a dozen, before the end of the line. Hopefully, Angela was going to the end of the line. It would give him time to think.

He chose the double seat two rows behind Angela. She’d pressed herself up against the window and was busy looking out at the tops of the buildings speeding by.

The track made a sharp turn. The train jolted violently. Jack almost fell again.

He sat down. The blue striped fabric of the seat was stained in places, and worn to beads in others. It sagged in the middle, as if someone had removed a central support. The entire cushion was loosened from its moorings, too.

Philadelphia. Fucking shit town.

The train pulled into the next station. Girard. Several people were waiting on the opposite platform, headed back downtown. Nobody stepped into their car.

Here’s the thing, Angela. I’ve got an experimental tracking device in my blood, and …

Look, Angela, I know we got off to a bad start, but I have this weird mental condition where …

Yeah. Mention a mental condition. See where that gets you.

Jack looked at his watch. It was …