Bundled into a shearling coat, muffler, hat, mittens, and boots, Robert made his way through the underpass beneath Lake Shore Drive. It was eerily quiet. The underpass was illuminated with bright yellow lights, making everything appear sallow and used—the graffiti on the walls, the leaves and trash swirling on the concrete floor. There was no one in the underpass save for Robert. He thought even the thugs were home with family, celebrating the holiday and taking a day off from mugging silly old queens who had nothing better to do with their time than dote on undeserving boys.
He emerged into the darkness, a sharp wind off the lake making his face tingle, cutting through the heavy coat. He shivered and moved forward, concentrating on walking in a steady line. God forbid someone, law enforc
