“What are you going to do if you catch up to them? Ask the guy to dance? If you interfere with whatever it is he’s doing, he’s going to see you as a threat.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I have to find the girl first.

I keep my eyes forward and just keep jogging.

“Great,” Atlas snaps. “But if you really mean to do this we’re going to have to go a hell of a lot faster.”

When Atlas says faster, he means faster.

A guy walking a German shepherd shoots us dirty looks as Atlas streaks by the dog and down the concrete sidewalk, past the boutiques and ice-cream shop and the weekend window-shoppers. He rounds the corner, and it’s all I can do to keep up with his long strides as he cruises down the mostly residential block.

“I don’t see them,” I shout, squinting into the distance. “Do you?”

“Our scary friend just turned north at the far end of this block.” He darts to the other side of the street and I jump off the curb and follow. “We’ll take the alley and do our best to catch up. Let’s just hope she’s quicker than you.”

Okay, the insult did the trick.

I ignore the fire building in my chest, dodge a skateboarding kid, and keep pace right behind Atlas. If Atlas is right about the Marshal and the girl, what we do next could save someone like me from losing a person they love.

Our footsteps slap against pavement.

Atlas shifts the bag on his shoulder before it can slide off and somehow manages to not slow down.

My chest is about to burst. My legs burn.

Atlas glances back, his forehead glazed with sweat, and gives me an approving half grin for mostly keeping up. That smile fuels me to keep going until the alley dumps us out onto the next sidewalk.

“At the end of the block.” Atlas points. “See her?”

She’s easy to spot because other than Atlas and me, there’s no one on this street filled with three-story town houses or apartment buildings.

A dog barks somewhere nearby. The girl glances at us, then heads in the opposite direction from where we stand. Her back is to us, so there is no chance to signal to her that something is wrong.

“Where’s the guy?” I say between pants, but see the answer to my own question come into view at the corner about twenty steps behind the girl. The guy with the sunglasses pauses and looks down at the phone in his hand.

“They’ll make their move soon.”

“They?”

Atlas nods. “This block is quiet. Almost no one’s around. Perfect time for a grab. If we’re going to stop them, it has to be now. You ready?”

No. But I started this. So I guess I have to be.

Atlas pulls his backpack off his shoulder, lofts it in the air, and yells, “Well, if you want this bag back, you’re going to have to catch me.”