Clint Henley's atonement began on a sultry Chicago night in 1937 when a cherry-red Ford coupe eased to the curb at Maxwell Street's infamous Runaway Central. George Yustice eyed his prey through the windshield as two frightened young girls edged closer. Yustice leaned across the seat and said, "Hey, girls, ya wanna-" But the words died in his throat as the windshield exploded, and he gaped at the powerfully-built young man-axe in hand, a berserk look in his eye. And Yustice was never seen again. Optimists claimed he probably left town in a hurry that night, while pessimists smirked that he probably ended up in a nearby rendering vat. But Clint wasn't always a raving maniac. Once, he was innocent and loving-a momma's boy. But when his mother died, the bewildered lad was discarded by a callous stepfather to an orphanage where his life became a nightmare. He desperately sought to escape aboard one of the last Orphan Trains headed West-even allowed himself to hope for a good...

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