Makita padded off to his bed, but even after he curled up, he kept lifting his head as though he was trying to figure out what had changed, what was going on.

“That’s right,” Amarok said. “At Hanover House in Alaska. And I’m calling from Alaska. You can tell by the area code, right?”

“She’s missing?” she said uncertainly.

“Since one o’clock today. At least, that was when she left the prison. It was nearly four when I found the contents of her purse scattered over the ground and only one of her shoes.”

There was a brief pause. Then she said, “Fine. He’s here, okay? You can quit worrying about him and look elsewhere, because it’s not Bishop. He’s no longer on a feeding tube, but he isn’t capable of much.”

Amarok dropped his head in his hand and began to massage his forehead.

“Sergeant Murphy?” she said. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah. I heard. Thank you,” he said, and hung up.

Phil watched him expectantly. “So? What’d they say?”

“It’s not Lyman Bishop. I can’t believe I let Jasper convince me it might be.”

“Who then?”

“I’m going over to speak to the Ledstetters.”

“Sandy’s family? Why? They’ve never hurt anyone.”

“They hate Evelyn, blame her for Sandy’s death. You should see the way they look at her if they happen to see her at the Moosehead or elsewhere. She pretends she doesn’t notice, but I can tell it bothers her.”

“Sandy died eighteen months ago, Amarok. Don’t you think Davie or Junior would’ve done something by now—if they were going to?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Of course I do. I’ve always liked Davie and Junior. But right now, it’s the only lead I’ve got.”

Minneapolis, MN—Tuesday, 11:00 p.m. CST

Lyman Bishop frowned as he lifted the remote to turn off the television that hung on the wall.

“What the hell?” Terry Lovett, a janitor about thirty-five years old, paced beside Lyman’s bed. “Why wasn’t it on there?” he asked, referring to the late-night news.

“Because it’s too soon.” Lyman too had thought Evelyn’s abduction would be reported right away. He’d been counting on it, but he couldn’t let on that this wasn’t something he’d anticipated. He had to maintain Terry’s confidence, pretend as though he had everything under control. Seeing Evelyn’s abduction on the news tonight wasn’t critical, anyway. They’d just have to wait an additional day for word to spread. He wanted to be in Minneapolis when the news broke.

“How long can it take?” Sweat beaded on Terry’s forehead even though it wasn’t the least bit hot. And Terry wasn’t overweight. He was just worried, anxious.

Lyman watched him curiously. He found this manifestation of Terry’s anxiety rather odd, since he’d never been nervous enough to have that kind of physiological reaction. “It’ll probably be tomorrow.”

He pivoted at the wall. “And if it’s not?”

“It will be. Dr. Talbot’s a prominent figure. The press will pick up on her disappearance soon. Then, as Sergeant Murphy—or anyone else who gets involved—starts searching for her, they’ll check to make sure I’m still in this terrible place. And once they confirm it, they’ll assume I couldn’t possibly be responsible, that it was a stretch to even consider it, and you won’t have to worry about anyone pointing a finger in your direction when I come up missing.”