Bishop gazed complacently at the traffic that surrounded him in St. Paul. “Have you heard of Swede Hollow?”

“No.”

“It’s a ravine just off Seventh Street, near the old Hamm’s Brewery.”

“I know where that is.…”

“Then you can find it easily enough. Pick me up at the Metropolitan State University off Seventh, which is right by there, too, and I’ll pay you. Then you can take me to the airport.”

“I thought you said your flight doesn’t leave until Saturday morning.”

“It doesn’t, but I don’t want to worry about getting a room and another ride. I’ll wait there.”

“Okay, but why are we going somewhere so close to downtown? Won’t there be scads of people?”

“Swede Hollow is very secluded. Did you know it used to be a shantytown until the 1950s, when the city knocked it down and kicked out the squatters? Hardly anyone even knew it existed, but there’d been people living down there without any electricity or water for over a hundred years.”

“No. How do you know all that?”

“Oh, an article I once read.” Lyman saw no need to tell him that he’d buried a body in the park once, a woman by the name of Starr Hoffman, who’d never been found. Not only was it quiet and wooded, it was also close to where he used to live. He’d always liked the place, mostly because of Starr, a student at the university who’d been so sweet and kind to everyone, including him, until he tried asking her out.

“Whatever. Listen, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Lyman disconnected and stretched out his arms along the top of the bench, enjoying the fresh air until it was time to go meet Terry.

He arrived at MSU first, because he hadn’t been far away to begin with. But he was surprised when Terry drove up shortly after, even sooner than expected, and rolled down his window.

“Why are you wearing that?” he asked without so much as a hello, indicating the sweatshirt Lyman had put back on since leaving the park. “Aren’t you sweltering in this heat?”

Lyman waited for Terry to unlock the door and got in. “Being partially paralyzed makes me distinctive. I’d rather not draw attention to myself.”

Terry snorted. “You will, though, wearing a sweatshirt in June.”

“It’s dark in color. No one has said a word.”

“Fine. Go ahead and suffer,” he said. “So … you want me to go into the hollow? How do I get there?”

“Through the improvement arches,” he said as Terry pulled out of the university on Seventh.

“You’ve got my money, right?”

“Of course. But if you’re in that much of a hurry, just stop here.”

“On the street?”

“Why not? I’d like to take a look at the ravine. From what I remember, it’s very steep.”

Terry pulled to the side of the road, but he made no move to get out. “I don’t care about seeing the ravine. Just pay me. Then you’ll have to find your own way to the airport. I need to get back to Bridget.”