I turned the key and sat while the engine warmed up, the heater blowing tepid air across my boots.

At one o’clock I pulled up to the curb in front of the Main Street Cafe in downtown Menomonie.

The front window was steamed up around the edges, and the smell of fried onions and hot coffee hit me the moment I walked in.

Gordon Lund was sitting by himself in a corner booth next to the radiator, a laminated lunch menu lying beside his plate.

I went over and slid onto the vinyl seat across from him.