Mr. Sandman by Lyle Howard

Author:Lyle Howard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-01-10T16:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, 3:25 p.m.

Lance huddled listlessly over the water fountain on the fourth floor of the County Fire and Rescue Department in the Broward County City Hall Building. He was tired from a long day of sifting through rubble, and disappointed by the lack­luster evening he had spent with Julie Chapman the night before.

After building up his hopes to absurdly unattainable heights, their dinner together never managed to rekindle any sparks that he might have had smoldering for her. Everything had started out like it would be terrific between the two of them, but as the evening wore on, the same old problem began to rear its ugly head. There was a voice in his subconscious that wouldn't allow him to get close to her, to share the story of his past with her. It was a warning whisper, for the lack of a better definition, cautioning him that she wasn't what he was searching for in the way of a commitment in his life.

After putting in another grueling sixty-hour week, he couldn't fathom that investigating fires was how he would spend the remainder of his existence. He felt like a gerbil on a treadmill, running fast, but not getting anywhere. He was depressed because he lacked some type of goal in his life. The shine on this lifestyle was quickly wearing off.

He had been out all morning, rounding up evidence against a twice-convicted arsonist by rummaging through the burned-out husk of a crack house in one of the seedier sections of town. Even that hazardous assignment didn't prepare him for what lay behind his office door. Although it was still early in the day, he was dead on his feet and the thought of spending the rest of the day crowded behind his desk made him want to run away to some secluded island in the Bahamas. He would rather walk through a three-alarm blaze dressed only in his underwear, than face the dreaded monolith he called... his desk!

Lance was never one to lose his perspective by exagger­ating to extremes but in this case, he was positive that it would take a minimum of ten men with miner's helmets and shovels to help him dig through all of the toppling stacks of files cluttering his desk. If the new county budget wasn't passed soon, he just knew that one day his secretary would come into work, open his office door, and drown under a flood of manila file folders. More than once he had consid­ered putting an "enter at your own risk" sign on his office door. It was a wonder he got any work done at all, considering that it usually took him half an hour to find anything.

Stepping through the glass doorway that led to the outer office, he was greeted by a much-too-perky-for-this-time-of-day, Stephanie Rose. Under any other circumstances Stephanie's well-contoured figure and sea-blue eyes would have perked up anyone's afternoon. "Weil," she said, looking at the worn expression on his face, "the soldier returns from the front.

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