Fragile Facade (Blind Barriers Trilogy Book 1) by Davis Sophie

Fragile Facade (Blind Barriers Trilogy Book 1) by Davis Sophie

Author:Davis, Sophie [Davis, Sophie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Dabber & Baehr
Published: 2014-04-01T16:00:00+00:00


The D.C. Public Library System has branches spread throughout the city. As luck would have it, the Howard branch was located just a mile from Lark’s place. I debated returning to the apartment to get my car, but decided walking was faster.

The building was not at all what I’d come to associate with public libraries. No, this place was modern, with a glass front and an art deco sculpture made from metal and neon green and red lights sitting out front. Approximately the width of two row homes and ten stories high, it was tall and narrow, and extremely out of place among the 7–ll on the opposite corner and Chinese/fried chicken and subs takeout across the street.

A bored-looking woman in her mid-thirties sat behind a circular reception desk. A flat screen monitor was on her left, and a copy of InStyle was open in front of her. She didn’t bother to glance up as I approached.

“Excuse me, um–” I looked for a name placard, but found only one that read, “Reception.”

The librarian flipped to a page depicting Anne Hathaway’s Ten Best Looks. “Can I help you?” she asked. A piece of long, dark hair fell forward from behind her ear, and she blew it back from her face with painted red lips.

“I’m looking for your microfiche machines,” I told her.

This seemed to warrant her full attention because large grey eyes appraised me with newfound interest. Apparently she didn’t get a lot of requests for the dinosaur electronics.

“Third floor. Elevators are right there,” she pointed to the metal doors not ten feet from where I was standing, “stairs are down the hall and to the left.” This time she indicated a short hallway behind her. “The Reference librarian will help you get set up.”

I thanked the woman, who’d resumed thumbing through the fashion magazine before the words could leave my mouth. Between walking the mile from my place to Lark’s and the walk here, I decided I’d had enough exercise for the day, and used the elevator. The reference librarian proved much more helpful than her counterpart downstairs. Since the library actually kept back copies of both The New York Times and The Washington Post from the previous year, I was in luck. After handing over my ID, the reference librarian, Jessica, handed me a copy of each publication from September 23rd of last year.

I wound through stacks of periodicals and old medical and legal journals until I found a row of five carrels against the far back wall. It was probably because it was a weekday and I was on the reference floor, but I appeared to be the only patron. That mean I had my pick of which graffiti-laden desk to sit at. The one in the left corner was as good as any, so I pulled out the hard plastic chair, slid in, and deposited my messenger bag and the newspapers on the desktop.

The chair was cold and uncomfortable with a rounded seat surrounded by a lip that bit into the backs of my thighs.



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