By the time that he'd finished work and driven home, Dave Heinrich was thoroughly exhausted. The murderous shift in the dishroom had taken everything out of him, completely worn him out. His whole body ached, especially his arms and legs; he felt woozy and slow, as if he might instantly fall asleep if he closed his eyes, no matter what his position or location. To top it all off, he was still wearing his soaked, filthy uniform; he'd been too tired at the end of his shift to change into his street clothes, had just wanted to get out of the steakhouse as quickly as possible.
It was an inauspicious way to end what had started as such a grand day. When he'd awakened that morning, he'd been peppy and cheerful, refreshed and optimistic...and when he pulled into the driveway of his family's
