BY THE TIME DAVID’S lunch hour rolled around the snow was coming down in sheets and the radio had warned of more to come, possibly as much as 6 inches. He was quite frankly exhausted from trudging through it when he collapsed in his chair next to the heat radiator in Building #4 and sat his lunch pail on the floor.
Because that was the thing about snow in his line of work—he was a night watchman for Community Colleges of Spokane—you had to do your rounds. If you didn’t, the evidence, or lack thereof, was there for all to see. He stripped off his shoes and socks, thinking about Bonnie, and sat them on the radiator, wondering where the parakeet had disappeared to, and if, when she turned up, Sadie would be as docile in an empty house as she had been while he and Harry watched. He picked up
