The Dogman Chronicles: Prologue, Part Three

I’m awake at six. I don’t want to be but years of habit do not end because you are severely sleep deprived. Morning calisthenics out of the way, I trot down to the hotel gym and get some sweating in.

Breakfast is ordered and waiting for me when I get back to the room. Morning necessities are completed, bags packed and a sizable tip left for the young lady who made sure I had extra marmalade which puts me on the pavement by nine. A quick side trip to dispose of the rental and a quick taxi ride to pick up my own ride put me only slightly behind. I walk across the threshold of Hund Investigations Incorporated at 10:04.

I take the private elevator up. Three hours sleep is not enough to make me suitable company for any human that wants more than a hello. I’ll need a lot more coffee for that. I’m not surprised to find my coffee waiting for me on my desk alongside the paper copy of the report I submitted last night. Computers will never replace a really good secretary.

I scan the report for the corrections and initial each as I okay them. Sonia was born in Russia and grew up in Israel, She didn’t learn English until she immigrated here in her thirties yet she’s better than my tablet’s spell check. I sign off on the report and toss it in the outbox.

Nothing in email or the inbox needs immediate response. I finish my coffee, wander over to the couch and catch up on the rest of my sleep. It’s good to be the boss sometimes.

I wake up vaguely pondering for the millionth time why exactly Sonia is so danged convinced that I need to still do field work? I used to think she just didn’t understand the changes as the business grew but she can direct managers better than I can so that’s out. Then I thought she just wanted me to keep my hand in as a way to stay sharp but she doesn’t care what I work as long as it’s a case and I leave the office at least once. Dog finding cases satisfy her so that can’t be ir, either. I began to suspect she wanted me out of the office and out of her hair, but there is no pattern to it other than me bringing in direct revenue at least weekly and she can take any day off she likes and knows it. So that makes no sense/

Lately, in the back of my mind, it’s begun to worry me. There’s one other possibility – the one that scares me, There;’s only one thing in my life she isn’t supposed to know. Is that it? Has she found out somehow and wants to either keep me sharp or keep me too busy to engage in my extracurricular activity? I don’t see how. That seems too fantastic/

Yet its the first thing on my mind as I wake up. I’m used to trusting my instincts but I don’t want to this time. That’s not a part of my life to be shared. It’s the part that keeps me going, keeps me sane, but it’s no where I want other people to be, especially not the ones that mean anything to me. That dark place in my soul has no room for – let’s just say, no one else should ever go there. These journals I keep are enough. No one needs to know the monster I really am.