Sitting quietly once you've made the house all shiny.

Down time can be just fine, playing bangers from the 90s.

Tea break.

Lunch break.

Maybe listen to the outbreak.

Sometimes it's not time for some tombola, right?

It's enjoying lasagna time, chilling with a book time, or time to visit your nan time go on play some other time put your phone down

tombole open for fun terms apply 18 plus gambleaware dot org this episode contains graphic descriptions that may not be

suitable for all listeners on the morning of of October 2nd, 2012, Steve Williams was driving through the desert on his way to work.

He was on Highway 14, a barren stretch of road, just north of Rosamond, California.

My shift hadn't quite started yet, or it was just about to start.

And it was a crisp, cool morning.

Steve Williams was a police sergeant in Kern County, about 100 miles north of L.A.

A third of Kern is covered by the Mojave Desert, an expanse of sun-bleached land, spindly Joshua trees,

and scrubby brush. It was early in the morning, around 7 a.m. I think there was just a little bit of

light cloud cover, and I remember that the sun, I don't think it had quite hit the horizon yet,

and so it was light light but not bright.

In the half light of dawn, something caught the sergeant's eye.

A figure standing by the side of the road.

It was a woman, mid-40s, blonde hair, yoga pants,

but something wasn't right. It was miles to the nearest town, and as he drove closer, Sergeant Williams noticed that she was barefoot and had a blindfold

pushed up on her forehead. I initially thought she was holding something behind her back because I could see

...