Chapter 8Dusty pushed back from his desk, gathered the finished reports, and shoved them into a big brown envelope. There, that’s done for another two weeks. He glanced at his watch after rubbing gritty eyes—almost eleven. Damn, the hated bookwork took him long enough. He jumped when the phone rang, snatched it, half-afraid it would be Mari, in trouble. “Layne here.”
“Oh, Daddy, you’ve got to help me! You wouldn’t believe how awful they are to me!”
“Pam?” She was the last person he’d expected.
“You…oh, I can’t talk. I’m not supposed to be using the phone. If they catch me, I don’t know what they’ll do. But I just had to do something. Please, come up here and make them quit tormenting me. I just can’t take it anymore.” Her voice trailed off in a pitiful wail.
“Calm down, baby, and tell
