ARIZONA REPUBLIC
Monday morning I rise early, shower and dress for the office. The drive in is slow as the whole world seems to begin moving in Phoenix on Monday mornings. Weekends are sleepy times but come Monday all activity resumes.
My desk is already loaded with messages taken over the weekend and early this morning. Just as I am reviewing them and making plans to return some of the calls, Specs Bonheim, my editor boss, appears in front of my desk and says, “I want to see you, McLain, right away in my office.” What now.
I disentangle myself from the desk as I shuffle the papers looking busy.
Entering Specs’s office I hear, “We got another one.”
“Another what?”
“This time the r****t went too far.”
“This girl is not a street walker/p********e, just thirteen or fourteen years old.
