The back office door was propped open three inches to let the heat out from the shop air compressor.

I pushed it open and stepped into the narrow back hallway where the payroll files were kept.

Dale Heckert was standing at the metal desk, writing on a yellow work order pad.

His pen stopped when my shadow fell across the floor.

“You’re not on the schedule today, Becky,” Dale said, his gravelly voice sinking to a low rasp.

“I came for my written earnings statement,” I said.

“You’re required to give me an itemized pay stub for my last week.”