American Tapestry Winter JenningsChapter 12
My cell rang. FaceTime request. Birdy Cummings. Odd, she was supposed to call me on one of my burner phones. A specific one. Before I answered, I connected the phone to my MacBook. Hurriedly, and I was glad I’d practiced the drill, I completed the 11 steps necessary to be able to record the call on my laptop. “Hello.” “Winter! I’m so sorry! Run!” Birdy with a shotgun jammed to her chin. Silence for a moment, then Birdy screamed, an anguished, almost inhuman shriek. Something was being done...