Buried Betrayal on Eight Hundred Acres 34

times.

My mother had called seventeen.

Camille had called eleven and texted five times, each message worse than the last.

At first she threatened me.

Then she insulted me.

Then she demanded I answer.

Then, suddenly, she stopped.

That was the message that made me sit up.

The silence.

A minute later, the fifty-fifth call came in.

It was not my father.

It was Martin’s continue reading …