”
“I need you to make copies. I need you to upload them somewhere they can’t reach. And I need you to call my son. His name is Daniel Matthews. He’s in Mount Hope. He’s a Marine. He’ll know what to do.”
I wrote Daniel’s number on the back of an old receipt.
“Gunner,” I said. “They know I have the phones. Frank Sullivan watched me fold your cut up. He continue reading …
