Mistaken Identity Turns Site Visit Into Murder Ride
I grabbed the railing and screamed down at Anisa Howell, "Anisa, are you out of your mind?"
From nearly 100 feet above the ground, I saw her sitting under a sun umbrella with her legs crossed, casually sipping a black iced coffee.
Anthony's breathing grew rough and labored. I had only heard that sound once before, in the ICU. It was on the third day after his heart bypass surgery, the night he had nearly died.
I pulled out my phone and called Conner Randall. He picked up after three rings.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Conner, get someone to stop the basket right now! Dad is having a heart attack!"