Chapters (81)
- Cover
- Back Cover Text
- Praise
- Booklist
- Dedication
- About the Author
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter Forty-One
- Chapter Forty-Two
- Chapter Forty-Three
- Chapter Forty-Four
- Chapter Forty-Five
- Chapter Forty-Six
- Chapter Forty-Seven
- Chapter Forty-Eight
- Chapter Forty-Nine
- Chapter Fifty
- Chapter Fifty-One
- Chapter Fifty-Two
- Chapter Fifty-Three
- Chapter Fifty-Four
- Chapter Fifty-Five
- Chapter Fifty-Six
- Chapter Fifty-Seven
- Chapter Fifty-Eight
- Chapter Fifty-Nine
- Chapter Sixty
- Chapter Sixty-One
- Chapter Sixty-Two
- Chapter Sixty-Three
- Chapter Sixty-Four
- Chapter Sixty-Five
- Chapter Sixty-Six
- Chapter Sixty-Seven
- Chapter Sixty-Eight
- Chapter Sixty-Nine
- Chapter Seventy
- Chapter Seventy-One
- Chapter Seventy-Two
- Chapter Seventy-Three
- Chapter Seventy-Four
- Acknowledgments
To say Robin resented the book was too strong—he still felt a certain pride for writing it—but he didn’t ever want to look at it. It would always be a physical representation of pain, his pain, the pain of—
That familiar sound. The buzzing. His phone again. He looked at it to see the familiar UNKNOWN NUMBER. What was this—the third time? If it was his sister, she wouldn’t be ringing without cause—she knew he was working. And if it wasn’t Emma, then someone really wanted to get hold of him. He let the phone buzz a few more times, looked around to see that the store was still quiet and picked up.
“Hello,” he said, as soon as the phone got to his ear.
He expected Emma to answer him, but instead a harsh robotic female voice crackled into life. “You are receiving a prepaid telephone call from—” a young man’s voice cut in “—Matthew—” before returning to the robot “—a resident of Her Majesty’s Prison New Hall. If you are on a mobile device, there may still be charges associated with accepting this call. In accepting this call, you are accepting that this call will be monitored and may be recorded. If you accept these terms, please press 1.”
Robin’s mind scattered in many directions. Someone—some “Matthew”—calling him from a prison? He didn’t know anyone in prison—hadn’t ever known anyone who had gone to prison. Hell, he hadn’t even known anyone who had worked in one.
His first thought was that it was a mistake. But then he remembered this person had rung him three times, one after the other. And by the sound of the robot, he had paid for it. Whoever this Matthew was, he really wanted to talk to him. But then, maybe poor Matthew had just got the number wrong?
The robot lady started up again. “You are receiving a prepaid—” but Robin cut her off by pressing 1. And he waited.
Any pretense that this was a mistake was shattered when the same small voice on the other end said, “Is this Mr. Ferringham? Mr. Robin Ferringham?”
Robin looked around suddenly, in shock, as though he might catch the perpetrator of this weird call in his sight line. But no—the store was almost empty as before, and of course no one was watching him.