Chapters (70)
- Cover
- Praise for Two Wrongs
- Praise for Mel McGrath
- About the Author
- Also by Mel McGrath
- Note to Readers
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Author Note
- Acknowledgements
- Extract
- 1
- About the Publisher
A message sent to a stranger, though, evidently, not a stranger to Satnam. Nevis scrolls down, checking for a recurrence of the same number and does not find it. A single message, then, in a desperate hour.
Samaritans? Some other suicide prevention hotline?
She taps the number into Google. And waits. Nothing comes up. She checks the phone log for calls. No number, but something at least, a call from a withheld ID. Seven minutes and twenty-three seconds. It’s enough to say what needed to be said. Had enough. Can’t live with this.
But what? Her mouth is dry and scratchy. She needs to know and hardly dares to find out. The fingers hovering over the screen seem not to belong to her, but still they move, as if held up on puppet strings. She goes back to the message screen and touches the number. Three icons appear: Audio, FaceTime, Info.
Picking up her own phone, she takes a deep breath, and taps in the number.
Chapter 39
Cullen
Cullen waits in the loveseat in the VC’s office while Madeleine finishes up her phone call. A power move, he thinks, Maddy getting back at him after he’d been stupid enough in his cups to insult her the other night. Time to make old Cullen eat some humble pie.
He takes out his phone and pretends to read the screen but his head is pounding and he wishes that he’d gone to the Deanery first and retrieved one of his miniatures from the desk drawer to put in his coffee. It’s too late for that now. Sometimes his whole life feels like a missed boat. If only his worries would subside or his head didn’t hurt so much. If only he felt better about Veronica and Amanda. If only he didn’t feel that he was slowly going mad.
It was he who requested the meeting, eager to get the VC’s ear before Ratner got the chance to turn the bruises left by Cullen’s fist to his advantage. An accusation of assault would look very bad. He, Cullen, has already been issued with a warning, after all. A disciplinary measure at best. At worst, dismissal and another black mark on his CV. What would he say to Veronica? The stakes have risen exponentially since the announcement of her pregnancy. Not that he particularly wants the baby, but he does want Veronica and, more importantly, he wants the idea of Veronica.