Fatal Justice by Sally Rigby

Author:Sally Rigby [Rigby, Sally]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Calibre
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

George stared at the second hand on her kitchen clock. Why on earth had she agreed to go out for a drink with Whitney this evening? She was going to be the worst company ever. She’d rather sit at home on her own and wallow in self-pity. Not that she usually engaged in it, but after the way she’d been treated by the university, she deserved it.

She was tempted to take the matter further but knew better than to make a decision without being calm and in control. She was only thirty-four, so becoming an associate professor was a long shot, but she’d proved herself. She’d raised the department’s profile to a high level, both inside and outside the university.

Her colleagues had always known she’d been working with the police, and now they were saying she was devoting too much time to them, to the detriment of her work. It was the biggest load of crap she’d heard, and she was really pissed off about it.

It was already six-thirty, and too late to cancel Whitney. Plus, it wasn’t her fault, and if she needed help on the case, then George would oblige. In the meantime, she’d have a cigarette in the back garden. She pulled one out from the pack in her bag and was about to go out into the garden when there was a knock at the door. Damn, Whitney was early. She put the cigarette back and went to answer.

Whitney stared at her. Her usual upbeat demeanour was gone, and her mouth was downturned and her eyes glassy.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘How do you know something’s wrong?’ Whitney frowned.

‘It’s written all over your face.’

‘I’ve got trouble at home, and Jamieson’s breathing down my neck, as well. To be honest, I was going to cancel drinks this evening. I’m not going to be good company.’

‘Same here,’ George said.

Whitney gave a hollow laugh. ‘Look at the two of us.’

‘Let’s not go out tonight,’ George suggested. ‘I’ve got a bottle of wine in the fridge. We can have some crisps and dip and then talk.’

Had she suggested that? Since when did she ask anyone in for a drink and a chat? Never. Because she never knew what to talk about. In the past, the thought of making the offer wouldn’t have entered her head.

‘Good idea. Although I can’t drink too much, as I’m driving.’

‘If the worst comes to worst, you can always stay here. I’ve got a spare room,’ George offered, again wondering if some alien had taken over her head space, because she’d never offered anyone to stay the night.

Whitney followed her into the kitchen. George opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of her favourite New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. She opened it, filled the glasses, and handed one to Whitney, who was sitting at the table. They clinked their glasses and both took a sip.

‘So, who’s going first?’ Whitney asked.

‘You can,’ George said, not knowing whether she was ready to offload just yet.

‘Where to begin,’ Whitney said as she sighed.

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