Page 33 of The Unraveling

It can’t be him. It can’t be.

I pull up the new patient’s chart, navigate to the personal information tab, and feel ice slide down my spine as I read the address that’s been entered.

It’s no coincidence.

Gabriel Wright, the man I only recently stopped following, has made an appointment. I shake my head—it can’t be. It just… can’t.

But then a knock comes at the door.

A deep voice calls out, “Hello? Anyone home?”

I don’t move. I’m paralyzed with fear. I don’t even breathe. Long seconds tick by before another knock comes. This time, it’s followed by the creak of my door opening…

A familiar face peeks through, splitting into a grin.

“Sorry, I didn’t see anyone out there. I hope I’m in the right place. I’m here to see Dr. McCall?”

It takes me a second to find my voice. “Y-yes, that’s me.”

“Excellent.” He pushes the door open the rest of the way and stares straight into my eyes. “I’m Gabriel Wright.”

CHAPTER 13 Then

I really think this is a bad idea, Meredith. By not putting on any defense, the committee is going to assume you’re guilty of negligence. And they’ll set the punishment accordingly.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard those words from my attorney’s mouth. I knew he meant well. Martin Hastings worked at my brother’s firm. He only wanted what he thought was best for me.

“But I was negligent, Martin. I should’ve been more aware of what was going on with my own husband.”

“Maybe. But the charges are that you overprescribed by signing twenty-two prescriptions for your husband. You didn’t sign anything. There’s a big difference between not safeguarding a prescription pad located in your private home or office and the committee thinking you signed all those scripts.”

I sigh. To the committee there might be a difference, but the end result was the same. People were dead because I buried my head in the sand, refused to see what was really going on with Connor.

“I need this over with, Martin.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “An admission of medical misconduct is grounds to permanently revoke your license. Will you at least let me speak to the committee off the record on your behalf? Explain what really happened? At a minimum, I’d like to try to negotiate the disciplinary action they take.”

“Can you do that today, while we’re here?” It had been six months since Connor’s accident. While I was sure most people dreaded walking into the Department of Health’s Office of Professional Misconduct, I’d been marking the days off on my calendar, waiting. I needed to move on. And I couldn’t do that until I took responsibility for my actions—or my inactions, in this case.

“Yes. Give me an hour. I’ll go in and see what I can do before we start the official hearing.”

I hated to wait even one minute more, but following Martin’s recommendation on this was the very least I could do. Lord knows I hadn’t listened to any of his other advice. I nodded. “Sure. Thank you.”

“Great.” He pointed to a bench across the hall from the hearing room. “Have a seat. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

But I couldn’t sit. After Martin disappeared behind the closed door, I paced. Walking back and forth, I rehashed for the hundredth time how I’d gotten here.

Mr. Mankin. My patient who had been preparing for a trip down to Florida to visit his mother and needed a paper prescription to take with him. Only when I’d opened my desk drawer at the office, my prescription pad was gone. On the very afternoon that Connor had been alone in my office.

What had I done about it?

I’d ignored it.

I went home and got one of the other two prescription pads I stored in my home office desk.

Problem solved.

But I should’ve known.

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