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Back The Dead Line Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. By the Same Author
  3. Dedication Page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. Acknowledgements
  86. Also Available by Holly Watt
  87. The Hunt and the Kill

‘I don’t know . . .’ Casey flicked the water with annoyance. ‘But we have to get closer . . .’

‘Not now, Casey.’

They bobbed along with the tide, Casey scrambling through her thoughts.

‘Do you know the name of that shipyard . . .’ she tried, but the boy was blank. Finally, she brought out the name of the garment factory. ‘Arakny?’

The boy glanced at her, eyes dark. Then he shook his head slowly. No.

He looked away, avoiding her eyes. Casey leaned back on his fishing nets. It was hot on the boat, with almost no breeze coming across the water. A surge of frustration. She flicked the dinghy’s painter back and forward across the water and tried to make sense of it all.

They were almost back at the pier when Casey’s phone jangled.

‘Hello, Raz,’ she answered it, her mind elsewhere.

‘I’ve got good news for you, Miss Emily.’ Raz paused, building the moment. ‘It looks like your baby will be born tomorrow. The girl is in labour, right now.’

A baby.

A baby.

A baby, almost forgotten . . .

‘Oh, Raz,’ Casey managed to whisper. ‘It feels like a miracle.’

‘It is a funny sort of miracle,’ agreed Raz. ‘And it will be soon.’

A mist was rolling in, blotting out the oily rainbow of the sea. As Raz carried on speaking, Casey sat staring over the waves. ‘Thank you, Raz,’ she murmured when a silence fell.

‘I am very glad for you and Mr Dominic,’ Raz said politely.

As he spoke, the thought of another girl, so much nearer, crowded Casey’s mind. A woman screaming, in a darkened room, as the sun disappeared from the day.

Right now. This minute. Would she be alone? Or would the other women be with her, helping her, the best they knew how? Would Romida be there too, dark eyes wide, a new fear growing?

Where are you, my girl?

‘Shall we meet you in Chittagong?’ Casey made her voice crisp. ‘Where should we come?’

As he gave her the instructions, Casey reached for Ed’s hand, and he squeezed it.

43

43

Although it had no windows, the room was far too bright. The hotel called this a banqueting room, but no one had feasted here for years. Strip lighting was tacked to a ceiling too low for elegance. Trestle tables were scattered here and there, with cream polyester tablecloths. Each table had a grimy blue runner down the middle, and a dusty bowl of red plastic flowers at the centre. A burble of noise came through double doors from the lobby. Chittagong’s Jalico Hotel was spelled out in blue neon behind the receptionist’s desk.

Ed and Casey sat on gold chairs, padded in faded scarlet. They were alone.

‘He said ten o’clock.’ Casey was fidgeting.

A digital clock flickered, red numbers on the wall. 10.47.

How can we go home if . . .

‘Just wait.’ Ed put his hand over hers. She stared blankly at his fingers.