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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

Casey angled the camera so that the tiny baby filled the screen. Poppy lay there, eyes closed, quite angelic, swaddled in a soft white wrap.

‘My baby.’ They were the only two words Emily could manage. ‘My baby, my baby, my baby.’

Casey could hear Dominic’s deeper tones somewhere in the background. She kept the camera pointed at tiny Poppy, listening as the tears flooded Emily’s voice.

The baby’s tiny arm jerked, almost a wave. She was lying on her side, a small comma. She looked alarmingly vulnerable lying there.

‘She’s a gorgeous baby,’ Casey said after a few minutes.

‘When . . .’ Emily struggled to speak. ‘When will you be back?’

‘As soon as possible,’ said Casey. ‘I’ll have someone check flights.’

‘Don’t make promises,’ Miranda had ordered. ‘We may be delayed.’

‘Please,’ said Emily. ‘Please, please hurry.’

‘We will,’ said Casey. ‘But it will take time, getting flights back from Chittagong.’

‘I know, I know,’ said Emily. ‘Is she eating a lot? Is she healthy?’

‘She seems very well,’ said Casey, thinking how oddly fitting it was that Emily should meet this baby – created by syringes and Petri dishes, pills and vials – through the toughened glass of a mobile phone. ‘She’s lovely, Emily. Beautiful.’

‘I never thought,’ Emily’s voice echoed down the line, ‘that this moment would come.’

45

45

Night had fallen when Ed, Casey and Hessa walked down the pier. Hessa had taken a tuk-tuk down to Sandwip earlier in the evening, and bought the small fishing boat from the boy outright.

‘He couldn’t believe it,’ she had reported. ‘He was delighted.’

While Hessa was out negotiating for the boat, the rest of them had moved a few streets away from the Jalico Hotel, to rooms in another dusty business hotel.

‘Best to be out of the way,’ said Casey, peering around the Grand Prince Motel. ‘Just in case they come looking.’

They had left just enough luggage in the Jalico to avoid raising suspicion among the staff.

‘Take care.’ Miranda had waved them off.

Now, the little boat bobbed on the tide as they approached, straining at its painter.

‘Let’s go.’

The fishing boat headed south, shapes looming out of the dark. They floated past the silhouettes of beached trawlers, cargo ships, even the odd oil rig. Ed was steering, trying to avoid the jetsam that clogged the water. A piece of plastic sheeting caught across the boat’s bows, and Casey dragged it crossly out of the way. Lights flickered here and there, on the shore, but the mudflats were silent. It was a still night, the water barely rippling.

Finally, there she was: the huge shape of the Tephi, slumped in the mud. Ed slowed the outboard motor to a purr. He steered the little fishing boat in between the Tephi, with her brave red stripe, and the remains of the Beauvallet.

As the boat bottomed out on the beach, Casey was out, splashing through the water.