BooksBarbecue
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

After an awkward goodbye to Emily, Casey sat at her desk long into the night, researching Alicia Dalgleish. Alicia’s face stared back at her, gazing confidently at the camera. Glowing skin, and dark blonde hair immaculately cut into a long, glossy bob with a sharp fringe. The bob was slightly longer at the front than the back, and looked like it was blow-dried everyday. Dark brown eyes glowed with a crisp intelligence. She was beautiful, Casey thought, without being pretty.

Alicia Dalgleish been in Parliament for seven years; one to watch before she was even elected at thirty-two. Two enchanting little girls and a good-looking husband. A doctor: brains and compassion, in a conveniently distinct field.

Two little girls, thought Casey. Two little girls.

She had ricocheted up the ranks in Parliament, making a below-average number of enemies. There were occasional rumours of ruthlessness all the same, but Casey was inclined to ignore those because those claims were made about most successful women. She wondered what the opposition had on Alicia. There was always something.

But she couldn’t be Zeus, Casey thought. No busy MP could travel around the world running this operation.

Just in case, she might ask Archie to ring Alicia first thing tomorrow. The political editor could easily ask the chair of the Foreign Affairs select committee for a chat about Bangladesh without triggering suspicions. And then they could analyse every word of the conversation.

Meanwhile, Casey trawled around Alicia’s known contacts, for anyone who might be the woman Bantham had seen in DC. There were no blonde women in Alicia’s entourage. Her chief of staff was a man, grey-haired, nervous-looking. Her parliamentary secretary was Edith, efficient, with a dyed black crop. None of her known donors or supporters fitted the description.

Frustrated, Casey clawed through company documents for Tartarus, Aceso, Portunus; searching for shareholders. But they were all buried offshore, impermeable layers of paper between Casey and her goal.

She checked her phone.

Ed: Don’t get too tired.

Ross: a long list of tasks.

And Miranda, baldly: Tom’s gone.

Casey read the message again and again. She tapped her phone.

Are you all right?

No. Not yet. A pause. I will be. A long pause. I had to choose.

I’m so sorry.

A cough next to her desk, and Casey glanced up. Cory was standing next to her desk, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. ‘Casey,’ the night editor smiled apologetically. ‘Dash told me to physically throw you out of the building if you hadn’t left by now.’

‘It’s all right.’ Casey stretched to her feet. ‘I’m off, Cory.’

64

64

Casey was back in the office as dawn was breaking, meandering sleepily between the empty desks, head full.

‘Morning, Casey!’ A bright chirp.

‘Morning, Tillie.’ Casey forced herself to focus, to joke. ‘Anything more from Mrs Warman?’