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Back The Dead Line
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

And he was gone, in a tidal wave of PAs and PRs, and Ed looked at Casey. ‘You’re shameless,’ he said.

29

29

That night Casey lay in the dark of her new flat in London. Lost in the wilds of the Sahara, the sun burning down like a curse. Out where the desert shimmered, as if none of it were real. But it was, it was, it was.

She had pleaded with Ed to go out there with her and to pretend. To find the men who killed refugees, just to find out how it felt.

He had kissed her, out there, but it was just a part in a play. An actor saying his lines.

You can’t be a spectator, he had pleaded, the night before. That child is out there right now, with a whole life ahead.

But she had forced him, out along the path, up into the hills. Because without proof, there was nothing. Or there was no story, anyway, almost the same thing.

She had turned to him, in that beautiful room, in that magical palace lost out in the sands.

I am going, Ed. Even if I have to go up there on my own.

Knowing he would never let her go alone.

And so he had walked beside her, step by step, and watched, eyes blank, as the tiny figure crumpled.

You got her. Clean kill.

The trader’s arms raised in triumph.

Casey had stepped across to Ed, hugged him close. And he had gazed at her, lost, as if he had never really known her at all.

They had had to run across the desert, hunted, like rabbits. The rifle shots, one after the next, closer and closer. Ed had been hit, blood spattering, the car crashing down the bluff.

The nightmares followed them home, of course. Just a few paces behind, like old acquaintances. There, in the corner of the eye. Slinking closer as the nights drew in.

Her new nightmares, and the old. Back again, worse than before. Fragments of glass slicing up through the dreams.

I did this to you.

30

30

Miranda was tense the next morning. ‘Have you heard from Ed? Maybe we should try Calvin. He’s a professional, at least . . .’

Casey’s telephone jingled. She read the message and was on her feet.

‘I’ll be back in a bit.’

‘Everything OK?’

‘Yes.’

Meet me at the top of the hill. She read it again and again.

The London sky was grey as she climbed Primrose Hill. A seagull shrieked overhead, twisting higher and higher into the sky.

He was waiting in a cold swirl of wind.

‘Hello.’ Casey sat down on a park bench, rubbed smooth, and covered in years of graffiti. Liv loves Charlie.

Ed stayed on his feet. A jogger panted up the hill. Teenagers – smoking with a careful precision – ambled past. Casey waited.

‘I come up here when I’m not sure what to do,’ he said.