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Back Time for the Dead Save as PDF
Chapters (94)
  1. Cover
  2. Time for the Dead
  3. Dedication page
  4. Map
  5. Epigraph page
  6. Prologue
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. Epilogue
  92. Acknowledgements
  93. About the Author
  94. By Lin Anderson

But, if he was truthful, the real reason he didn’t want to admit that Harry had gone missing from the hospital was because it was his fault entirely. Although McNab feared she wouldn’t let him take full responsibility for that, since she’d been as keen this morning as he had. Ellie, he knew, would likely take some of the blame on herself. And that blame would be linked in her mind with the sex. Added to that, if Harry wasn’t staying in her flat, then she would undoubtedly move back there.

McNab’s final thought before he phoned Ollie rested on Rhona. Word had come to him about what had happened in the forest. The PTSD psychosis Rhona had likely been experiencing, McNab knew only too well. He’d punched a few walls in his time and there were marks in the flat to prove it.

But somehow he’d never imagined Rhona doing the same. Alvis had been unapologetic about telling him.

‘Does Chrissy know?’ McNab had immediately asked.

‘I thought it better not to tell her. With Chrissy, Rhona performs at her most natural. I think this is because she knows that Chrissy believes in her, and does not doubt that engaging with work is her route back to well-being.’ Alvis had paused there, before finally offering, ‘I head home soon, so . . .’

‘I’ll keep on Skyping her,’ McNab had assured the Norwegian detective. ‘Whether she likes it or not.’

46

The sky had grown increasingly heavy, signalling what the old man in Skeabost had told her. Snow was on its way again. When he’d said this, she’d had to stop herself from smiling. Snow, she would welcome. She would survive a snowstorm just as she had the sandstorms.

She would huddle in her emergency shelter like she had inside the blue prison. But out here there would be no guards to visit her, no one thrust into her cell, head encased in a sack. No black scorpion waiting in a stone wall.

The story he’d concocted about that night in the birch woods had been almost believable, even to her. And the guys had swallowed it without question. Or maybe that’s just what they wanted to believe, because it removed the guilt from them and anchored it onto her.

She’d been suppressing the memory, but it surged up on her now with a vengeance. The darkness, the smell, her decision not to wait, as Sugarboy had instructed, but to turn and run from him. That had been a mistake, a terrible mistake. She sank to the boggy ground, curling up, making herself as small as possible, her eyes closed.

And she was running again in the dark, ducking through the trees and into the clearing. She’d barely stopped to catch her breath and he was on her. In her panic, she’d lost Sugarboy, and the plan so carefully nurtured had become something else entirely.