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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

Loch Duich followed as the west coast opened up before him. Looping through the lovely village of Dornie, he spotted the much-photographed Eilean Donan Castle. Arriving where the bridge should be, he found it mysteriously hidden in a thick mist, causing Alvis to mouth his surprise to Marita as he ventured across the hidden arch to re-emerge on dry land again.

The journey had taken just over the statutory three hours from Inverness, and during that time he had thought carefully how he might approach any meeting he would have with Dr MacLeod. They had previously worked well together on the joint investigation between his office and Police Scotland, but that too hadn’t been without trauma.

Alvis flinched at the memories it had left behind, some of whose scars still ran deep in his heart. It had begun with his discovery of the bodies of two small refugee children, frozen in the ice on Norway’s northern border with Russia. Things had only got worse after that and Dr MacLeod had been his mainstay in all of it.

Now it was his turn to be hers.

5

The dog was observing Rhona with large, intelligent eyes. A big black-and-white Border collie, it looked very much the proprietor of the place, just as Jamie had suggested.

‘You must be Blaze?’ Rhona said.

Approaching, the dog sniffed at her proffered hand.

The collie’s deep bark had greeted the jeep’s arrival and had also alerted the human inhabitants of the centre, one of whom now introduced himself as Donald McKay.

Rhona ruffled the collie’s ears. ‘Are you his owner?’

‘I suspect he believes he’s mine,’ Donald said with a bemused grin.

Next up was Matt, who, spotting Jamie, gave a whoop of success. ‘I thought you’d bailed on bringing the stag do here?’

‘No way,’ Jamie said. ‘Although it took a bit of negotiation on my part.’ He rattled off three guys’ names. ‘Who,’ he said, ‘spent a lot of time in the pub last night discussing how exactly they planned to kill one another.’

‘Nothing gets killed here, except the male ego,’ Matt said, smiling at Rhona.

Jamie obligingly introduced her. ‘Rhona is a Skye MacLeod, although currently residing in MacDonald country.’

‘Ah,’ Matt said, with a knowing look. ‘You’re based in Sleat?’

Rhona smiled a yes, knowing full well the turbulent history between the MacDonalds and the MacLeods of Skye. ‘My parents’ cottage is there, where I spent most of my summers. That’s when I got to know Jamie.’

‘I heard our Jamie was a bit of a lad during his teenage years?’ Matt raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘He most definitely was,’ Rhona agreed.

‘With a little help from you, Dr MacLeod,’ Jamie added, before throwing Rhona an apologetic look, realizing he’d let the cat out of the bag.

‘Dr MacLeod,’ Matt said with a look of surprise. ‘So, you’ve moved back home to look after our health?’