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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

Sergeant MacDonald was ushering them through the building and up the stairs, introducing them to colleagues en route. McNab made no attempt to register the names or even the faces, intent on seeing only one.

She was standing at the window looking out over the rooftops, with the sea beyond. She turned on their entry, hesitated for only a moment before coming forward. McNab hung back, letting Janice greet her first with an affectionate hug.

She looked better, he thought, better than the last time he’d seen her in the flesh, but still fragile. A word he never thought he’d use to describe Rhona MacLeod. When he’d carried her here, her hands round his waist as they rode together, he had thought her too thin, the delicate bones in her face too prominent. The hug she’d given him just before he’d ridden off leaving her here had betrayed how thin she was beneath the clothes.

She looks less thin now, he thought as she moved from Janice to him.

‘McNab,’ she said. ‘Back on Skye. I never thought I’d see the day.’ She neither hugged him, like she had Janice, nor shook his hand.

A look was all they exchanged, but it was a look McNab knew well.

Someone brought in coffee at that point, something McNab had craved as much as seeing Rhona again.

‘If you’d like to take a seat,’ Sergeant MacDonald said, ‘we’ll invite the rest of the team in and bring everyone up to date.’

54

Afghanistan

The girl believes she is going to die. I can see that in her eyes and the way she holds my hand. If they hadn’t brought me here she most likely would have. The baby too.

I suspect some of the women understand what is wrong but are too frightened to do what has to be done. If I do it and it doesn’t work, then her death will be appeased by my own.

I can, I decide, leave the girl to suffer the agonies of trying to bear a child that will not, cannot emerge. Or I can help her.

I have been expecting death from the moment I was thrust into my cell. At times I would have welcomed it, which is why I don’t fear the presence of the black scorpion in the walls of my prison. He is my insurance for when I no longer want to survive.

But here is an opportunity to be a medic, a nurse again.

I begin making slicing movements against the girl’s stomach, indicating that I want the child to emerge that way. And for that I need a knife. A sharp knife. I murmur phrases I know, praising Allah and anything I can remember about children and love.

My attempts at explaining bring a babble of excited chatter. Only one woman, her face lined with age, stays silent, observing me.