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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

People thought that all perspiration had the same smell. It didn’t. She knew what each member of the group smelt like. In the midnight darkness of a desert hideout, she was able to distinguish each one of them by their footfall, by their breathing pattern as they slept and by the scent of their bodies.

She knew when they were at peace. When they were afraid, which was most of the time, and when they were aroused.

Like now.

Her ears attuned, she instinctively knew where the others were with respect to her own location. She knew exactly where he was. And that was close behind her.

Very close.

She could hear the faint rumble of the burn, swollen with melting snow, but not yet see it. In Afghanistan they’d had their night-vision goggles. Not here. Here they had to rely on their own eyes and their instincts.

She would stop, she decided. She would wait for him to come to her, as she knew he would. Her heart beat like a marching band and her sweat mingled with the tang of wet birch as she awaited his arrival.

As it was, she caught the stink of his body before she saw him.

Then a shaft of moonlight escaped from behind the sleet-laden clouds, to find his outline. Tall, broad, his body dense and tense. She knew what he would do when he reached her. Crow his success. Look for his reward. Take it.

She knew real fear then and longed to turn and run.

Spinning suddenly, she took off again, denying him his prize. He gave a shout of anger. Despite her quick getaway, he would be on her soon. Now she could smell what he wanted. Something she was unwilling to give.

2

The temperature had dropped again overnight. Rhona watched as her breath condensed above her, then pulling the cover over her head once more, rejoiced in the warmth below the duvet.

It was, she decided, the coldest winter she’d ever experienced on Skye.

Not that she had spent many winters here to judge.

Summer had been her time for visiting as a teenager, apart from a week last November just before the case that had called her to Sanday, one of Orkney’s most northerly islands.

Thinking about work stirred her properly awake. She had spent the time since the sin-eater case blanking her mind of all things related to that subject. And since work normally consumed her for most hours of the day, that had been a difficult thing to achieve.

An impossible thing to achieve.

So, she had compensated by studying past unsolved cases she hadn’t been involved in, together with new developments in the field of forensics. And she had spent time reading, working her way through every book she’d found in the cottage, before joining the travelling library and requesting more.