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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

In the quirky nature of things, here on the shore behind the cottage was where she got the best signal. She’d spoken with Chrissy, with Bill and with McNab since she’d come here. What she hadn’t done was speak to Sean.

Rhona brought up his number. There was something she hadn’t told Sean. Something he of all people ought to know.

Whether she felt free of her prison and could say the words, Rhona didn’t know.

7

Afghanistan, six months earlier

They call the robes the women are forced to wear the Blue Prison, with its little barred window to look out on the world. I am wearing one now. Beneath it, I am naked. Sweat runs in rivulets down my body, the biggest and most free-flowing between my breasts. My hair is clamped to my head, the sweat there mixed with sand and blood under the blue hood.

The view I have of the world is through a cobweb. Almost blind, I have grown to rely on my other senses. Smell has been the strongest. I know each of my guards by their scent.

I don’t think of smell in the same way any more. I think of it in a hundred ways. I know when they’re fearful, angry, depressed, sexually aroused. The last one is the scent I fear most.

Night has fallen with a depth of darkness that is difficult to describe. Strangely now, in the coldness of the night, I wish for the sweat to flow free again, trickling moisture on my lips. But the sweat has solidified in the cold, sticking to my body like a second layer.

The door suddenly clangs open and, through shouts, they propel him into the room.

I can smell his blood and realize they must have reopened old wounds, or made new ones. A light outside frames the faces now pressed against the barred opening on the door.

His head is covered with a sack, but I know who it is, because I recognize his smell. The fear, the blood and the lust.

This one will do in the dark what is ordered. Not to save his life or mine, but because he wants to.

8

It was dark when Alvis drew up outside the police station. He had planned, as he’d told Rhona, to meet with Sergeant MacDonald in the morning, until Rhona had bizarrely revealed her decision to forensically search a possible crime scene in the woods behind a place called A.C.E Target Sports.

He’d been as taken aback as McNab by that, and probably for similar reasons. He’d hoped to spend longer with Rhona after the Skype call had ended, maybe learn a bit more about this strange turn of affairs, but she’d made it pretty clear that she wanted him gone and she’d avoided arranging to meet him again during his week’s visit.