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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

Catching the approaching blare of a siren and the accompanying flashing blue light, he prayed it was heading their way. In response, his cramped hand sought to release the pressure a little, despite his best efforts, until Ellie laid her hand firmly on top of his own.

21

Afghanistan

I catch the sharp metallic scent of blood. How badly have they hurt him?

He has kept his distance all through the night, despite the urgings and beatings of the guards.

As the first tentacle of light finds the opening high in the wall that serves as our window on the outside world, I sense him gather himself, making sounds as though he is just emerging from sleep. He pulls himself upright against the opposite wall, just as the first flurry of sand enters, swallowing the sunlight.

It’s not the first time I’ve experienced a sandstorm, but it’s the first in my blue prison.

I hear him splutter and cough as the sand birls about us. Watch as he tucks his head between his drawn-up knees for protection.

The sand is coarse, and will pistol-whip his nakedness as well as force entry to every crevice and opening in his body.

I call out to him, urging him to come to me.

My pleading is swept away by the swirling sand, now dense as soup, but he must have heard, because he’s crawling across the stony ground towards me.

I pull him close and, lifting the tent of the blue prison, welcome him under its protection.

22

She’d been woken at dawn by Jamie’s urgent knock at the bedroom door.

‘Lee’s been on the phone. They need you out at Kilt Rock.’

Rhona’s heart skipped a beat. ‘They’ve found Jake?’

‘They’ve spotted something at the base of the cliff,’ Jamie told her. ‘The MRT’s there already.’

‘I’ll be right down.’ Rhona flicked on the light and, rising, quickly pulled on her jeans and jumper.

Downstairs, Jamie handed her a thermos of coffee and a bacon roll. ‘Not sure when we’ll next be fed,’ he said.

‘I’ll eat it on the way,’ Rhona told him, grabbing her jacket from the hall. ‘And I’ll need to pick up my forensic bag from the jeep en route. And Alvis from the Isles.’

‘He knows we’re on our way.’

Jamie was driving the MRT vehicle with caution, his fog lights barely puncturing the thick, swirling mist. Skye, this morning, was living up to its Gaelic nickname of Eilean a’ Cheò, the Misty Isle.

As far as Rhona could make out, having left Portree they were now heading north, although in truth they could have been anywhere on the island or even driving towards a cliff edge for all that she could see.

Sitting in the back, she’d listened as Jamie had given Alvis an update on the situation.