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Back Time for the Dead
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

What if the resurgence had been caused by her being back on the job? If that were the case, did that mean she could no longer deal with the stress associated with her profession?

She had been fine on the beach, but if she was required to process a body anywhere more confined, that might lead to the same attack as she’d experienced among the densely packed trees.

Which meant she couldn’t do her job properly.

She wasn’t even sure if she would welcome being back in the lab. Something she hadn’t divulged to Chrissy. Being confined in a PPI suit for long periods of time, with her mouth and nose covered? On a beach with a view of the sky that had been manageable, but . . .

Rhona rolled down the car window and let the air rush in. Raindrops splattered her face, but she didn’t care. She could stop the car any time she chose, she reasoned. The car wasn’t a prison even though it was enveloped in darkness.

Turning off the main road, the beams of the jeep eventually found the cottage. The surge of relief Rhona felt at seeing the reassuring steadfastness of that small white building with its blue-painted door seemed out of all proportion to its size against the expanse of grey sea and the stormy sky.

But it was there, and in and around it she knew she would feel safe.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she drew up outside and switched off the engine. The patter of rain on the roof of the jeep had ceased and now all she could discern was the rush of the sea as it met the nearby shore.

The door opened with its usual creak, wood against wood. Cold air met her nostrils, but no colder than she’d endured with the window open in the car. It seemed the temperature had risen after the rain.

She set about turning on the lamps and lighting the stove, putting on the kettle, then pouring herself a dram. The terrible sense of failure that had consumed her in the car was dissipating.

Food wasn’t so swiftly dealt with. Rhona chose the biggest potato she could find, forked it, then set it in the tiny microwave, before opening a can of beans. It was never going to be one of Sean’s slow-cooked meals, full of flavour, but it would satisfy a need.

Taking her whisky outside, she made for the beach and her favourite rock.

A few lights twinkled from the opposite shore, but the still heavily laden sky didn’t allow a glimpse of moon or stars.

Yet they were there.

It would take time for the bad memories to fade. Although, according to Bill Wilson, that time would have been shortened if she’d agreed to go to Castlebrae.

‘They know what they’re doing there,’ he’d told her. ‘Take my advice and go.’