Out of Bounds by Val McDermid Read Free Book Online

costing his life. Karen gave herself a mental shake and focused on what the nurse was saying.
    ‘But I had the definite feeling he couldn’t wait to get out of here on Sunday night. It made him uncomfortable. I asked her if he was coming in yesterday, but she said he’d gone to his work. He needed something to keep himself occupied.’
    ‘What does he do? Did Mrs Garvie say?’
    ‘He’s something to do with the redevelopment down by the station. Where the V&A’s going to be.’
    ‘What about her? Does she work?’
    ‘She works from home, she said. She’s a freelance transcriber.’
    ‘What’s that?’ Jason had drifted across to join them.
    Impatient with the interruption, Karen explained. ‘When people dictate stuff, or when people need a hard copy of an interview or a meeting, they ping the digital recording over to somebody like Linda Garvie and she turns the audio into a document.’
    ‘Sheesh.Who knew that was a job?’
    ‘How did you think our interviews end up as court documents?’
    The blank look he gave her said it all. ‘I never thought about it,’ he said.
    Karen turned the full beam of her attention back to the nurse. ‘So you reckon she’ll be at home now?’
    ‘Well, she said she’d be in this afternoon, so you’ll probably catch her. But I don’t think she’ll be able to tell you anything about the accident.’
    Karen smiled. ‘We’re only looking for a bit of background. You’ve been very helpful.’ She took Jason’s elbow and steered him towards the door. ‘Time to let these good people get on with saving some lives, Jason.’ While we set about throwing a hand grenade into others.
    There was nothing remarkable about the Garvies’ house, nothing that made it stand out from its neighbours in the quiet residential street off the main Perth road. A traditional Scottish stone semi-detached villa with a dormer window thrusting out from the roof. There would be an attic bedroom behind it, the roof and walls intersecting at odd angles apparently designed with the sole intent of cracking the heads of the unwary. Karen wondered if that was the room where Ross Garvie had grown up. Lads from streets like these were supposed to confine their teenage rebellion to tiny acts of nonconformity – stealing a nip of vodka from the bottle in the cupboard, swearing in front of their granny, toking on a skinny joint in a friend’s bedroom. Not getting lashed to the gills and stealing cars. That was supposed to be confined to the underclass. The neighbours would be agog.
    Unless of course any of the dead boys were neighbours. Then the atmosphere would be different. Vengeful and poisonous, rich with recrimination and blame. For LindaGarvie’s sake, Karen hoped Ross’s victims lived on the other side of town. Whatever her stupid son had done, it wasn’t her fault. As for Stewart Garvie – if the DNA lab had got it right, he might have worse things to occupy his mind and his neighbours before too long. ‘Let’s do it, then,’ she said.
    They walked up a path of neatly laid stone slabs that bisected weed-free gravel, a perfect oval flower bed on each side, miniature daffodils and grape hyacinths adding a splash of colour to the grey. Karen rang the bell and took a step back so she’d appear less intimidating. A long silence. She was about to ring again when the door inched open. In the gap she could see a wedge of dark hair and one blue eye with a dark smudge beneath it. ‘I’ve got nothing to say,’ Linda Garvie said, her voice loud and harsh. ‘I told you people. I’ve got nothing to say.’
    ‘I’m from Police Scotland,’ Karen said quickly. ‘Not the press.’ She held up the ID she had at the ready.
    The eyebrow lowered over the eye as Linda peered at it. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were another journalist.’ The door opened wider to reveal the rest of her face, pinched with misery and lined with anxiety. She was a short, stout woman dressed in black trousers and a pink