The Skeleton Road by Val McDermid Read Free Book Online Page B

we get something off the key-card.’ Karen refilled their glasses and yawned. ‘Still, it makes a change from the usual cold-case scenario. No ploughing through somebody else’s crappy notes and getting depressed at the poverty of their skills.’
    ‘You never know, you might end up getting a foreign trip out of it if your victim turns out to have a past somewhere else.’
    Karen gave a dark chuckle. ‘Aye, right. Knowing my luck, he’ll be an Albanian people trafficker. So when will you have some more for me?’
    ‘DNA by Monday morning. I’ll get the bone analysis under way first thing tomorrow. There’s always facial reconstruction to consider if you’re not getting anywhere with the hotel key and the hardcore forensics,’ River added thoughtfully.
    Karen pulled a face. ‘I know. And they’ve got much better at it these days, with the 3D computer imaging. But it’s expensive and if our guy is from overseas, chances are slim we’ll pick up enough hits for a definite ID. I don’t know if I can justify it in terms of budget. But I’ll bear it in mind.’
    ‘That’s the joy of modern forensics, Karen. ID used to be the hardest thing to establish when you came across human remains. But these days, there’s no hiding place. We all carry our history under the skin. That glass of wine you’re drinking now? It’s just another contribution to the sum total of Karen Pirie.’
    Karen laughed and chinked her tumbler against River’s. ‘Another hundred and twenty calories to the sum total of Karen Pirie. And speaking of which, you’ve lost weight you didn’t have to spare.’
    River’s eyes slid away from her friend. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’ve just been busy. You know how it is.’
    ‘I know when I’m busy I put weight on. Eating rubbish on the run.’
    ‘I’m the opposite. I forget to eat.’
    Karen shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. ‘See, that’s a sentence that makes no sense to me. How can you “forget” to eat?’
    River pulled herself together and forced joviality into her voice. ‘Same way you “forget” to sleep when you’re hot on the heels of an answer to something nobody else has been able to figure out.’
    ‘You know me so well. But I’m not hot on anybody’s heels tonight.’ She yawned again. ‘And tomorrow is another day. Shall we hit the hay?’
    River glanced at her watch. ‘In a bit. I need to call Ewan. He’ll still be up. I’m in the usual place, right?’
    Karen stood up, draining her glass. ‘Yeah. And tomorrow we can get cracking on the mystery man’s ID. The sooner we know that, the sooner we can find the person who put a bullet in his brain. There’s a killer out there who’s had too many undisturbed nights. It’s time to give him nightmares.’

 
    In the Balkans, the shortest distance between two points is never a straight line. History and geography have constantly collided with the human capacity for cruelty in those disputed territories. It’s the place where I discovered my own vulnerabilities with depressing repetitiousness. But it’s also a place where I discovered love and hope and the possibility of redemption.
Nothing has ever made me feel more mortal than the crash bang wallop of an artillery barrage. The scatter of light bursting across the sky, the shaking of the building around me, the terrible echo of the booming explosions filled me with terror. It’s not how I expected my working life to turn out when I signed up for a geography degree thirty-two years ago. I had no idea that being a geographer would include being shot at by snipers or driving an ambulance crammed with medical supplies halfway across Europe or hiding from secret policemen in rat-infested basements.
I wasn’t raised for this sort of adventure. I grew up in the Howe of Fife, an island of conservatism and agriculture at the heart of a radical region with a history of mining, shipbuilding and fishing. My father was what’s politely called an agricultural