The Devil's Chair Read Online Free Page A

cottage was empty at the time,’ Randall continued. ‘It belongs to a single woman who works mostly abroad. Her name’s Charity Ignatio and she’s currently in Dubai. Last night she was at a public dinner in the city. I’ve spoken to her this morning and she has assured me that when she is away no one goes into her cottage. Not even her cleaner. So …’ His eyes locked into hers. ‘Who made the phone call? Who reported the accident?’
    Martha made no comment, so he continued: ‘When the local police and air ambulance arrived the car was surrounded by a group of girls doing their Duke of Edinburgh Award. Wisely, they hadn’t tried to remove Tracy from the car. She was unconscious at the time with a broken neck, a head injury and various other broken bones.’ Alex looked less than sympathetic. ‘Daisy,’ he said gravely, ‘is still missing. There is absolutely no sign of her. The Duke of Edinburgh girls plus members of the general public familiar with the Stretton Hills have helped us look for the little girl but we haven’t found her.’ He leaned forward, his face strained. ‘She’s vanished,’ he said simply, baffled.
    â€˜Could she have survived the accident and wandered off?’
    Alex sat back in his seat, watching her from beneath lowered lids. ‘Of course, it’s possible, Martha,’ he said, ‘but we’ve searched every square mile of that immediate area. She’s only four years old and would have been in shock. Possibly injured. The people who have helped us search know these hills, the valleys, the streams and the vegetation like the back of their hands. They could walk it blindfold. We’ve found a soft toy but have yet to identify it as Daisy’s.’
    â€˜Then is it certain she was in the car in the first place?’
    Randall’s expression was grave. ‘According to Neil.’ And she could hear the doubt in his voice.
    â€˜Well, Alex,’ she said softly, ‘you know the old adage: “When you’ve discounted the impossible, whatever remains …”’
    â€˜However improbable.’ He looked up, a hint of a smile softening his features. ‘She
hasn’t
been taken by fairies, Martha, as one of the locals, a Mr Faulkener, has suggested.’
    â€˜No,’ she agreed.
    â€˜Or the Devil.’
    She shook her head. ‘Not him either.’
    His eyes were pleading with her for some rational explanation.
    â€˜Well,’ she said, bound to respond to the detective, ‘call me a pedant but it would seem to me that whoever made the phone call has Daisy.’ She hesitated, before adding, with concern harshening her voice, ‘Who may well be injured. Was the caller a man or a woman?’
    â€˜A woman, the call centre girl thinks.’
    â€˜Thinks?’
    â€˜She thought a woman with a gruff voice but it could have been a man.’
    â€˜What
exactly
did the caller say?’
    â€˜That there was a car,’ he gave an apologetic smile, ‘
gorn orf
the Burway and that a woman was hurt.’
    Martha frowned. ‘Someone,’ she repeated. ‘Not two people or anything suggesting a child was in the car?’
    â€˜No. There was no mention of the child.’
    â€˜I assume the caller didn’t leave a name?’
    â€˜Correct. Until we called at the place and found out the facts we just
assumed
the caller was the owner of Hope Cottage. We were busy with the rescue operation so didn’t check out Hope Cottage for some hours.’
    Randall stopped speaking for a moment. He was frowning and looking out of the window, as though searching in the town for some clue. ‘There is something else,’ he said reluctantly. ‘The tyre tracks.’
    â€˜Go on.’
    â€˜Tracy drove up the hill, it would appear, at quite a lick. There are fresh tyre marks around one or two of the corners. Obviously, at that time of night, she