The Devil's Chair by Priscilla Masters Read Free Book Online Page A

– that if the child was still missing thirty-six hours after a serious car accident in a remote and exposed area which had all but killed her mother, it was kind of unlikely that she’d simply come walking back in here unscathed. Mansfield didn’t seem to realize that ‘
little Daisy
’ was probably dead, or at the very least seriously injured. Or she could have been abducted in whatever state by their mystery caller. And what could his or her motive possibly be for concealing a dead, injured or at the very least traumatized child? Hardly benevolent. But Tinsley didn’t point any of this out to Neil Mansfield.
    â€˜We need a list of the clothes Daisy was wearing,’ she said.
    Mansfield looked resigned. ‘Pyjamas,’ he said. ‘They’re new. Tesco’s.’
    Tinsley waited, pen poised.
    â€˜White with …’ Mansfield searched his memory. ‘… teddy bears on, I think,’ he said. ‘Yellow teddy bears.’
    â€˜Slippers?’
    â€˜I think so,’ Mansfield said dubiously.
    â€˜Pink as well?’
    Mansfield smiled ruefully and nodded.
    â€˜Anything else?’
    â€˜She was holding her little toy. She’s always sucking on it.’
    â€˜Do you have a picture of her holding it?’
    Mansfield reached for his mobile phone, scrolled through a couple of pictures then passed it across to the two officers. On the screen was a picture of Daisy, tears on her cheek, her mouth full of what looked like a soft toy with a bushy tail. It looked identical to the Jellycat squirrel they’d found near the crash site in Carding Mill Valley.
    Tinsley handed the phone back to Mansfield, who was watching her with guarded wariness.
    With a quick glance and a nod from Talith, Tinsley affirmed what must have been going through Mansfield’s mind. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We found one like it near the car. We’ll be testing it for Daisy’s DNA to ascertain whether it’s hers.’
    Mansfield nodded, his face a sickly green.
    â€˜There is one other thing,’ Talith said quickly. ‘This is a recording of the nine-nine-nine call made to report the accident. Can you listen to it, please, and tell me whether you recognize the voice.’
    â€˜There’s a car gorn orf the Burway … Wrecked … Someone’s inside ’urt … A woman.’
    Neil Mansfield listened intently but his face remained baffled. Slowly he shook his head, mystified.
    With a quick glance at her colleague, Lara Tinsley stood up. ‘Is there any chance we can take a look around Daisy’s room?’
    Mansfield jerked his head towards the staircase. ‘Be my guest,’ he said with cold sarcasm.
    The staircase was narrow and carpeted in pale beige which had more than a few wine stains decorating it. Daisy’s room was patently the one at the top, on the left, the one with a Barbie doll beckoning them in. It was neatly decorated (presumably by Neil) in lemon wallpaper and a teddy bears’ picnic frieze with a small single bed in its centre. The window was open, the bedclothes still thrown back, a damp patch on the bottom sheet bearing testimony to Mansfield’s story. Toys and books were scattered around randomly, some clothes – a small pair of jeans, a flowered dress and a cardigan. Shoes but no slippers. On the wall was a poster of a Disney princess and hanging on the back of the door was a Snow White outfit, red and blue bodice, bouffant yellow skirt and plastic crown. It conjured up a picture of a very typical little princess, everyone’s beautiful, innocent child. They turned away from it and headed back down the stairs. There was nothing to be gained here; they had what they needed. ‘If there is any news of Daisy we’ll be in touch, Mr Mansfield. We have your mobile and landline?’
    Mansfield nodded, his face haunted. ‘What do you think’s happened to her?’ he asked. Answers,