Free Devil's Game by Patricia Hall Page A

free will.’
    Laura could hear the ripple of excitement amongst the reporters, as the TV camera tightened its angle on the husband and a couple of cameras flashed. The room was very hot now, and she could see a trickle of sweat running down the side of Bastable’s face. And it was obvious from Thackeray’s expression that Bastable was straying fast off the police script.
    ‘So she could have gone to meet someone?’ Baker asked, but DCI Thackeray, rather than Terry Bastable, answered this time.
    ‘That is one of the lines of inquiry we are investigating,’ he said. ‘But by no means the only one. There must be some reason why Karen Bastable’s car was driven ten miles from her home into a remote area, but so far we have absolutely noidea what that reason was, or even if she drove it there herself. We’re hoping that the media’s input will clarify some of these points, and I appeal to anyone who knows anything about Karen Bastable’s movements after she left home at six on Tuesday evening and the time her car was first spotted in Bently Forest – though unfortunately not immediately reported to us – the following morning. You’ve got full details of the make and colour of her car in your press release. And if Karen herself hears this appeal, I would just like to reinforce the point. Please get in touch with us or with Terry. We really need to know if you are safe and well. Nothing is as important as that. Your husband and children need to hear from you. I think that’s all we can give you for the moment, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you very much for coming.’
    Thackeray got to his feet, quickly followed by his colleague who helped the glowering Terry Bastable to his feet and ushered him out of the room. Laura sat for a moment as the TV crew began packing up their equipment until Bob Baker turned away from a brief flirtation with the attractive TV reporter and bore down in her direction.
    ‘What did you make of that little performance?’ he asked.
    Laura shrugged. ‘Mr Bastable looked genuine enough, even if he is a bit of a thug,’ she said. ‘But you can never tell, can you?’
    ‘Damn right you can’t,’ Baker said. ‘Remember Ian Huntley? All smiles and deep concern for bloody weeks until they found the bodies of those little girls. We don’t even know if this beggar is telling the truth when he says Karen went off on her own. He could have killed her and driven her body out there to dump it.’
    ‘So why leave the car there?’ Laura objected. ‘It was the carthat aroused suspicion. It could have been weeks before anyone started searching up there for a body, if they ever did. Without the car, a corpse could lie up there for years. It doesn’t make sense.’
    ‘Well, I don’t know. Maybe she did meet a boyfriend up there and Bastable followed her in another car. Who knows? What I do reckon is that your lover boy’s appeal for her to get in touch was all a waste of breath. He knows far more than he’s letting on at this stage. She’s dead, is Karen Bastable. I’d put money on it. So, chop-chop. Another nice little murder mystery to entertain the readers. I reckon this is going to be quite a juicy one.’ And with that Baker bustled away, tape recorder in hand, leaving Laura wondering why Michael Thackeray had been so obviously cagey that even the generally insensitive Bob Baker had noticed.

CHAPTER FIVE
    ‘So what did you make of that, guv?’ Sergeant Kevin Mower asked the DCI as they made their way back to their offices after Terry Bastable’s appeal to the press. They had sent Bastable home in a taxi after his performance, still protesting that there was no way Karen would have abandoned him and his family voluntarily.
    ‘Not a lot,’ Thackeray said bluntly. ‘But until we find a body, it’s going to be difficult to prove that he’s harmed her. Nothing’s come back from the search teams, I don’t suppose?’
    ‘The place where her car was found was thoroughly churned up by