Jasper’s face was flushed, with a hunted look about it; eyes wide with fear and his teeth bared. When he saw how close behind him they were, his head disappeared back inside the car.
‘No, he’s not going to…’ Peterson started to say as they came within ten metres of the Ford, before it pulled away and off the edge of the steps. Erika thought for a moment that Jasper was going to make it, as the car tipped forward and set off down the steep steps at a slow speed, but as he reached the bottom, the incline must have been too great, because the car hit the path below and flipped over with a roar of its engine. It rolled over twice on the grass, coming to a stop at the edge of the play park.
‘No!’ cried Peterson, grabbing the door as they reached the edge of the steps. Erika braked abruptly and could see how steep the drop was fifteen steps below.
‘I wasn’t going to drive down after him!’ cried Erika, yanking up the handbrake and unclipping her seatbelt.
‘I did wonder for a minute,’ said Peterson. She opened the door and ran down the steps. He undid his seatbelt and followed.
Jasper’s car lay on its roof with the back wheels still spinning and black smoke pouring from the exhaust. There was a row of thin trees lining the footpath by the play park and he’d hit one of them. The tree was bent over, but hadn’t snapped, and was holding up the front of the car.
As they ran towards the upturned car, Erika could see people coming out onto their balconies from the blocks of flats. She heard Peterson behind her calling in to control with an update on the pursuit. And then she saw Jasper, bleeding from his forehead as he wriggled out of the driver’s window. He started to limp away, picking up speed, but Erika reached him and grabbed hold of his shirt. He slithered out of it, and carried on running towards the play park. She stumbled with his shirt in her hand and for a moment she thought that, somehow, Jasper was going to get away. As he wound his way through the swings his arm caught on one of the chains and he went down onto the ground. Erika was on him a moment later, and Peterson was at her side with a pair of handcuffs.
‘No! You can’t do this!’ Jasper cried. There was blood pouring from the gash on his head and running into his right eye.
‘What are you doing? Why are you running?’ said Erika, trying to catch her breath.
‘I just wanted to go. I just… Want to leave this place, and everything in it.’
‘Do you even know why we were at your house?’
He stopped fighting and sank back on the grass.
‘Tess is okay, I saw her standing with you on the pavement…’
‘We found Vicky’s body this morning, in your house.’
He gasped, trying to catch his breath.
‘What?’
Erika looked at Peterson.
‘Where were you last night? Tess said you left and took cash and valuables with you.’
‘I was at the restaurant. I slept at the restaurant,’ he said. ‘Oh, Jesus. Vicky’s dead?’
‘Yes,’ said Erika. ‘She’s dead.’
35
The upturned car was drawing a crowd outside the block of flats, and people were watching and taking photos from their balconies above.
An ambulance had arrived swiftly on the scene, and Jasper had been taken to hospital to be checked out for concussion and have the cut on his head stitched up. A police car was parked beside Erika’s car at the top of the steps, and three uniformed officers had cordoned off Jasper’s car with a circle of police tape and were now standing guard and scowling up at the people watching from their balconies. Erika wasn’t sure if this was causing more problems than it was worth. This was a rough block of flats on a dodgy estate, and the presence of the police was bringing out the usual clowns.
‘Hey, Luther,’ said a voice from above. Erika and Peterson looked up. A young lad with acne and a ratty fuzz of stubble on his face was looking down at them from a balcony on the third floor above. At his knee, poking his head through the railings, was a tiny elf-like boy in a fluffy blue dressing gown. They ignored him, and Erika looked back at the car. She didn’t want to wait for the tow truck to arrive. The hatchback boot had been filled with bags of groceries, and during the crash, they’d discharged themselves over the inside of the car, littering it with oranges, apples, tins of beans and fruit and rice from a burst bag. Amongst the food, there were three large rucksacks on the back seat. Erika heard a whistle from above and something came raining down, splattering on the grass. Peterson jumped out of the way.
‘Sorry, I spilled my tea,’ said the young lad on the balcony above. The little boy with him cackled and shrieked with laughter.