‘It would be better if—’
‘If you have anything further to say,’ the old man scuttled fast enough to take Jenna by surprise, his voice fading as he neared his wreck of a car, ‘I suggest you follow in your own car.’ He jerked to a stop and spun around to face her, his neck and shoulders making the turn together in one rigid motion. ‘Unless you need a lift.’
‘No, I—’
Without a pause, he yanked open his car door, slipped inside and fired up an engine that rattled loud enough to be heard above the crackle of the fire. Before Jenna gathered herself, Mr Crawford was off.
Undecided, Jenna hesitated, torn between her duty to ensure the old man was safe and staying at the scene.
‘Bloody hell.’ Jenna scoured the perimeter of the cordon, patting her pockets for her car keys. ‘Is there anyone else to question?’
‘No one.’ Mason yawned as he scrubbed a hand over his chin making it rasp against the stubble. ‘I had a quick word with PC Walker. He’s noted the details of any onlookers. There aren’t that many. Most people have probably slept through it. The ones who are here have been questioned, but no one knows anything. Nothing urgent. No eyewitnesses. Any further questions will keep until later this morning.’
Jenna nodded her agreement.
Mason jerked upright and shook the tiredness away, ‘Jesus, is that a classic?’
Jenna scrubbed the flop of hair back from her face. ‘I don’t think it’s considered a classic, not with that much rust on it.’ She really hadn’t a clue.
‘Isn’t it the age that defines whether it’s a classic, not necessarily the state it’s in? Someone would do it up, I’m sure.’ His unexpected enthusiasm did nothing to reassure her.
She took another glance at the rickety old car. ‘Bet my badge it’s not insured or MOT’d.’
As the Volvo rattled off along the dirt track and then took a sharp left over farmland, Jenna heaved out a long groan.
‘Great.’ Decision made, Jenna jerked her head towards the police vehicle. ‘Quick. Jump in.’
Mason’s wicked chuckle filled the car as Jenna strapped herself in.
‘Right, let’s get after Mr Crawford. Make sure he gets home safely.’ She glanced over as the ambulance pulled away behind the ancient Volvo.
‘Really, do we need to?’
‘He’s a bit unsteady. At this time of night, I couldn’t forgive myself if he didn’t make it home.’ Jenna took one hand off the steering wheel to run it through her hair, almost tempted to tug it out. ‘Please tell me the ambulance isn’t going to follow him, that would mean we have to because, bloody hell, I didn’t get their address.’ She shot Mason a quick glance before concentrating on the two vehicles ahead. ‘Did you?’
‘No, Sarge, I assumed you…’
‘Shit.’ She blew out a breath ‘Ted Walker will have it.’ She’d bet her life on it.
As the ambulance continued towards the main road, Jenna contemplated which vehicle to follow. She made a snap decision. ‘I think it’s got to be him, because if we lose him and something happens, how the hell would we know?’
‘I agree. Besides, it could be a long way around by road.’
‘But legal.’
‘I don’t think we’d be doing anything illegal by pursuing him across farmland.’
‘Not us, you dopey sod. If we need an excuse, I’ll think of one. But, dear God, if I don’t follow him and he disappears, we’ll have to call out Air Unit One.’
Mason’s mouth dropped open. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’
Only half kidding, she veered off the track to follow the dim taillights of the vehicle ahead. A slight hitch of concern tightening her throat. The last time she’d called out Air Unit One, it had been for the disappearance of her own sister.
With a light shudder, Jenna pressed her foot to the accelerator to speed up and catch Mr Crawford before he disappeared. Their vehicle bumped and banged over the uneven ground enough to rattle the teeth in her head.
‘Maybe his Volvo isn’t so old, it’s just lived a hard life.’ Mason’s voice jiggled unevenly in rhythm with the car movement, little grunts emitting from his lips as he clung on to the grab handle above the door.
Jenna barked out a laugh. ‘Did you see the registration number? It was made in 1985. 1985! Before I was born!’
Mason cast her a sly sideways look. ‘Not that long before.’ His teeth clacked together as she hit another pothole. ‘Mind, but it did look rough.’
Jenna jerked her head in his direction. ‘What are you implying?’ She squinted at him in the pitch black to see if she could detect his sarcasm. The merest twitch of his lips made her think he’d had another poke at their age difference. Only a few months, but he liked to rub it in, have a little dig.
The breath whooshed from her as she hit a deep rut in the field. Mason’s arm jerked out to slap on the plastic fascia and the loud grunt that accompanied it filled the car.
She huffed out a breathless laugh. ‘Serves you right.’
The steering wheel jerked from her hands as they hit another pothole and she raised her foot from the accelerator to allow the car to slow down, comfortable she still had the old Volvo in her sights.
‘Call Control and let them know we’ve left the manor house and are… hmm… pursuing Mr Crawford. Obviously, not in so many words.’
‘Do we want to inform them yet when we don’t even know where we’re going?’
‘Good point. Let’s keep it to ourselves. Of course, I’m probably in the mire anyway because this vehicle is not going to escape unscathed from this.’
‘Who would have known the territory would be so rough?’
Jenna sighed. ‘We should have. One look at Mr Crawford and we should have known.’
‘Yeah, feisty little bugger he is. Your typical old Dawley boy.’
Jenna’s teeth jarred. ‘What did he have to say about the fire?’
‘It was short. It was sweet. He didn’t like Gordon Lawrence. Thought he was an arrogant git, but he wouldn’t wish harm on him and hoped the family had gone out for the night. He seriously doubted it.’
‘Why?’
‘He said Ethel couldn’t stop whining about the noise from the party. Loud music. He’s deaf as a post, though, so he heard nothing.’
‘Did he mention how he noticed the fire?’
‘Yeah, he was fast asleep when Ethel woke him. Says she has a screech like a vixen. Almost gave him a heart attack. She told him the house was on fire and to “get out, get out!” She flung on her housecoat…’ he peered sideways at Jenna ‘…dressing gown, I assume he meant. He got himself dressed. Checked the house over and realised the smoke – which he said he can’t smell since he kept pigs for the past sixty-four years – wasn’t coming from their house. He couldn’t smell it, but he could see it. Jesus, thank God he’s got his eyesight, because all his other senses are fucked.’ Mason’s laughter hiccupped out of him as they hit another pothole. ‘Mrs Crawford panicked and rushed outside. When they saw the fire on the horizon, Mr Crawford called it in. Fire, police, ambulance. Said he hadn’t a clue who needed to know so he’d requested them all.’