The Mayor himself will not hurt you; you are too valuable to risk. However, he is a dangerous man and he will use your abilities for terrible ends. He must be stopped.
I cannot show you how to harness your abilities. You must learn that yourself. Learn how to enter dreams and to alter the realities you find there; learn how to heal and how to live, and you will overcome the Mayor, the Department, and all that they stand for. We are all counting on you.
Your servant,
Dean Salib
‘That’s it?’ I exclaim aloud. ‘That’s what you have to tell me?’
I shake my head in disgust. Not only is there no useful information about how to do anything but it also seems that the reason I’ve been trapped inside my own house for the last year and a half was because of my ‘protector’. The shock I felt when he touched me before dying must have been when he removed his mind blocks. I stare at the words until they begin to blur. Sure, I’ve learnt to live with my agoraphobia, I’ve even tricked myself into embracing it. But I lost every semblance of a real life in the process – and for what? Because one man wants to see people’s dreams? So what?
I must be missing something. The fact that the Mayor is prepared to murder in his quest to achieve dream dominance suggest that there’s more to this than meets the eye.
I start to shake with anger. Salib wrote that he was trying to protect me from being manipulated but all he did was manipulate me. I stare at the letter. He’s ruined my life.
I march outside, screwing the letter up in my hand as I do. A second later, I change my mind and start ripping it up. I let the wind carry away the shreds.
‘I don’t want any of this!’ I shout after the dancing bits of paper. ‘It’s not fair!’ I curse loudly, shove my hands in my pockets and head for home.
Goodness knows what I’m supposed to do now.
***
I may have made the journey here in a state of high alert and fear, but I barely pay attention on the way back. I stumble down the cliff path to the beach, turning for one brief moment to the waves which roar their way up the sand. Then I shrug and turn back towards the town.
I’m halfway up the hill and less than twenty minutes from home when a car pulls up beside me. I ignore it; the thought that it stopped for me is a ridiculous notion. But when I’ve gone several feet past it and a familiar voice dripping with disdain calls out, I come to a halt.
‘Ms Lydon. Outside enjoying the fresh air? What a surprise.’
I turn round. ‘Sergeant Rawlins.’
‘What happened to your well-advertised agoraphobia?’
‘I suppose I’m cured.’ I give a tired shrug. My tone is flat. ‘Hurrah.’
‘How convenient. I wondered how we were going to get you out of your house and down to the station. Clearly, I shouldn’t have worried.’ Her eyes are flinty and I realise for the first time that I might be in trouble.
‘Why do I need to come to the police station?’
She doesn’t smile. ‘We need to ask you a few questions.’
‘We?’
Hartman gets out of the police car, his expression one of shocked dismay. I look from one to the other. ‘What is going on here?’
‘Get into the car, Ms Lydon.’
‘No,’ I say slowly, ‘I don’t think I will. If you have questions then come by the house later.’
‘I don’t think you understand. I am detaining you under Section 14 of the Criminal Procedure Act pertaining to your involvement in two suspicious deaths, those of Dean Salib and Thomas Miller.’
My mouth drops open. ‘You’re kidding me.’
‘No, Ms Lydon, I can assure you I am not. Now, please, get into the car.’
***
I’m taken to an interrogation room. A young man who introduces himself as the duty solicitor is already waiting. The entire situation feels unreal and I wonder if I’m still stuck in a strange dream. Maybe the Mayor conjured one up for me. What other reason could there be for my suddenly overcoming agoraphobia and being accused with murder?
The solicitor sticks out his hand but, in case this situation is real, I don’t want to touch him. I shake my head imperceptibly.
‘My name is Andy Brown,’ he says. ‘The police can contact another solicitor of your choice if you wish.’
‘No,’ I answer. ‘That’s alright.’
‘They are also obliged to contact a family member or friend.’
The only person I can think of is my mother and I’m not sure she could cope with the shock. I’m not sure I can cope with the shock. I shake my head and sit down on an uncomfortable aluminium chair. A few moments later, Rawlins appears and sits opposite.
‘So, Ms Lydon, when exactly did you overcome your agoraphobia?’
She’s clearly wasting no time. I raise my eyes to hers in an attempt to convey my innocence. ‘This morning. Around dawn.’
‘I see. And prior to this morning, when was the last time you were outside?’
‘About eighteen months ago.’