‘You know the first question you’ll be asked is why.’
This is an odd situation where the truth will probably end up helping me. ‘Salib messed with my mind,’ I say earnestly. ‘It’s because of him that I’m agoraphobic.’
Brown leans forward. ‘He abused you?’
‘He cast a spell so I was afraid to leave my own home.’
I can see the doubt creeping into Brown’s eyes. ‘And Dr Miller?’
‘He prescribed me some pills. They made me feel funny.’
‘So you killed him too?’
‘Yes.’ I lean back and knit my fingers together.
‘How? It appears as if both he and Mr Salib had heart attacks.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Ms Lydon, I’m your solicitor. If you choose to retain me, that is,’ he adds quickly. ‘You can trust me.’
I try to inject the right amount of crazy. ‘Are you sure you want to be my solicitor? What if I end up killing you too?’
Brown is alarmed. He pulls back as if I might suddenly pounce on him; if the situation weren’t so serious, I’d probably laugh. He clears his throat. ‘Well, normal procedure after you’ve been charged would be to transport you to the larger facility in Aberdeen to await trial.’
‘But?’
‘You’ve still not been charged. The police want to keep you here for further questioning.’
The tension that’s been eating away at my stomach subsides. I’d been counting on that but it’s still a relief to have it confirmed. I am, however, living on borrowed time and I can’t afford to waste a single minute. ‘All this is incredibly stressful,’ I tell him. ‘I could do with a nap.’
‘Sergeant Rawlins is waiting to question you.’
I tilt my head slightly. ‘My brain is fuzzy. Like there’s a strange fog inside it. It’s probably those pills I took earlier.’
He stiffens. ‘Pills?’
‘Valium,’ I lie. ‘They make everything ... dreamy.’
He frowns. ‘I can make sure they won’t interrogate you until your head is clear.’
Yahtzee! ‘Maybe if I lie down for a while...?’
‘That might be a good idea after all. I’ll see what I can do.’
***
I’m aware that I’m playing with fire. Even with my faked drugged state, Rawlins won’t remain patient for long. I feel as if I’m balancing on a tightrope: one wrong move in either direction and I’ll end up splattered on hard concrete – possibly literally.
It doesn’t help that there’s constant noise and a harsh overhead light shining into my eyes. I flip over onto my stomach and try to regulate my breathing. Middle of the afternoon or not, I need to sleep. Whether it’s an effect of the stress of the day, or mild concussion from my mother’s earlier efforts with the frying pan, it’s surprisingly easy. In fact, the relief of waking up in the forest is almost indescribable.
Aware that I probably won’t have long before someone wakes me up, I get to work straight away, dashing through the trees to find what I need. The thick darkness makes it difficult to see but the Mayor’s predictability helps and in less than ten minutes I hear someone. I move as quietly as possible. It’s rather disappointing to recognise Kevin, who so ardently admired Ashley, bending over and setting a fresh trap. The Mayor probably sends his minions out here every day, and I imagine he’s stepped up his operations since the mares were freed.
I watch from behind a tree, hoping that it won’t be Esme who hands over the traps. Given that she tried to point me in the right direction to save the captured mares, it’s unlikely but that doesn’t mean the thought doesn’t niggle at me, however.
Rather than interrupting Kevin, I hang back until he’s finished and heading back to town before I move. As soon as I’m sure I’m alone, I grab the trap carefully, pinching its edges between my fingers. I don’t want to set it off. It’s a lot heavier than I expected and it’s a struggle to move swiftly now I’m holding it. I’m thankful that I know my way around a little better now.
I wait until I’ve passed several trees etched with my little Zs before I lay the trap back down on the ground. I don’t want to be too close to the town and I hope I’ve judged the distance correctly; I’m only going to get one shot at this. Once I’m satisfied with its position, and I’ve double-checked that it’s open and ready to snare a new victim, I stand up.
‘Lilith,’ I call softly. ‘Are you there?’ There’s no immediate response. I try again. ‘Hello? Lilith?’
I hear a rustle and the woman appears to my left. She’s licking her lips and there’s an oddly satisfied expression on her face.
‘What have you been doing?’ I ask suspiciously.
‘Lunch.’ Her red lips curve into a spine-chilling smile.
I repress a shudder. ‘I need some help.’
‘Little dreamweaver,’ she coos. ‘What can I possibly do to help you?’
I outline my plan. Once I’m finished, she wavers from side to side as if she’s performing some kind of strange dance. ‘Why should I do this?’