I’m rather nervous about this. I check the clock; the police can only detain me without charge for twelve hours, unless they request an extension. Considering the three-hour nap I’ve had, there’s not much time left so they’re not likely to let me sleep again. But I can’t go free because the Mayor is lurking around. I take a deep breath. My only chance is to delay.
‘I’ve always been a difficult child,’ I start.
Rawlins rolls her eyes. ‘We don’t need an autobiography. Tell me how you first met Dean Salib and Thomas Miller.’
I give her a steely stare. ‘I’m getting to it. Do you want to hear this or not? I’ve already confessed, you know. You could just charge me.’
I get the feeling her fingers are itching to strangle me. Instead she smiles, although there’s no humour in her eyes. ‘Go on then. You were a difficult child?’
‘I was a difficult child. You could ask my mother – except she’s gone off on holiday. She got a last-minute deal this morning for Malaga.’
‘Funny that.’
I cock my head and look innocent. ‘Is it?’
‘Just get to the point.’
I don’t. I talk for over an hour, which is quite an achievement for me. I go into detail about my night terrors, about the anger I felt towards my teacher when I was seven for awarding Becky Kinsley a star for her homework when mine was better. Brown gets more and more puzzled and Rawlins gets more and more annoyed. Every time she snaps a question at me to bring me back on topic, I swing things round again. I prevaricate and ramble in a way that an MP would be proud of. I’m rather impressed with myself but I’m the only person in the room who feels that way.
‘You are skating on thin ice. Why did you kill them?’
‘But you said you wanted me to start at the beginning... Don’t you want to understand my motives?’
Brown clears his throat. ‘Uh, Zoe, perhaps we could have a word in private?’
Excellent. More time-wasting. I beam at the solicitor. ‘Sure.’
Rawlins sighs. The second she leaves the room, Brown’s bland expression changes. ‘What are you up to?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘It’s obvious that you’re playing for time. What’s going on?’
I act dumb. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You’re only going to annoy the police with all this wishy-washy crap.’
I wonder what he’s worried about. I’ve already confessed to murder; what else are the police likely to do? Pin Shergar’s kidnapping on me? ‘I’m trying to explain my mindset,’ I say.
‘Use fewer words,’ he tells me through gritted teeth.
I shrug. ‘I’ll try.’ I lick my lips. ‘Could I get a drink of water though?’
***
I spin things out for a while longer. When even I think I’ve run out of rope, I finally accede to Rawlins’ demands and answer her questions properly.
‘So,’ I say, ‘because his help essentially turned me agoraphobic and crazy, I killed him.’
Next to me, Brown suddenly sits up. I can almost smell his relief that I’ve said something noteworthy.
‘And how did you do that?’ Rawlins asks.
‘The proof is in my house. In the cupboard under the stairs.’
‘What proof exactly?’
‘I can’t explain it properly. You need to see it for yourself for it to make sense.’
‘We’ll need to get a search warrant – and it’s already late. Ms Lydon, as a result of your inability to answer questions, we also need to request an extension on your detention.’
‘You could charge me.’
Rawlins hisses. ‘Something’s going on here.’
‘Sergeant!’ Brown does a good job of acting shocked. ‘I hope you’re not threatening my client.’
‘This morning, you were adamant you were innocent; now you’re adamant you’re guilty. What’s all this really about?’
I realise that despite her fear of me, Rawlins doesn’t think I’m capable of murder. It makes me like her even more. She wasn’t so convinced the first time around; I wonder if my intervention in her dream changed her mind.
She leans in towards me. ‘What are you afraid of, Zoe?’ she asks softly.
For the first time, I don’t know what to say. My face pales and I start to stutter to cover my tracks but the damage is done. Rawlins gives a tiny smile. ‘Let’s take a break. Let Ms Lydon get some rest.’
***
I ignore Brown’s repeated requests to talk to me alone and ask to go back to my cell. Night has already fallen so there’s a good chance I’ll be able to start my final play. I lie down again on the small narrow bed. Sleep, Zoe, I tell myself. Bloody sleep.
I close my eyes and try to relax. When that doesn’t work I fall back on my meditation techniques but it’s no use, I’ve slept too much in the last few days. I do what I can to squash down my frustration. If I can’t get to sleep, I’m impotent. I need to get to the Dreamlands to have any hope of bringing down the Mayor.
I switch positions. It doesn’t work. I count sheep. It doesn’t work. I’m completely wide awake and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
The door rattles and my small cell is flooded with light. I moan softly. They can’t want to question me again already, I’ve not been back here more than thirty minutes.
‘Your solicitor is here to see you,’ says a gruff voice.