of people, Bill. They’re completely unreliable – a nightmare. You can’t believe anything they say. I wouldn’t mind betting Amy’s pushed the police to that point. She’s been charged with Matt’s murder, so they already know what she’s capable of. That has to strengthen my case?’
Bill’s silent for a moment. ‘Let’s hope you’re right.’
*
As we return to the interview room, Bill nudges my elbow. ‘Don’t worry. If all they have is an unreliable witness, it isn’t going to be enough.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ I mutter as we walk inside. After standing outside, the staleness of the air in this room is suffocating. ‘I need to open the window.’ But when I go over and try to, it’s firmly locked.
‘I’ll see if I can get someone to sort that.’ Bill heads for the door, but before he reaches it, it’s opened from the outside as DI Lacey and PC Page come in.
‘Could we open the window?’
DI Lacey glances towards me. ‘Someone was looking for the key the other day. They didn’t find it.’ Pulling out a chair he sits down. ‘Shall we continue?’
Irritated, I sit down next to Bill, but this time, it’s PC Page who speaks. ‘All evidence so far points to your involvement in Kimberley’s death. You’ve even admitted it.’
As she says that, Bill interrupts. ‘My client has admitted to no such thing. She had no knowledge of the poison, nor of Emily’s intention.’
PC Page is silent for a moment. ‘As I was saying, until we have conclusive evidence that proves that either you did or didn’t administer the poison to Kimberley, we have no choice but to hold you in custody. Ms Rose, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Kimberley Preston. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Speechless, I turn to Bill. They can’t do this. But he’s ahead of me.
‘Just a moment.’ Bill sounds angry. ‘You can’t hold my client. You already have another suspect in Kimberley’s death.’
‘That’s correct, Mr Merton. But in this case, potentially, we have two.’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
After the paperwork is completed, my fingerprints and DNA sample are taken. Before Bill leaves, he assures me we can work out how we’re going to tackle this.
‘This shouldn’t be happening.’ He looked grim. ‘I’ll do my best to find someone or something to back up your story.’
But as I suffer the indignity of being escorted by a uniformed officer to a cell, Bill’s determination doesn’t stop the feeling of claustrophobia that consumes me. As I step inside, the door is closed behind me. It’s hours until tomorrow. I wonder if Amy is still here or since being charged, she’s been moved somewhere else, as I curse her and her ability to ruin everything for me. Feeling my anger return, I get a hold of myself. I have to believe in Bill, make full use of each one of these hours I’m in here, to think.
Sitting on the narrow bed, closing my eyes, I breathe deeply, trying to centre myself. Shaking off my anger, I tell myself that by tomorrow this will be over; that I’ll load up my car, leave this county and never come back here – not even for my job. It has the desired effect and when I open my eyes again, I’m slightly calmer. Looking around, I study the room, its white painted walls, cheap carpet, the most basic bathroom facilities, aware of how completely closed off from the world I am. Lying back on the bed, I stretch my hands behind my head. Only this morning I was thinking of the future. I never imagined that by this evening, I’d end up here.
*
I sleep fitfully, waking early. The custody process itself wears you down, making you more vulnerable. I’m brought insipid tea and white toast, which I nibble at, only because I know I must fortify myself for what lies ahead. Then I wait, for the sound of approaching footsteps, of other doors being unlocked until at last it’s my turn. This morning, a PC I haven’t met before waits outside the open door. ‘Ms Rose? Would you come with me?’
*
In the interview room, Bill is already there waiting for me. He looks stressed. ‘I’m sorry, Fiona. I didn’t get very far. It isn’t good.’ As he shakes his head, I’m filled with a feeling of foreboding. ‘I don’t