Chapter 42. Juliet, the Model
Juliet, the Model
PRESENT DAY
Juliet staggered through the rubble, struggling to breathe.
She’d thought she’d gotten far enough from Knox Aeronautics, thought the bomb would create a small blast, more a show of defiance than anything.
But the explosion had rocked her blocks away, and when chunks of building and shattered glass hurtled down like deadly volcanic ash, she screamed and ran alongside everyone else.
Now she was searching the pandemonium, desperate to make sure no one was hurt. Luca had sworn. Everyone was supposed to be out of the blast radius. It was supposed to be victimless, except for Knox. But the panicked people pushing past one another, scattering like hunted animals—they were victims.
Juliet had done this to them.
On one side of the street, a ring of men crouched around a woman, all of them streaked with a thick film of grit that had once been a building. The woman rocked on the ground, screaming into her hands.
Juliet wove through the swarm of fleeing people and ran to them.
“Is she hurt?” she yelled, heart pounding.
“I think she’s just in shock,” said one of the men. They were dressed in matching tank tops with Scout’s face bedazzled with sequins.
Juliet seized the woman’s dirty arm. “Please tell us if you’re hurt so we can get you to an ER.”
“Jessica,” urged another man. “Talk to us, honey.”
The woman lifted her tearstained face. “I don’t want to die.”
She thought they were under attack. That, at any moment, another building would explode.
“You’re safe,” Juliet assured her. “Nothing else—”
“Cops!” one of them men shouted. “Thank god. Please, over here!”
Out of the clouds of dust, a squad of officers in Kevlar vests surged down the street, led by a blond in a thick vest, her gun raised, eyes combing the streets.
It was Detective Holloway. The same cop who was investigating Scout. Juliet scrambled back, about to take off, when Holloway’s voice cracked the air.
“Juliet Snodgrass—freeze.”
The entire world froze at the command—not just Juliet, but every person running around her. The only things still moving were the particles of dust drifting down like iridescent rain.
Every eye turned to Juliet.
She was caught.
“Put your hands up,” Holloway barked. “Slowly.”
But how did Holloway know Juliet was to blame? The blast had happened only minutes ago.
Juliet raised her hands and looked up at the gathering storm clouds. It felt like this was happening to someone else. She wanted to hold on to that feeling.
Rough hands gripped her shoulders, wrestling off her backpack with such force she staggered forward.
“Hold still,” yelled an officer, while another seized her wrists and yanked them behind her back. “Do you have any weapons?”
“No,” she gasped. She could hear them ripping through her backpack.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, a half-hearted stab at innocence.
Luca had told her that if something went wrong—it was unlikely, she’d promised, but just in case—Juliet was supposed to keep quiet.
Remain silent and let the lawyers do their jobs.
No one answered her question. Instead, calloused hands patted her down, fingers pushing inside her shirt, between her legs. She tried to grit her teeth but bit down on her tongue.
“Clear!” the officer shouted. Cold metal handcuffs snapped around her wrists, pinching the skin.
Holloway stepped in front of her. The detective was so much shorter than Juliet that she had to tilt her head up to meet Juliet’s eyes.
“Juliet Snodgrass, you’re under arrest for felony arson and the use of a destructive device with intent to injure or kill.” The words rolled out of Holloway’s mouth. Juliet wanted to scream that she’d had no intention to hurt anyone, but she bit down on her tongue again and tasted more blood.
An officer shoved her from behind. “Don’t forget possible terroristic acts.”
Holloway cut a look at the officer. “That’s for the feds to decide.
” She found Juliet’s eyes again, woman to woman.
In another lifetime, Holloway could’ve had a kind face.
The softness was there in her mouth, the gentle slope of her eyes, the honey blond of her hair.
But in this one, she’d been forged into steel.
“We know you didn’t work alone. Tell us who helped you, and you’ll have a shot at leniency. ”
Juliet clenched her jaw.
“We received an anonymous tip,” said Holloway, but Juliet wasn’t looking at her anymore.
She was looking at the grit-covered civilians who were recording her on their phones.
“Voice disguised and everything. Right to my office phone. The caller said you’d entered Knox Aeronautics wearing a suspicious backpack. ”
An anonymous tip? A sick wonder rolled through Juliet. Who?
“We checked the security footage from the building and found you arming the IED.”
The security footage? Juliet almost protested. Luca had jammed the building’s Wi-Fi. She’d told Juliet they were doing it for an entire hour. The cops couldn’t have accessed it—unless something had gone wrong, and the jamming hadn’t worked.
The detective was studying Juliet’s face, so she used all the muscle control she’d learned modeling to school her expression into indifference.
“We have you on video,” Holloway repeated. “And we know someone out there was aware of what you were planning, thanks to the tip. So I’m going to ask again: Who are you working with? Cooperating could mean a lighter sentence. Years of your life back.”
Juliet swallowed her terror and said nothing.
“Tell us, goddammit,” shouted a male officer, striking Juliet on the back of her head. Pain cracked like lightning as she fell to the street. Gasps erupted from the watching crowd.
“Gomez,” Holloway roared. “I said by the book.” The detective knelt down next to Juliet and pressed her hand to the back of Juliet’s head, where she could feel the warm, wet presence of blood.
The detective grimaced. “Get up,” she said softly.
“I’m taking you into custody.” She glanced at the surrounding officers. “You’ll ride in my car.”
Leaning on her, Juliet rose. She was so dizzy. She wanted to press her hands to her throbbing head, but her wrists were bound.
“Let’s go,” Holloway said loudly, shoving Juliet to start walking.
The officers flanked them as they parted the crowd. The violence had shifted the mood, Juliet could feel it. From behind their phones, people were watching her with curiosity and sympathy, the cops with distrust.
One of the officers leaned in and whispered, “When we get you in a cell, you’re going to tell us who helped you.”
She’d been caught—the worst possible outcome had happened. But as long as no one had gotten hurt—dear God, let no one be hurt—Juliet didn’t regret what she’d done. She’d acted for Luca, for the Green Lions, and even for the people who would soon learn her name and hate her.
Juliet lifted her chin. In the privacy of her own mind, she whispered, I will never tell you, cell or not. Out loud, she gave the officer a different kind of truth, whispering back as she met his glaring eyes, “I am entirely alone.”