Grey shifted in her seat.
Scout’s now-famous blue eyes, splashed everywhere from campus walls to newspaper pages, were earnest. “Emmy more or less confessed to working with someone to frame me for the murders. It’s a long story, which we’ll tell you in detail if you agree to this deal, but we have solid reasons to suspect that the person Emmy was working with is Luca Clearwater. And we also have solid reasons to suspect that Luca convinced Juliet to bomb the Knox tower. Juliet had fallen under her sway.”
“Here’s proof of them together, talking about the protest,” Cybele added, sliding a thumb drive across the table. “Luca attended a movie premiere as Juliet’s plus-one. I can give you the name of the photographer who took this video of them.”
“But before we tell you,” Scout said, “we need you to agree in writing that you’ll release Juliet.” Scout’s lawyer pushed a sheaf of papers in Grey’s direction. “She’s eighteen,” Scout said softly. “She’s just a kid, Grey. She deserves to be saved.”
All of a sudden, Grey felt exhausted. She’d been prepared for Scout to be defensive, insulting, pull a tantrum, but this magnanimous attitude from her lead suspect, this calm laying-down of facts… Grey shook her head. “I can’t—”
Scout cut her off. “There’s one more thing we can offer you.” She slipped a manila folder from under her attorney’s stack of papers. “We have new information about a twelve-year-old cold case. Two women who disappeared after their shift at the Serpent Room. We discovered photographs taken on their last night of work.”
Time stopped. Grey stared at the folder. The only sound was her heart beating. “That’s not possible.” She cleared the gravel from her throat. “The Serpent Room didn’t install security cameras until eight years ago. The previous owner was a real estate magnate from Dubai who kept things as analog as possible. We suspect he was using the place to launder money.” Those last details were neither here nor there. Grey had no idea why she’d said them, other than she couldn’t stop staring at the folder.
Whoever Alice’s last table had been, they’d paid in cash, leaving no credit card receipt. A bottle girl who’d worked that night had recalled that they were a group of heavy rollers, all men. But that was it—that, plus what she’d been able to squeeze from the dregs of Nico’s memory.
“Miraculously, in one of those twists of fate, it turns out there was a private investigator at the club that night, snapping photos.” Scout studied Grey with her canny eyes. “He said one of the missing women had the last name of Holloway.”
She didn’t phrase it as a question—she left it as bait. A lump formed in Grey’s throat. Her voice was ragged when she spoke. “Show me the pictures.”
Scout shook her head. “Give us Juliet.”
Grey wanted to scream. Years of grief and fury warred inside her. “Please,” she gritted out, flattening her hands against the conference table. She was no longer Detective Holloway—she was Grey, Alice’s little sister, begging for a glimpse of the woman she’d been searching for her entire adult life. “Show me.”
Scout looked at her for a long time, like she could see inside Grey’s heart and was taking measure of it.
“Don’t,” Cybele warned, but it was too late. To Grey’s shock, Scout opened the folder and slipped out a picture, setting it in front of her.
“Shit,” Isabel groaned. “Our leverage.”
But Grey didn’t hear what anyone said next. There, right in front of her, was Alice. Blond, too thin, wearing glitter on her face. In that ridiculous Serpent Room uniform Grey knew so well, the one she put on every weekend. Even though Alice was smiling in the photograph, the stiff way she held herself told Grey, who knew her, that she was uncomfortable.
And sitting across from her were three men Grey would know anywhere, even though the versions in the photo were years younger. Reese Griffin, Easton Banks, and Gabriel Knox. Three men whose names were everywhere she looked lately.
“Alice,” she whispered, touching her sister in the photo. “Alice, what did you do?”
“So you know her?” Isabel asked.
Grey forced her eyes from the photo. “She’s my sister.”
“Who’s the other girl?” Cybele pointed to the petite brunette, wearing a uniform that matched Alice’s.
“I only know her as Daisy Chapman.” Grey sighed. “She put fake details on her application, and they never did a background check. She could’ve been anyone.”
“Daisy,” Isabel murmured. “Small as a flower.”
Scout looked at Grey. “I have more photographs, and the name of the private investigator. I’ll give you everything if you just let Juliet go. Come on, Detective. I know your heart is with us. Stand on the right side of the fence.”
The strangest guilt washed through Grey. Was Scout right? Was her heart actually with her bombing suspect? She met the woman’s eyes. “Why are you doing all of this for Juliet Snodgrass?”
Scout didn’t even blink. “Because she has no sisters.”
Grey put her fingers on the photo of Alice, worried Scout might take it away. “I’m sorry,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I want your evidence on Luca, I really do. If you give it to me, I’ll take it seriously. But the bombing is a huge national case involving multiple agencies. It’s a massive story. Putting aside the fact that I genuinely believe your friend Juliet is guilty—”
Across the table, Isabel flinched.
“The public has seen the footage of a tall, black-clad bomber entering the building.” Grey pointed to the window. From it, they could see city hall. “And the bomb went off at the same time Luca was on stage, in full view of thousands. She has an airtight alibi. There’s no way you’ll convince a jury she’s the one who set it off. Not to mention we’ve got Knox’s presidential campaign breathing down our necks, pressuring us to bring swift charges. I’m sorry, but your friend is going to have to pay for the part she played. Someone has to.”
Silence sat heavy in the room.
