“I’m hot.”
“Okay.” She shuffled from one foot to the other and looked at the empty pathway to the courthouse.
“Look at me,” I said, removing my helmet. My hair was flattened to my head, my brow damp. “Do you recognise me?”
She frowned. “No.”
“Were you here the other day? When the protestors stormed the lobby?”
She nodded. “Yes, but so what?”
“I was here too.”
“I’m going in there, to blow up that bastard and the cunt attorneys who are defending him.”
“And kill yourself in the process?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“How about negotiation, allowing justice to take its course, using your voice instead of violence.”
“My voice isn’t heard. I’m a woman, or hadn’t you noticed?”
“Of course, and I’m a woman too.” I paused. “Do you think I’m not furious at what Walter Riley has done?”
She shrugged.
I winced as the explosives jostled. “Keep still.”
“Why?”
“Because…you don’t want to go up.”
“I’m prepared to die.”
“I’m not prepared for you to die…tell me your name.”
She paused, then, “Julie.”
“Julie, I’m Freya. And if you saw the news the other day you would have seen me in there.” I nodded at the courthouse. “Promising that I would do everything in my power to see Walter Riley get his just dues.”
“That’s okay for you to say.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at you. You’re a SWAT officer.”
“Only because I worked hard to get here. What do you do?”
“I work at the women’s refuge.”
“Jeez, you must see some sights.”
“Yes, and all delivered by men.”
Damn, she really hates men.
“You got a dad?” I asked.