Page 106 of The Wrong Side of the Law

“You got the number from the folder, didn’t you?”

I flinch away from his accusation as much as I would if he’d slapped me.

“Yes,” I admit, swallowing hard and wiping at a wet cheek with the back of my hand.

“And the idea, that was from the picture. I was right there. And I saw it.” He’s speaking out loud, but I don’t think he’s talking to me anymore.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel. I thought… I was protecting Frank. And in a way it was- it would help you, too.”

“Help me? Helpme?” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You still haven’t told me what you did.”

“Aspirin,” I say quietly. “Real ones. I dumped a bottle of them in there.”

“And you thought… what?” he asks, incredulous. “What do you think is going to come of this?”

“I think Anderson’s going to get an independent lab test,” I say, my voice soft but finally steady. “I think that when the lab expert goes on the stand and describes a mix of aspirin and MDMA, and that the pill counts and weights don’t match what the police recorded, that it will force a mistrial. Or create reasonable doubt. Either way, my brother doesn’t go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. And you don’t have to live with it on your conscience.”

“Why couldn’t you justtrustme, Emily?” The shadows that might have been loathing fade from Gabriel’s eyes, and all that’s left is sadness. “I would have figured out something. Somehow. I… Iwouldhave.”

I don’t know what to say. I sniffle quietly in my chair, feeling small and alone.

“But now? I’m going to have something even worse on my conscience, Emily. What do you think is going to happen when Anderson brings up the drugs at trial and the evidence is all kinds of fucked up?”

“Frank goes free,” I say. “And that’s all that mattered to me.”

“And then there’s an investigation into how the evidence got that way. Every single person in the chain of custody goes under the microscope, and every single finger is going to point straight at you. And your fingerprints are going to be all over it. Literally, probably,” he sighs.

“But my brother will be free.”

“He’ll be free, butyouwon’t be!” Anguish pours from him with every plaintive word. “Emily, evidence tampering is a felony! Thiswillcome back on you. And you will be hammered for it. Five. Years. In prison.”

“It’s better that I spend five years for something Ididdo,” I say, holding my head up defiantly, “than that my brother goes to prison forfifteen, for something that youknowhe didn’t do.”

“I would have found something to help him, Emily.” Gabriel’s eyes are red, shining with his own unshed tears, and he looks away. “But I’m not going to be able to helpyou. Andthat’swhat I’m going to have to live with.”

“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” I say, starting to choke up. I’ve been fighting so hard to keep from really crying, but I can’t hold it off any longer. “I- I love you, so- so much, a-and I’m s-so s-orry,” I sob.

“Are you?” he asks. His voice has grown hard again, and when he scrubs the wetness away from his own face he’s angry again. “Do you? Did you ever?”

I’m crying so hard that I can barely breath; I certainly can’t answer right now.

“I trusted you,” he says, disgusted, but I can’t tell if it’s with me or with himself. Or both of us. “I believed you, Emily. Ibelievedyou.”

Right now, I hate myself enough for both of us. I never meant for this to hurt him so badly—neverexpectedit to—or that it would hurtmeso much, when it finally came out.

“You warned me, too,” he sighs. “You flat outtoldme that your stepmother had been after you to manage me. You even told mehowshe wanted you to get control of me. And stupid me. I fell for it.”

He’s just twisting the knife, at this point. He’s trying to hurt me as much as he can, while he still can. And I can’t even blame him for it.

“Well, you warned me, too,” I say, finally getting some control. I shouldn’t lash out right now, I don’t deserve to be angry with him, but I am, and I do. “You told me you’d choose your career over me. And I believedyou. And that’s why I did it. Because you told me you’d choose your job over anything else, and my brother is part of that anything else.”

“Is that what you thought I meant?” The anger drains away from his face again, tears well up once more in his eyes. “Emily, my job isjustice. My job is setting thingsright. My job is to avenge those who have been wronged. When I chooseworkit’s not that I’m rejecting someone else, it’s that… it’s- it’s the right thing. It’s part of what holds society together. People need this job done, and they needmedoing it. Because I’mgoodat it.”

“Yeah, well, you sure choserightthis time,” I snap. I feel a vicious satisfaction that I managed to wound him, and I hate myself for it. “Make sure you tell yourself that every time you look in the mirror.”

“Emily,” Gabriel says, so quietly that I can barely hear him. “Barbara’s waiting outside that door right now. Not the police. Do you know why?”

“So? Bring her in,” I say, standing and collecting the very few personal items at my desk. A fresh flood of tears arrives at the realization that there was so little there that it could all fit inside my purse. “Let’s get this over with. And no, I don’t know why. And I don’t care why, either.”

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