Page 127 of The Wrong Side of the Law

“Bah.” Frank dismisses my worry with a wave of his hand. “Seriously, what’s he going to do? This is a music festival. There’s thousands of people around, and there’s going to be security everywhere. And even if there wasn’t, you’re going to be watching everything from just a couple hundred yards away.”

“I know, I know.” I turn to Brian. “This has enough range, right? We’re not, what’s the expression? Hanging him out to die?”

“Dry, Emily.Dry,” the biker-cum-investigator laughs. “And no, we’re not hanging him out to dry. Or die, for that matter. It’s got a range of a mile, easy.”

“Okay.” I know that Frank is going to be safe, but I still don’t like it. “Be careful, okay? Just please be careful.”

“I will, sis.”

The box truck rocks again when Frank opens a door and steps out, and a rush of warm, muggy air bursts in to replace him, heavy with the smell of fried dough, barbecue, seafood, and all the traditional staples of midway food at every fair and festival throughout the deep south. My nose drifts to follow the scent, and my stomach grumbles that it’s been too long since breakfast.

“Later,” Brian growls. “We’ll have time for that after the mission’s accomplished.”

“I didn’t say anything!” I protest with a giggle, but then the nerves take over again. “I know he’s not in any real danger, but I’m still worried. I mean, taking the tape off him is going to be more painful than anything else that could happen.”

“Nah.” Brian chuckles. “It’s medical tape. It doesn’t stick to hair. I was just messing with him about that.” The investigator points at the screen with his chin. “Okay, things are getting interesting.”

Frank is approaching the side entrance to the main stage, where Ferry is going to be playing in another hour. He holds out the all-access badge for which we’d paid far too much money, and a pair of bored security guards wave him through.

“Everybody looks so tall.” I’m five-foot-nine, so I’m used to my eyes being about sixty-four inches off the ground, but the tiny camera is in the middle of my brother’s chest, and that throws off my perspective just as badly as if I’d suddenly lost almost a foot of my height. “It feels like I’m walking around on my knees or something. Is this what it’s like to be short?”

“Couldn’t say. Not a problem I face.”

Frank climbs a short flight of stairs up to the level of the stage and passes through a door, dodging roadies and event staff tearing down the stage from the previous act and getting things set for Ferry’s performance.

“Hey!” The voice sounds weird through the speakers. “Hey, Francis Wilson? Is that you?”

“Bill! Hey, man! Long time no see!” Frank must have only turned his head, because we can’t see who he’s talking to.

“Holy shit, it is you!”

The screen goes black, and for a few seconds there’s a horrific noise of… it’s not feedback, but a scratchy clicking sound with booming thunder underneath. I gasp, but Brian only laughs.

“What’s so funny?” I demand.

Brian doesn’t answer, but when I look back at the screen I get a nice close-up view of a sweaty tee shirt, then eventually when the two back far enough apart I can see the rest of a very large man with a wide smile. Oh. It was just a bear hug.

“The man around?” Frank asks.

“Oh. Um. He is, yeah,” Bill answers, his face suddenly becoming guarded. “I dunno if it’s a good idea for you to see him, though. You’re not gonna do something stupid, are ya?”

“C’mon, man, you know me better than that. I’m a lover not a fighter!” The camera view shakes with Frank’s laughter. “Besides, they got metal detectors at the gate.”

“Yeah, true. Hell of a world we live in, ain’t it? Buncha people just want to go see some bands play, gotta go through a metal detector to get there.” Bill shakes his head at the state of humanity, then shrugs. “Yeah, he’s in his dressing room. Just down the hall there, first door on the right. You can’t miss it.”

“All right, man! Thanks, Bill. I appreciate it!”

A moment later there’s another chance meeting, another bear hug, and another view of a chest in the button-cam after the hug-blackout ends. This one, however, has far more cleavage on display.

“Hey, Cindy,” Frank says after the young bleach-blonde lets go of him. “Lookin’ good!”

The girl blushes and simpers at him. I can just imagine the kind of rakish smile he’s giving her.

“What’re you doing here, honey?” she asks. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!”

“Yeah, it was pretty close there for a minute or two.” Frank laughs it off, but there’s a harsh edge to the humor.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks. “And why would you say all those horrible things about Robert?”

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