Page 41 of The Wrong Side of the Law

“Yes, but then at the same time, he also called the copshimselfon one of his employees, when he found a package of cocaine.”

“That’s the sticky part. Still, though,” I say, and hold up a finger. “He has constant turnover in his crew and touring band. They’re not fired or anything, but he takes them on as a kind of paid internship. Helps them get a reputation that will boost their career, then they move on. That kind of turnover brings a constant flow of new mules. That’s point one.”

“Okay. I’m following you so far.”

A second finger follows the first.

“Point two. He gives these gifts to the folks in the band. That’s perfect. He can stash the drugs in the… the… amplifiers, the guitar cases, whatever else. Those things will stay near him for the rest of the tour, at a minimum. He’ll still have access.”

I stop for a breath, but as soon as I raise the third finger, Gabriel stops me.

“And, third point,” he says, “is that you’re not the first person to look at this. Banks tried, but he just couldn’t make it work. There was nothing for him to pry on. There was nothere, there.”

“Maybe we just haven’t found it yet?”

Gabriel shakes his head and sighs.

“Look. This is thin. It’sthinnerthan thin. It’s not even a piece of tissue paper. Emily, this is so flimsy that even the defense attorneys didn’t try and make it work.”

“Oh, please,” I say, beginning to get frustrated. “Those guys were public defenders. Legal aid. Do you really think any of them had the kind of time and resources to get all the same kind of information that we’ve got sitting here?”

“No. I don’t. Of course they didn’t. But Emily, this isn’t evidence. It’s just… for right now? It’s nothing. It’s anidea, but it’s not going to get a warrant. It’s not even enough to bring the guy in for questioning,” he says, kicking at his desk to spin the chair around, and kicking the wall to stop the spin when he’s facing out the window. “Come on. You’re smarter than this.”

I’d flip off the back of his head, but he’d probably see my reflection in the glass.

Gabriel stares out the window moodily, idly turning it back and forth with a foot on the wall. Infuriating man. He’s been… different, lately. Better, perhaps. But deep down, he’s still just that same jerk.

If only Frank’s life didn’t hang in the balance.

If only I didn’t have to worry about keeping a roof over our heads while keeping him out of prison.

If only Margaret hadn’t squandered everything.

If, if, if.

Ifanyof those were real, I’d be able to just give the guy a piece of my mind and walk out. I don’twantto be caught up in his crap. I don’twantto be a pawn in his grudge-match against the State Attorney. I don’twantto be sitting here right now, staring at a strong jaw, cheekbones that might have been chiseled out of marble, and shaggy blond hair off the cover of a magazine.

But I am. And,damn. If his career in law ever ends suddenly, Gabriel Cooper could easily go on to a solid gig as a model. That’s probably the one place that his self-centered arrogance would fit in just perfectly. That or Hollywood.

But he’s not always a dick. Some days he’s just the nicest, and that’s a problem for me. It’s as if there are two versions of him. The attentive and kind one, the sweet guy who’s brilliant and funny and also oh-by-the-way has shoulders of a blacksmith and the face of an angel? He’s the sort of guy I’d like to have in my life. But there’s the other side, too. The moody one, the guy who’s distant and prickly, and who can be just a complete and utter asshole.

Which one of them is therealGabriel Cooper? I so want it to be the nice guy, but I’m afraid that if I dig, I’ll find that’s just an act, a mask that he wears uncomfortably and only with effort, and that the jerk is the real man behind the curtain.

I wish there were a way to figure out whether I’d be seeing Doctor Jekyll or Mister Hyde on any given day, or that I knew a way to turn Hyde back into Jekyll when he shows up. As it is now, though? The only thing I can do is avoidance. Separate myself when Hyde is around. Leave.

I suppose lunch is as good an excuse as any. And after that, I’ll have some work to do in my cubicle.

“I’ll see you later, then,” I say. With any luck,laterwill turn out to be tomorrow, because I’ve had enough of this crap for today.

Gabriel, still staring out the window, grunts something I can’t make out.

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