Page 65 of The Wrong Side of the Law

“I’m… Look, I’m sorry, Mister Cove, but I really don’t- I mean, I can’t…”

“Of course, of course. I’ll put that down asdeclined to comment, then,” he says, shifting gears to a new approach. “But the reason that I’m asking is that I’m hearing some very interesting suggestions as to why they’re not pushing forward harder with this. I’m hearing that the State Attorney’s office doesn’t even believe that Francis is guilty. Anything you want to say to that?”

Cove pauses again, giving me space to answer. This time it’s shock that freezes my tongue, not wariness.

“Nothing?” he asks, after a space of several seconds. “Declined to commentfor that one, too, then. Okay, here’s another one. This is just sort of a theory that I’m putting together. I don’t have anything to confirm it, not yet, but everything fits.”

“I’m listening,” I say, my voice squeaking with nerves. Where the hell is he getting his rumors from? Who’s telling him this?

“So, your brother. No, he’s actually your half-brother, isn’t he? Whatever. He’s part of Robert Ferry’s touring band. And, well, there’s some history there. Some things that happen so often they almost look like traditions. There’s a major drug bust on every tour, and it’s young lad Francis Wilson that gets popped this time. Right in his home town, too.” The reportertsk-tskssadly. “Such a shame to see a nice young fellow like Francis get into that sort of thing, isn’t it? But anyway, stop me if I get something wrong here, okay?”

This time, Cove doesn’t even wait for me to not answer him.

“Now, since I hear that the SA’s office thinks Francis is innocent-”

“He prefers,” I interrupt, trying to gain some control over the one-sided conversation, “to be called Frank, now.”

“Frank, then,” he says, the smoker’s rasp at odds with the obsequiousness of his manner. “Since I hear that the SA’s office thinksFrankis innocent, well, I have to wonder about things. They caught him with abunchof Ecstasy. And since there’s been a major drug arrest on every single one of Ferry’s tours for the past, what, twenty years? Thirty? I gotta wonder if the State Attorney’s office is actually trying to go after Robert Ferry instead of your brother Francis. Sorry! Instead of your brotherFrank.”

Oh.Shit.

I take a deep breath, frantically trying to figure out the safest path to escape this trap.

“Mister Cove,” I say. “You realize that I work for the SA’s office, right?”

“Of course I do,” he says, with a lilt in his voice that suggests he’s smiling on the other end of the phone. “That’s just one of the many things about this case that makes itsounique, and I just- I mean, my readers will find it all so fascinating. And that’s beyond, of course, the public’s right to know what their employees are doing.”

The way his voice hardens at the very end is a warning. He’s not on my side. He’s not on anyone’s side but his own.

“Then you must also realize that I don’t know anything about my brother’s case, other than what he tells me. And even if I did have some inside information from work—which I don’t—I couldn’t share it with you,” I say, hoping that he doesn’t pick up on the lie. I know far more than I’m willing to tell him.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he says, but doesn’t pull on the string any more. He just teases me with it, making sure that I know it’s there and that he could tug at it at any time.

Why isn’t he pulling on it, though? Uncertainty? It must be. If he was completely sure of himself, he’d yank on that string in a heartbeat and watch as everything unraveled. But where is his information coming from? He’s figured out far too much already. Did Karin give him a look into our files at some point? Did she tell him something about investigating Ferry? No, of course not: she’d have told Whitehall first.

Who could it be? David Banks’ staff? Diego Lopez? Why would either of them come to a local newspaperhere, though? It makes no sense for either of them to be the source of Cove’s information.

“So, Miss Wilson,” Cove interrupts my panicked thoughts. “You’re denying involvement with this case? I mean, involvement at work. Obviously, you’re involved with your brother at home.”

“I absolutely deny it.” Let’s make it as definite as possible. “I am not in any way involved with Frank’s case at work.”

“You don’t know anything about it? Anything at all that might help me to show your brother in the best light?”

Something about his questions is tickling at the back of my brain. What am I missing here? What kind of a trap is he leading me into?

“I’m sorry,” I answer. “But no, everything I know about Frank’s case comes from him.”

“Hm. Well, this seems to have been quite the dead end, then. I wonder why my source would have pointed me at you?” Cove muses, and I can hear his fingers drumming on his desk.

“I couldn’t even begin to guess,” I say. It feels like I’m recovering my footing now, at least a little bit. “Look, Mister Cove, I’m at work right now and I really need to get back to what I was doing. If I think of anything that I want to tell you, I’ll call you back.”

“Sure, sure. No problem. The number on your caller ID, that’s the news room, and just ask them to put you through to me,” he says. “Oh, one last question, though?”

“Fine,” I say, my voice tight. “What is it?”

“I just looked at my notes again, refreshed my memory. The other source told me that Francis wasin the middle of something big, and that there wassome kind of conspiracyhere. You know anything about this?”

The bottom drops out of my stomach when I realize there’s only one person it could be: Margaret. Other source, my ass.

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