Page 66 of The Wrong Side of the Law

How could I have been so goddamn stupid? I knew I couldn’t trust her, and I slipped up anyway.

“No, Mister Cove,” I say. “I don’t know anything about any conspiracy. And now if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get back to work.”

“Yes, okay. Well, thanks for your time, Miss Wilson,” he says. “And do please be sure to call me if-”

My thumb hits the red button to hang up, and I don’t hear the rest of it.

The final drips of coffee splash into the pot, and my hands shake as I pour two cups of it.

Why, why,whydid Margaret talk to that man? Was she trying to pressure the SA’s office? She’s not educated, and she’s not brilliant… but she is shrewd. She’s good at manipulating people and generating buzz. That’s how she managed to get Frank into the spotlight on stage even though he’d only started playing guitar just a few years ago.

My hands full of coffee and sugar packets, I walk slowly back toward Gabriel’s office, imagining at least fifty different ways to kill my stepmother.

Should I tell Gabriel about this?

Maybe I don’t need to. Maybe he’s already gotten that same call. But maybe he didn’t.

I don’t think I need to say anything, actually. If I’m asked I won’t lie about it, but I didn’t tell the reporter anything.

In a perfect world, this will go nowhere. It’s just a desperate woman telling stories. The mother of the accused, grabbing at any possible lifeline to save her son. Nobody would blame her for trying to create reasonable doubt for her baby.

I’m okay on this. I think. I hope.

But what if I’m not?

I make it back to the office without spilling anything and set one of the steaming cups on my desk and the other in front of Gabriel.

With a little bit of luck, Paul Cove will decide Margaret’s tip is so far-fetched that he won’t even write about it in his column.

The problem, though, is that these days I’m running short on luck.

I can’t risk it. I just can’t.

“Gabriel, I just got a phone call…”

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