Page 99 of The Wrong Side of the Law

“Look,” I sigh. “No comment. You really need to talk to our Human Resources department.”

The reporter looks amused at my deflection.

“You do know that names of state employees are public records, right?”

“Great,” I say. “You have your answer. Good day to you.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “What Ireallywant to know is how you can possibly have her working here when you’re prosecuting her brother.”

“Again, Cove: I have—wait for it—no comment.”

Cove chuckles, shaking his head, and the way his jowls shake only reinforces my bulldog impression. Hopefully he’s not as persistent as a bulldog, though.

“How did a man like you,” he asks, pointing a finger at me to sharpen the emphasis, “a man who lives and breathes the rules and the law, do such a fast one-eighty? That’s what I don’t understand. And I don’t like it when I don’t understand something.”

If I no-comment that one, he’s going to run that as a banner headline. Sure, it’ll make the SA’s office—and the SA himself—look bad, but I’m going to get blasted in the fallout as well. I’ll probably catch it even worse than Whitehall himself.

“Okay, fine,” I sigh, digging through a short stack of folders until I find the one I’m looking for. Pulling out a sheet of paper, I hold it up. “These are last year’s crime stats for the county.”

“I’m up on my current events, Gabriel.” Cove looks amused.

“Great. Let’s do some math.” I push over a pen and a blank sheet of paper, then a solar-powered calculator.

“Okay, I’ll play along,” he says.

“First number I want you to write down is one hundred and thirty-four. That’s how many murders we had in the county last year.” I pause, until the pen stop moving. “Then nine-seventy-five, forty-five fifty-one, and finally seventy-four twenty-six. Those are the counts for rape, robbery, and assault, respectively.”

“So a little over thirteen thousand, then.” He looks interested, curious to see where I’m going with this.

“Yes,” I say, nodding. “And that’s just the violent felonies. Doesn’t count drugs. Doesn’t count DUIs or anything else. Now, average household size in Florida is two-point-six-six people. Million and a half people in the county, and what you’re looking at is that, statistically, one household out of every forty-three or so has a member who commits a murder, a rape, a robbery, or an assault. Per year.”

“Fascinating,” Cove says. “And yet I don’t see any relevance.”

“The State Attorney’s office has just over three hundred employees in this district. Statistically, seven of them live in a household with someone who committed one of those crimes last year.”

“Well, don’t you think that it’s wrong to have people like that working here?”

“I know you’re aware of the First Amendment, Cove.” I sigh. This isn’t going as well as I’d hoped. The man’s just being difficult. “But are you aware that there’s a whole bunch of other ones, too? I can’t just punish someone for something a relative did. That’s illegal, and more to the point, it’s just plainwrong.”

He’s got an answer, and he’s got it on tape, and it’s not going to help him out at all. He can use that quote all he wants. Protecting the rights of the people of Florida plays well, especially come election season. For some reason, though, the reporter still has a twinkle in his eye. There’s still a trap, here, somewhere. I just don’t know what it is.

“Coming at this from a different angle,” he says, “your receptionist tells me that the two of you spend anawfullot of time in here, in the office, with your door closed. She tells me that there’s, well…soundscoming out of here.”

Oh.

Well of course he was going to go there. What could possibly be juicier than an improper sexual relationship between the head of the Narcotics Unit and the sister of the man he’s prosecuting? Very dangerous territory indeed.

“Sounds?” I chuckle. “What kind ofsoundsdoes she tell you she hears?”

“Well, she seems to think that Emily Wilson is… you know the old joke, right? All secretaries start off as temps? They only become permanent once you screw ‘em on the desk? Karin believes that Emily is becoming more and more permanent with every single day that passes.”

My blood boils hotter with every syllable the reporter says, and when he’s finished Cove just sits there smirking at me.

“You’re disgusting,” I snap.

“And you’re not denying anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair with a broad, lazy grin. “Just between you and me and that digital recorder, I think Karin’s just jealous.”

“Are youtryingto piss me off, Cove?” With difficulty, I choke back the sudden fury. “Do you think I’m going to slip up and give you a freebie if I get mad enough?”

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