Page 1 of The Devil's Price

1

SIOBHAN

"Ms. Gallagher, get to the point." I stare into the bloodshot eyes of Mr. Patrick Quinn, counsel for the defense. His posture over the long, narrow deposition table is menacing, intimidating. He steeples his fingers on either side of his case files, the recorder between us flashing a red light indicating it's capturing everything. The recordings—along with copies of all files and evidence—will be shared after this meeting, and I can't wait to get away from him.

"Mr. Quinn, I assure you there's no need to be fussy. Have a whinge on your own time and don't consume the court's time with it." Judge Brendan Callahan nods at me as I swallow hard. The warmth in his eyes when he looks at me is no mistake. He's been my mentor now for a few years as I finished my law degree and obtained this position as DPP. "Deputy Public Prosecutor Gallagher, you may continue."

My eyes flick over the files in front of me, evidence for the first public murder trial I've ever tried on my own as a prosecutor. Mick O'Connor, former head of his own organization and now allied to one of the most infamous criminal syndicates in thecountry—the O'Rourkes—sits across the table from me next to his lawyer accused of aggravated murder. It's my job to prove he's done it, and all the evidence I have here is lining up to do just that.

"Your Honor, the prosecution seeks to prove Mr. O'Connor is guilty of aggravated murder based on the set of evidence in our discovery file. We will show he falsified his alibi, stole a registered weapon, planned to hunt the victim, Aiden Hughes, down, and finally, on the night of April 20th around the time of eleven thirty at night, shot the victim in cold blood." My heart is pounding so hard I feel it pulsing in my neck.

I know what I'm up against and who I'm fighting. The men who sit across from me are thieving, lying sacks of shit, just like the ones who killed my cousin Trevor. They'll do nasty, downright evil things to get what they want and protect their own. I'm not naive to the danger I'm putting myself in by taking on this case, but how can I turn a blind eye? This man deserves to go to prison, even if the victim was another man just like him. He was caught red-handed.

"Very well, Ms. Gallagher, you may rest." Judge Callahan, as I've trained myself to always refer to him despite our friendship, nods at me, and I let my trembling knees finally rest. Slowly lowering myself back to the squeaking leather armchair, I fidget with the hem of my suit jacket.

Mick O'Connor stares at me with dark, forlorn eyes. If I look at him too long, I'm tempted to believe his claims of innocence. I've only spoken to him once, taking the interviews local Garda officials sent me as they came, but he seems like a genuine man. Still, evidence doesn't lie. It's empirical, like gravity and inertia—proven, undoubtable.

"Mr. Quinn, do you have anything to add?" The judge turns his gaze toward the defendant and his lawyer, and I prepare myself for more hostility, more vitriol. They're monsters and heathens, looking for any way to weasel into the light and bring their lies with them, hoping we're foolish enough to believe what they say at face value.

Quinn still stands over the table, but he straightens and stuffs his tie back into the front of his bulky suit jacket. His rotund abdomen protrudes, causing the buttons to strain across the front. He's got beady eyes, dark with sin, and a balding head which he roughly combs whisps of hair over in an attempt to vainly hold on to some semblance of youth or virility. I'm sickened by his posture, so cocky and arrogant.

"Your Honor, with all due respect, this is a waste of the court's time. We have a solid alibi and the word of a dozen men that Mr. O'Connor was at the family pub the night of the murder for hours before and after. Witnesses place him there the entire time." The lawyer glances at me with an angry glare. "The prosecution is off base. We're wasting your time and ours and keeping an upstanding member of this community away from his loving wife and children. He's just become a grandfather too."

"As if being a grandfather precludes him from the ability to murder," I say, shooting out of my chair.

"Objection, your honor," Quinn snips, and I glare at him.

"You're talking about one of the most notorious crime bosses in history sitting next to you. If he's not guilty of this crime, he's guilty of a thousand others. I will prove?—"

The gavel cracks loudly on the sounding block, and I jolt. I don't like angering Judge Callahan, but I'm having a hard time controlling my temper—and my fear. It seems to be coming out as a nasty lash of angry words, but my insides are trembling.

"Ms. Gallagher, allow Mr. Quinn the respect to speak his terms, please." I look at him and nod.

"Apologies, Your Honor." I sit back down, gripping both arms of the chair to keep myself anchored in place as I'm forced to listen to the tart continue.

"Mr. Quinn," the judge says.

"As I was saying, Your Honor, Mr. O'Connor is innocent. I request remand of custody to myself. His entire family lives here. He’s not a flight risk. And I honestly request a dismissal of all charges. He's an innocent man." Quinn will never get his request, and my smirk only makes him angrier, but he's spoken his piece and the judge will decide now.

We all turn our attention to the judge's bench while Mr. Quinn takes his seat. Judge Callahan is a fair man. I've known him for many years, even before he became my mentor in this business. He's seen the evidence and we've spoken directly about it. I know he won't let Mick walk.

"Considering all the testimony we've heard today, Mr. Quinn, I'm inclined to side with the prosecution on this. Mr. O'Connor is hereby remanded to the custody of the governor of prisons at Cloverhill. He will remain in remand as the trial proceeds." After removing his glasses, the judge continues. "Barristers, I will expect both of you to be on your best behavior. No more outbursts like that. This is a courtroom, not a boxing ring." Heeyes me specifically, and I wince internally. "Proceeding is set for one week from today, eight a.m."

His gavel releases us from deposition and I sigh. I still feel their eyes boring into me, but the pressure is off for now. I have a week to prepare witnesses and my opening and closing arguments, and I have a month’s worth of paperwork to catch up on.

I begin collecting all my papers, stuffing them in my briefcase as Mr. Quinn and his posse usher Mr. O'Connor out of the deposition room. The judge stays at his bench while I finish packing up, but as I pick up my case, prepared to leave, he clears his throat. I know I’m about to get a lecture for my outburst, but I feel justified. That man is obtuse. Still, I turn slowly to meet his gaze.

"Siobhan, do you know what you're getting yourself into?" Brendan's eyes search me with concern. The age and wisdom he holds speak to me without words. As a family friend, a personal friend, I can see he's worried.

"I don't know," I breathe out with a sigh. "It's just… Trevor, and… I couldn't turn it away." I shrug a shoulder as I answer. When the case came across my desk, I snatched it up. The chance to put a few of these sick bastards away was the entire reason I got into law. I want to take down the entire criminal underworld, even if I have to do it one case at a time.

"Your father would be so proud of you." He smiles but his eyes are sad. "You should hire a security team, though. These men are maniacs. No telling what they'll do if you cross them. I heard Ronan O'Rourke runs a very dodgy crew, shot up the entire docks last year. So many men were killed and not a trace of evidence to pin it on them. It's how they work, you know?"

I shudder to think about Mick's allies getting involved in this. His family has been on a decline for a while, but everyone's heard of his alignment with the O'Rourkes via an arranged marriage.

"Thank you for your concern, Judge Callahan. If I feel concerned, I'll speak with Detective Kearney." I smile but inside, I'm feeling nauseous. He's right. They're scary, but I can't appear scared or they'll eat me alive.

"Alright, well go on. Have a good afternoon, then." He dismisses me, but I'd feel safer staying here. I know at any turn, these animals might strike. I just don't think I'll be prepared.

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