Page 19 of The Devil's Price

"Siobhan, please. We both want the truth." I walk over to her and try to stand close, but she backs against the wall. "The other night, you said we could do this, just to keep it quiet. That no one could find out about us."

"Get out," she repeats, but this time even more slurred. I don't know if she even knows what she's doing.

"Fine, but I'm sending someone to watch your apartment." I brush a bit of moisture off her lip from our kissing and she blinks her eyes slowly. She can't even stand straight. Her tits are so perfect, I don't want to leave her exposed like this, so I step intothe hallway, taking my lumps, and shoot a message to my right-hand man, Noah, to sit on the building as I walk toward the elevator.

I have to go find Sarah Duncan now, because she may be the only way to stop Siobhan from sentencing Mick to exile. I very well may have just ended any hope I had with Siobhan.

13

SIOBHAN

It's a hot one today. Liam's light blue dress shirt has sweat rings under the armpits, not bad ones, but enough to draw the sympathy of jurors who all sit fanning themselves. The windows are open, air conditioning already shut off for the summer, but even Judge Callahan has beads of sweat on his forehead as I pace in front of the witness box.

"Detective Kearney, can you please explain what you found in the home on Portsmouth Road?" Liam's testimony is hitting hard already. The Garda uncovered so many clues, namely very important evidence to show a murder had taken place, but it was Liam who brought me the damning footprint and the gun. Most recently, he offered a single droplet of DNA from a square of carpet cut up next to the victim, missed in the original search and brushed off as the victim's blood.

"Well," he starts, loosening his tie as he wipes a tissue across his forehead, "I went to the home on the evening of August fourth as I wrote in my sworn statement. I had a hunch that we missed something big, so I went back. It's when I found the footprint logged in evidence, made by the boot of the defendant.We checked the dirt sample from the footprint that matches the defendant's boots taken from him at booking, and it is a one hundred percent match to the mud collected from the O’Connor farm."

The jury is entranced today, eating out of my hand, and I know they're itching for more juicy tidbits. After the failures I've had with witnesses, today is my chance to shine. I know Solicitor Quinn's scheme, to try to discount my proof, but how can he stand against a detective Garda in uniform?

"So the boots you took from the defendant have mud on them that match the mud at his home, and the mud on the carpet at the scene of the crime?" I ask, and Liam nods.

"Yes, that's right."

"And the square of carpet you cut from the home, which has the defendant’s blood on it?" I say as in a question, but there's no need to follow that up, really. Still, Liam gives more of an explanation.

"Yes, well, I had a feeling about it. It was farther away from the other blood pattern, didn’t seem to come from the same angle of trajectory. I cut it out to have the lab test it, and we struck gold." Liam reaches for a glass of ice water resting on the bench in front of him and sips from it while I walk back to my spot behind my table to sit down.

"No further questions, Your Honor." I nod at him as I sit, and he turns to Mr. Quinn, who's already on his feet.

"Detective Garda Kearney, do you mind telling me who ordered you to return to the house on the day of August fourth to look through the house again?" Quinn buttons his coat and slicks his tie down. His balding head shines with perspiration as hewaddles toward Liam. It's comical, but no one laughs, one of those unwritten rules of Callahan's courtroom everyone's afraid to break.

"Well, sir, no one told me. I knew Ms. Gallagher needed to really seal this case up and with the trial coming so quickly, I figured another look wouldn’t hurt." Liam sets the glass back on the bench and folds his hands in his lap as he relaxes back into his seat. He looks practiced.

"And this is how many murder trials you've been a part of?" Quinn asks, narrowing his eyes. The jurors look from the solicitor to Liam, who is casual and cool as a cucumber.

"Fourteen murder cases in my career, sir." Liam is smug now, too confident, but for good reason. He's good at his job.

"And in those fourteen cases, how many times have you entered a murder scene after the court has reached deposition phase?" Quinn is a dog with a bone. I don't know what he's getting at, but I don't like it. I'm uneasy, and I see Judge Callahan appearing annoyed with the line of questioning.

"Only once other than this time, sir, at the direction of my chief." The courtroom just got a thousand degrees hotter as Liam glances at me. He also wonders what Quinn is up to, which only makes my anxious belly feel tighter.

"And who was with you in that home on the day of August fourth when you re-entered the scene of the crime?" Quinn stands staring at the jurors, not Liam, waiting for the response.

"I was alone, Mr. Quinn." Liam's tone is cold now, and I'm starting to get the picture.

"So is it conceivable that a detective Garda like yourself could enter a murder scene, mysteriously find evidence overlooked by dozens of Garda and crime scene scientists, days after the scene has been processed?" Quinn's question is rhetorical. He's making a point, accusing Liam of planting the evidence.

"What is your insinuation?" Liam asks, and the judge clears his throat. Witnesses aren't supposed to ask questions. Only representation and prosecution can do that.

"Is it conceivable that you could find evidence after everyone else has combed the scene, Detective Garda Kearney?" Quinn turns to look him in the eye, and Liam narrows his eyes at the solicitor.

"Apparently it is, since it happened."

"And is it possible that the evidence wasn't found by investigators because it wasn't there at the time to be found? That perhaps you planted it?" Quinn is pushing, and the courtroom erupts. Jurors talk in hushed tones. Viewers rustle around, and Judge Callahan slams his gavel down just as I rise to object. But Quinn beats me to it. "No further questions, Your Honor."

I'm frustrated, but I'm not going to let that get me down today. I'm on a roll and I know my secret weapon is here to take the stand. I look over my shoulder at her pale face, soft sandy blonde hair pulled back. She's nervous and well should be. We've had a security detail on her for weeks now making sure Mick's men don't go after her.

"Your Honor, I would like to call Sarah Duncan to the stand, please." I hold her gaze as she stands, handing her purse to the man seated next to her. She swallows hard as she weaves pastthe row of people into the aisle and up toward the swinging half door that separates us. I nod at her and open it, and she walks to the stand and lets the official swear her in.

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