indeterminate age, he bristled as he sat down in his chair, as if he didn’t want to be there, either.
Vince Perry began to speak on the merits of his motion for dismissal while the judge listened. Next the state’s attorney argued her point. As she did, Gabriella noticed a group of men in the back. Wearing suits, they could have been anything from attorneys with time to kill to reporters looking for the next big story. Unlike her, they seemed supremely interested in what was going on. In fact, several times the judge gave them a stern look when their whispers got a little too loud.
Maybe they were some kind of court groupies. If so, Gabriella figured they needed to get a life.
Finally, the bailiff called Shane to the witness stand. After being sworn in, he gave his testimony. Looking as if he’d recited the story a million times, he was confident. Everyone in the courtroom seemed unnaturally focused on what Shane was saying, especially the men in back, who remained eerily quiet as if intent on his every word.
Gabriella still felt rattled by the gunshot incident and was trying to discharge her anxiety by playing one of her favorite games: She was giving males and females alike a makeover. Ninety percent of the people in the room sorely needed it.
For instance, the guy with the bad glasses and the poorly fitting suit, she re-outfitted in a nice Armani suit, got him a good haircut, and exchanged his out-of-style glasses frames for a pair of small, squarish wire-rimmed ones. He looked downright presentable when she mentally finished with him.
She was just about to give the state’s attorney a head-to-toe makeover when the judge stood. “I’ll review the testimony and the motions submitted and give you a decision within twenty-four hours.”
Shane talked to Vince Perry for a few minutes while guards escorted Tony away. When they moved towards her, one of the court groupies walked up to Shane and shoved him in the chest.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, O’Neil? You trying to get a cop killer off?” The guy’s voice echoed in the small courtroom.
Cop killer? She should have paid much more attention during the testimony. She couldn’t help wondering if Shane’s car being used for target practice had anything to do with this court appearance.
She glanced around to see if the bailiffs were going to do anything, but it didn’t look like they were. They might interfere if it came to blows, but for right now they seemed content to watch.
Shane folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not doing anything except offering testimony. It’s not my fault your whole case stinks. The kid’s getting railroaded. You and everybody else in this courtroom knows it. There’s nothing but circumstantial evidence to tie him to the crime.”
The man bounced on the balls of his feet. He looked as if he might be contemplating taking Shane on in a fist fight, which no doubt would be a really bad idea on his part.
“No.” The man pointed a shaky finger at both Shane and Vince. “You two want to get a cop killer off.”
Vince spoke up at that point, grabbing Shane by the bicep. “We want justice served.” Without another word, he steered Shane toward her, and the three of them headed toward the elevator.
“What was that all about? And do you think those guys had anything to do with the window of your car getting blown out?” Her earlier bout of nerves resurfaced as they rode down in the elevator and she made all sorts of villainous and paranoid connections in her head.
Vince stopped Shane with a grab to his forearm. “What’s this about your car getting shot at?”
Shane shook his head. “It’s nothing. Wrong place, wrong time. Random gunfire on the South Side. That kind of stuff happens all the time there.” Shane seemed agitated, but for once it didn’t seem directed at her. They’d somehow had a special moment in the car when he held onto her hand. “Besides, O’Brien’s a prick, a big talker in
Vince Perry began to speak on the merits of his motion for dismissal while the judge listened. Next the state’s attorney argued her point. As she did, Gabriella noticed a group of men in the back. Wearing suits, they could have been anything from attorneys with time to kill to reporters looking for the next big story. Unlike her, they seemed supremely interested in what was going on. In fact, several times the judge gave them a stern look when their whispers got a little too loud.
Maybe they were some kind of court groupies. If so, Gabriella figured they needed to get a life.
Finally, the bailiff called Shane to the witness stand. After being sworn in, he gave his testimony. Looking as if he’d recited the story a million times, he was confident. Everyone in the courtroom seemed unnaturally focused on what Shane was saying, especially the men in back, who remained eerily quiet as if intent on his every word.
Gabriella still felt rattled by the gunshot incident and was trying to discharge her anxiety by playing one of her favorite games: She was giving males and females alike a makeover. Ninety percent of the people in the room sorely needed it.
For instance, the guy with the bad glasses and the poorly fitting suit, she re-outfitted in a nice Armani suit, got him a good haircut, and exchanged his out-of-style glasses frames for a pair of small, squarish wire-rimmed ones. He looked downright presentable when she mentally finished with him.
She was just about to give the state’s attorney a head-to-toe makeover when the judge stood. “I’ll review the testimony and the motions submitted and give you a decision within twenty-four hours.”
Shane talked to Vince Perry for a few minutes while guards escorted Tony away. When they moved towards her, one of the court groupies walked up to Shane and shoved him in the chest.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, O’Neil? You trying to get a cop killer off?” The guy’s voice echoed in the small courtroom.
Cop killer? She should have paid much more attention during the testimony. She couldn’t help wondering if Shane’s car being used for target practice had anything to do with this court appearance.
She glanced around to see if the bailiffs were going to do anything, but it didn’t look like they were. They might interfere if it came to blows, but for right now they seemed content to watch.
Shane folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not doing anything except offering testimony. It’s not my fault your whole case stinks. The kid’s getting railroaded. You and everybody else in this courtroom knows it. There’s nothing but circumstantial evidence to tie him to the crime.”
The man bounced on the balls of his feet. He looked as if he might be contemplating taking Shane on in a fist fight, which no doubt would be a really bad idea on his part.
“No.” The man pointed a shaky finger at both Shane and Vince. “You two want to get a cop killer off.”
Vince spoke up at that point, grabbing Shane by the bicep. “We want justice served.” Without another word, he steered Shane toward her, and the three of them headed toward the elevator.
“What was that all about? And do you think those guys had anything to do with the window of your car getting blown out?” Her earlier bout of nerves resurfaced as they rode down in the elevator and she made all sorts of villainous and paranoid connections in her head.
Vince stopped Shane with a grab to his forearm. “What’s this about your car getting shot at?”
Shane shook his head. “It’s nothing. Wrong place, wrong time. Random gunfire on the South Side. That kind of stuff happens all the time there.” Shane seemed agitated, but for once it didn’t seem directed at her. They’d somehow had a special moment in the car when he held onto her hand. “Besides, O’Brien’s a prick, a big talker in
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