Next to Die by Neil White

Grant had changed his mind. He would talk to us, at last, but it came with a condition.’
    ‘What has made him come forward now?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ Evans said. ‘We’re hoping you can find out.’
    Sam was confused. ‘I don’t understand.’
    ‘His condition is that he will talk, but only to you.’

Eighteen
     
    Joe sat in the courtroom, his forearms on the desk, calm on the surface, but his feet tapped out a fast rhythm. Monica was behind him, watching, learning.
    It was almost ten o’clock. The silence was awkward. The usher paid Joe no attention, but the court clerk flushed above the white lace of her formal blouse every time he glanced her way. Kim was further along the front row, reading something on her phone. He knew why she was doing it, so the police couldn’t accuse her of being too cosy with the defence. The shield stayed up when there were other people who could report back.
    The courtroom was made up of rows of long wooden desks and flip-down chairs, rising to the dock behind, the public gallery beyond that, two rows of plush red fabric. Ronnie’s mother was there, staring ahead, as if she was disbelieving, unsure of what was going to happen to her son. Joe turned and gave her a small nod of reassurance, a smile, but she didn’t respond.
    Joe’s eyes went to the television mounted on the wall. Once a case was before a judge, prisoners made their court appearances by video, although at the moment it showed just a grey curtain and a sign for HMP Manchester in front of it – the official name for Strangeways. A few minutes of silence passed and then Ronnie appeared, wearing a grey sweatshirt. His eyes stared at the camera, red and strained. From the inset image on the screen, all Ronnie could see was the empty judge’s chair.
    Joe looked around the courtroom again. It was a statement on how pathetic Ronnie’s life had become. Joe had seen the real excitement of the Crown Court, with gun-toting police officers manning the doors, everyone wary of a hardcore criminal or a revenge attack. Ronnie was facing a life behind bars and the only people to see his first step were his mother, two lawyers, a trainee, and two court employees.
    Then there was a noise. Joe turned round and watched as a man entered the room and shuffled along the back row of the public gallery. He sat in the corner, as if he had wanted to be anonymous, but he stared at Joe when it was obvious he had been seen. Joe felt a jolt of recognition. It was the man who had been outside his office the day before, watching, looking up.
    ‘Do you know him?’ Joe said. When Kim looked up, Joe nodded to the back of the courtroom. ‘The guy sat in the corner.’
    Kim turned back and then shook her head. ‘No. Is it important?’
    Joe paused as he thought about that, and then shook his head. ‘No, it’s all right.’
    Kim pointed to the television screen. ‘They never look how you expect,’ she said. She knew that Ronnie couldn’t hear them. The microphone was showing a mute symbol.
    ‘What, killers?’ Joe said, turning to look back at Ronnie. ‘He isn’t one yet.’
    ‘Let’s not play games, Joe. Fight hard when Ronnie can hear you, but between us, let’s be more realistic. Proof of guilt is different to proof of innocence, you know that. I always expect the guilt to be visible, like a stain or something.’
    Joe returned the smile, some of his poise returning. It was just a pre-court joust. ‘They don’t wear badges,’ he said. ‘Killers live next door and move amongst us. That’s just how it is. You can’t predict it.’
    ‘His baby though? Poor thing. How callous can he be?’
    ‘You’re sounding naive, Kim. With every murder I’ve ever dealt with, I’ve never got the full story. There’s what you can prove, and there is what people will tell me. What really happened is only ever known between two people, and one of those isn’t here.’
    Before Kim could respond, Joe said, ‘So how are you going to keep him in