Page 69 of Claim

“About?”

“Him staying with me.”

My heart stuttered.

“If he gets bail,” Lennon went on. “Said he needs an address.”

“Yeah, he does.”

“Right. So is that something you need for your files or whatever?”

I leant back in my chair, almost not believing the timely convenience of it all. So I had to check this was legitimate. Agree. Not forced. “And you’re… willing?”

“Guess I have to be.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You don’t. That’s why this matters. Thank you. Truly. You may have just saved this case. If not his life.”

“Don’t put that on me.” He exhaled hard. “But look. There’s still a problem.”

“What kind of problem? You’re employed? No criminal record?”

“Yeah. And no. But it ain’t that.”

“Then what?”

“Space.” He paused, a baby fussing faintly in the background before he murmured something soft and came back to me. “I can get Amara and the twins to her mum’s for a few days. Give Rich room to breathe. But it’s his sister I’m worried about. I can’t have her going back to a house Cormac paid for. Not her. Not Maisie. And his mum…I don’t know how much he’s told you, but she’s not… stable. Drinking. Snorting. Mental health. It’s been bad for years, and since Rich got banged up it’s tipped over. Guessing she can’t get her supply no more. But they’re both vulnerable. So, I don’t know if legal aid stretches to moving them. Or at least his sister. Witness protection or something. She’s sixteen. A kid with a kid. I thought I’d ask.”

I chewed the end of my pen. “Legally?” I sighed. “No. He’s not an active informant. Witness protection doesn’t apply. And funding is… limited.”

“Right.” A pause. The soft hush of someone soothing a baby. Then, quieter, “Can you make him?”

“Make him what?”

“Grass.” His voice hardened. “Inform. Blow the whole fucking network that’s had him in a chokehold since he was fifteen. Get that protection for him. For his family.”

I drew a careful breath, my pulse thudding. It always sounded so simple when people said it like that. As if speaking were a switch to flip and everything else falls into place.

“It’s complicated,” I said as if that summed up the whole clusterfuck that was government protection.

“How?”

“It isn’t something I can initiate for starters. That has to come from him. And talking doesn’t get him out. It doesn’t speed bail. It doesn’t stop the remand clock. If anything, it delays it. Assessments are done. He stays inside while they decide whether what he knows is useful.” I paused, choosing my next words with care. “And nothing is guaranteed. Not protection. Certainly not for his wider family. And if even a whisper gets out while he’s still inside, if anyone thinks he might talk, he won’t make it to trial.”

The thought lodged in my chest, sharp and unwelcome.

“I can’t push him into that.” I rubbed my forehead. “Not legally. Not professionally.”

“But personally?”

“Personally is not an option I have. Not while I’m his defence counsel.” I waited a beat before explaining more. “And you should understand that if that road is taken, it isn’t just a new address. It’s no contact. No old ties. No you.”

And no me.

But I didn’t say that.

“He’d belong to the state. For the rest of his life. That isn’t freedom. It’s a different kind of cage.”

Silence stretched.