Eleanor shot him a look, but she didn’t stop him. If Mercer couldn’t handle the blunt version from their side of the table, he’d never survive what was coming from the other.
David didn’t flinch.
“No.”
Deck studied him another moment.
Then nodded slightly.
“Good answer.”
Eleanor turned back to Mercer.
“Deck will start by reviewing everything we can get from the original case and from your end.”
David nodded. “Whatever you need.”
Eleanor hesitated.
“David… there’s something you should understand.”
He waited.
“The people driving this story don’t care about truth,” she said quietly. “They care about attention.”
David gave a faint, humorless smile.
“I figured that out around noon today.”
“They will dig into your life,” she continued. “They’ll speculate. Twist things. And if they can’t find something damaging, they’ll invent it.”
“Vultures,” Deck muttered.
David looked between them.
“I can handle speculation.”
Eleanor held his gaze.
“Most people think they can.”
She’d thought so too—until they had turned her into a headline and strangers had decided they knew exactly what kind of woman she was.
Silence settled briefly over the table.
Then David stood.
“I appreciate you meeting with me.”
Eleanor rose as well.
“I’ll review what we have and call you tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
Deck escorted him toward the door.
As David walked past the reception desk, Frannie was already on the phone, her voice a polite stone wall. “No, Mr. Calloway, she’s currently in a meeting... Yes, I’ll tell her you called.”
