For the moment.
“Put him through to my office,” Eleanor said. “I’ll take it in there.”
She grabbed her bag and headed down the short hall toward her corner office.
Behind her, Deck called, “We’re not done, Nell! You know I’ll be lookin’ for an answer when you get off that phone.”
Eleanor lifted a hand in acknowledgment without turning around.
Of course, he would.
He always had.
She closed her office door behind her, the click of the latch finally cutting off Deck’s voice. She leaned her back against the wood for a single heartbeat and closed her eyes.
The ghost of a shiver traced its way down her spine—a sharp, vivid memory of the cold granite counter biting into her thighswhile Reid’s heat had burned everywhere else. She could still feel the phantom weight of his hands hoisting her up, the way the world had narrowed down to the two of them in that kitchen. It had been reckless. It had been the most honest thing she’d done in years.
She exhaled, pushing off the door and crossing to her desk. The phone was already flashing.
The warmth receded, replaced by the cool, bracing air of the office. She was a defense attorney again.
She picked up the receiver and hit the blinking line.
“Eleanor Harper,” she said.
“Morning, Ms. Harper,” Burke’s voice came through, calm and steady. “It’s Burke Scott. You got a minute?”
“Morning, Sheriff,” she said, her voice dropping into its neutral, 'Officer of the Court' tone. She wondered if he knew his father’s name was currently being dragged through the mud on every smartphone in the county.
The last of the weekend warmth—the phantom feel of Reid’s hands— replaced by a cold, bracing professionalism. She didn’t sit in her chair; she braced herself against the desk.
“Sure,” she said. “What’s going on?”
Whatever it was, she already had the sinking feeling it was about to yank her right back into the center of the storm.
And Deck was definitely not going to like the side she’d chosen.
31
Jackson County Courthouse — Late Morning
The courthouse steps were busier than usual.
Not crowded—Sylva didn’t really do crowds. A couple of people lingered near the railing, phones in hand. Two women stood off to the side, talking in low voices, glancing up every few seconds toward the entrance.
Reid Calloway spotted them before he reached the bottom step.
Phones.
Always the phones now.
He didn’t break stride.
One step. Two.
A voice cut through the low murmur.
“Mr. Calloway.”
