Eleanor felt the heat—a raw, stinging flush—ignite in her cheeks and burn down her neck. It was so obvious, so visible, that the room went dead silent.
Deck didn't just watch. He leaned in, his eyes darting between their joined hands and Eleanor’s flaming face.
Reid was still holding her hand. He hadn't moved. He was looking at her like they were the only two people in the county, blatantly ignoring the fact that the Sheriff of Jackson County was three feet away.
Deck cleared his throat. It wasn't a cough; it was a loud, rhythmic warning that sounded like a saw hitting a knot in a log.
Reid finally released her, but he didn't look away. He gave her one last, lingering look that felt like a touch before nodding toward the room at large.
“Good luck, counselor,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.
He stepped past them, his shoulder brushing hers—a brief, hard contact that sent heat skittering down her spine—and walked out.
The door clicked shut, leaving the room smelling of his citrus aftershave. Typical Reid—cocky enough to know exactly what he’d done and shameless enough to enjoy it.
Eleanor stood there, her hand still tingling, her face still on fire, while the silence in the office stretched thin enough to snap.She could feel Deck’s gaze drilling into the side of her head, and Burke’s pointed, overly-focused interest in the file on his desk.
Lord, lord,she thought, closing her eyes for a split second to find her center.I am in so much trouble.
Beside the filing cabinet, Scout let out a sudden, muffled sound—half-cough, half-choke—as he shoved his fist against his mouth to keep a laugh from exploding. He turned his head away, his shoulders shaking with the effort of staying professional.
Burke didn’t even try to hide the smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth. He looked down at the Simms file, but the amusement was clear in the way he shook his head, his eyes crinkling as he watched his friend and the county's most stubborn lawyer nearly set the carpet on fire.
Finally, Burke cleared his throat, reclaiming the room. He motioned toward the empty chair, his voice dropping the amusement for a tone that was all Sheriff. “All right. Counselor, sit please."
Eleanor sat.
Deck took the seat beside her, still looking like he wanted to subpoena Reid’s intentions.
Burke liked them together more than he probably should. That was the problem...
In another town, maybe it would have been simple. A district attorney and a defense attorney. Two people smart enough to know better and stubborn enough not to care.
But not here. Not now.
Not with David Mercer sitting in the middle of it like a lit fuse.
As Burke began to speak, she adjusted her blazer, a sharp, private satisfaction flickered through the embarrassment.
Reid was good—he was the best—but he wasn’t the only one who had done some dismantling forty-eight hours ago. She remembered the way his composure had shattered when she’ddragged her nails across his chest. No amount of courtroom polish could make her forget that she was the one who had held the match.
Eleanor exhaled slowly and turned back to Burke.
“All right,” she said. “What’s going on?”
Burke folded his hands on the desk.
“I’ll get straight to it.”
He looked at her evenly.
“We’re reopening the Caroline Simms investigation.”
The words settled over the room like something long buried had been dragged back into the light.
Eleanor had expected it, but hearing it said out loud still tightened something in her chest. Caroline had been gone eight years; this was the first time the case had felt truly alive to her.
She nodded once.
