“You want me to come?”
Deck’s voice floated from the hall behind her.
She hadn’t heard him come in.
He stepped into view, coffee in hand, concern etched in the lines around his eyes.
She shook her head once.
“I’ve got it.”
“Nell—”
“I need to do this myself,” she said. “Stay here. Keep an eye on the vultures—phones, reporters, whoever thinks this is entertainment.”
“Aye,” he said finally. “Text if you need me.”
Outside, Main Street was bright and deceptively ordinary, like the town hadn’t turned on one of its own. Tourists strolled past with shopping bags, pausing to takepictures of the courthouse. A flower box overflowed on the corner.
For one wild, useless second, she imagined crossing to the courthouse instead, taking the elevator up to the DA’s floor and asking Reid exactly when he’d decided to put David’s life in twelve strangers’ hands—and whether the bones from Riverbend had tipped the scale.
But that wasn’t who she got to be today.
Today, she was David Mercer’s lawyer.
She didn’t see the flower box.
She crossed the street to her car, slid in, and started the engine.
The Mercer House — Thirty Minutes Later
The Mercer place sat quiet under a pale blue May sky, the red brick softened by time and careful landscaping. The pond in front of the house caught the light, throwing fractured silver onto the undersides of the oaks.
Her tires crunched on the gravel drive.
Through the front window, she could see movement—Margaret Mercer in the kitchen, David’s father in his chair by the TV, the flicker of a baseball game on.
She parked beside David’s truck and killed the engine.
For a moment, she sat there, hands gripping the wheel, watching a small figure move across the backyard.
Davie.
Baseball in hand, throwing it against the old maple, catching the bounce like nothing in his life was shifting under his feet.
Don’t think about him yet.
One thing at a time.
She got out and walked up the brick path.
Before she could knock, the front door opened.
Margaret stood there in a faded blue blouse, dishtowel in one hand.
“Eleanor,” she said. Relief and worry tangled in her voice. “We weren’t expectin’ you today.”
“Hi, MiMi,” Eleanor said gently. “Can I come in?”
