“Can you?”
“Yes,” she said.
But even as the word left her mouth, something cold slid in behind it.
Riverbend.
Within days, the photos would be in her inbox. The ground. The fabric. The bones.
Reid had already seen them.
He’d sat in his office and studied that scene—every angle—before he ever called her.
Before he ever kissed her goodnight.
Her stomach tightened.
For the first time, the distance between them didn’t feel like a line they were choosing not to cross.
It felt like something real.
Something that might not move.
He looked at her another beat, then nodded once—like he didn’t entirely like the answer, but wanted to believe it.
“He’s the elected District Attorney,” she said evenly. “It’s his job to bring them what he thinks might be a crime. It’s my job to make sure they can’t turn that into a conviction unless they can prove every piece of it beyond a reasonable doubt in front of a jury.”
David pushed to his feet, pacing once behind the coffee table.
“They listened to Katie Martin and Lila Grant and decided my boy ought to live through this all over again?” he said.
“Davie doesn’t know yet,” Margaret said quickly.
Footsteps pattered in the hall.
“MiMi?” Davie called. “I’m hungry.”
He skidded into the doorway and stopped when he saw Eleanor—and then spotted his uncle at the edge of the room.
“Hey,” he said shyly.
The whole room seemed to shift.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Eleanor said softly.
Davie looked from face to face, sensing the tension even if he didn’t understand it.
“What’s wrong?”
Margaret cleared her throat.
“Nothin’, sugar. Grown-up stuff.” She forced a smile. “Why don’t you go wash up for lunch?”
Davie’s gaze went to his father instead.
“Daddy?”
David knelt so they were eye level.
