“Can you do it?”
Eleanor met her gaze.
“We’re going to make them prove every single thing they’re saying about him,” she said. “If they can’t, the jury will see that. And if at any point I stop believing he’s telling me the truth?—”
She glanced toward David’s father.
“—you’ll be the first to know.”
He studied her.
“If you stop believin’ him,” he said quietly, “you’ll tell us?”
“If I stop believing him,” she said, “I won’t be your lawyer anymore.”
He held her eyes for a long moment.
Then nodded once.
“That’ll do.”
David sank back onto the couch.
“What happens now?”
“Now I go back to the office,” Eleanor said. “I file formal discovery requests. Every report, every interview, every text, every photo they plan to use. The lab work on Riverbend. Dr. Cade’s autopsy. Then I start pulling it apart.”
All her doubts lived buried under the armor she wore into court.
She hesitated.
“And I see exactly what he showed them this morning,” she added quietly.
A muscle pulsed in David’s cheek, but he didn’t say Reid’s name again.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Margaret said, pushing to her feet.
Eleanor followed her down the hall.
In the kitchen, Davie stood at the sink washing his hands, head bent over the soap. The sight hit harder than she expected.
“Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”
Davie shrugged, more boy than burdened.
“MiMi says it’s just court stuff,” he said. “Grown-up talk.”
“She’s right,” Eleanor said. “Just grown-up talk.”
He rinsed the suds away and glanced up at her.
“Mama’s still an angel,” he said matter-of-factly, as if confirming the one part of the world that didn’t change.
Eleanor’s throat tightened.
“Yeah,” she managed. “She is.”
He dried his hands.
