“Will you be there with Daddy?”
“Yes,” she said. “I will.”
He nodded, satisfied.
“Okay.”
She stepped outside and took one long breath of clean air. It felt heavier than when she’d gone in, thick with the promise of a storm the forecast hadn’t mentioned.
As she reached her car, a sedan she didn’t recognize slowed on the road, phone held high out the passenger window.
The lens tracked her. Another vulture.
She didn’t duck.
By the time she reached Main Street again, she could already feel the storm picking up.
The podcasts would have their headline.
David Mercer indicted. Caroline Simms found.
What they didn’t know yet was the part that mattered.
She wasn’t done with them.
Not by a long shot.
And if Reid Calloway thought she was about to back down?—
He was about to learn better.
46
Jackson County Superior Court
By the time jury selection ended three weeks later, half of Jackson County had already picked a side.
Monday morning, the courtroom filled long before court was called to order. People lined the wooden benches shoulder to shoulder: locals from Sylva, reporters with notebooks open, courthouse regulars who never missed a high-profile case. Two television cameras stood near the back wall where the clerk had reluctantly allowed them, their operators murmuring as they checked light levels.
At the defense table, Eleanor Harper reviewed her notes with quiet precision.
Across the aisle, Reid Calloway stood with one hand resting lightly on the back of his chair, speaking with Sheriff Burke Scott. Burke’s hat was tucked under one arm as he leaned in, his voice low.
Neither of them looked toward the other.
But both of them felt it—that space between them, tight as a wire pulled too far.
At the front of the room, the clerk stepped forward.
“All rise.”
The room stood as Judge Harlan entered from the side door and climbed the bench.
“Be seated.”
Wood creaked as everyone sat again.
Judge Harlan adjusted his glasses and scanned the courtroom.
