And for the first time since she had met him, Eleanor Harper was about to face Reid Calloway as if he were a stranger.
49
Jackson County Superior Court
Eleanor reached the defense table at 8:55 a.m.
The courtroom was already a pressure cooker. She felt the heat of a hundred stares on her back, but kept her gaze fixed on the mahogany.
She didn’t look at Reid.
She couldn’t afford to see if he looked the same.
David Mercer didn’t offer his usual nod. He sat rigid beside her, arms folded, a crumpled printout clenched in one hand.
She caught the headline before he shoved it toward her.
COLLUSION IN COLD BLOOD?
“David,” she said quietly. “Put that away.”
His eyes were hard. “They’re saying you gave Calloway the fill-dirt logs.”
Eleanor went still.
“That’s a lie.”
“Is it?” His voice dropped. “Because from where I’m sitting, my lawyer is sleeping with the man trying to put me in prison.”
The words hit, but she didn’t flinch.
“I am the only thing standing between you and a conviction,” she said, voice cold enough to cut. “If you want to fire me, do it now. Otherwise, sit up, look at the jury, and let me work.”
David stared at her for a long beat.
Then he crushed the paper in his fist and dropped it beside his chair.
“Just win,” he muttered.
His eyes held hers a second longer.
“Because if I go down for this… I’m not going down alone.”
The gavel cracked.
Eleanor stood, spine straight, face calm.
But for the first time, she understood the damage wasn’t just outside the courtroom anymore.
It was sitting beside her.
Across the aisle, Reid was already standing.
He’d removed his jacket. His shirtsleeves were rolled once at the cuffs, legal pad open in front of him, pen aligned precisely along the top edge. From a distance, he looked exactly as he always did in trial: composed, focused, contained.
Except a muscle ticked once in his jaw, a tiny betrayal of strain.
And when the clerk called the case back to order, and Judge Harlan settled behind the bench, Reid didn’t look at her.
