“Good.”
Eleanor folded her hands loosely on the lectern.
“You told the jury that your relationship with Mr. Mercer lasted about eight months.”
“Yes.”
“And that relationship ended… how long ago?”
“About six years ago.”
“So you waited roughly six years before telling anyone in law enforcement about what you say he told you.”
“Yes.”
“You said you’re here today because you ‘should’ve told someone a long time ago.’”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
Katie shifted and smoothed her skirt.
“I was scared,” she said. “And I was stupid.”
“You were also angry,” Eleanor said softly. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“Angry at Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“Angry at how the relationship ended?”
Katie’s eyes flashed.
“It wasn’t a good ending,” she said. “No.”
“Angry enough,” Eleanor continued, “that when a certain podcast started talking about David Mercer and Caroline Simms, you reached out to its host.”
A flicker moved across Katie’s face.
“Yes,” she said finally.
“So instead of going to the police, you took your six-year-old secret straight to Lila Grant and Vanished in the Valley. Is that right?”
Katie’s fingers tightened on the edge of the witness stand. “I thought it would be safer,” she said. “And… I wanted people to know what he’d said.”
“People,” Eleanor repeated quietly. “Not the police. Not the district attorney. Not the sheriff. The listeners.”
“That was my mistake,” Katie shot back. “I’m trying to fix it now.”
Eleanor let that sit for a moment.
“I don’t doubt you were afraid, Ms. Martin,” she said. “But emotions can twist a memory, can’t they?”
