“I’m going to head out,” she said to David and Margaret Mercer. “We’ll talk tomorrow about the next steps.”
Margaret nodded, worry in her eyes.
“You look pale, honey.”
“I’m fine,” Eleanor lied. “Just a long day.”
She gathered her files with more care than necessary, each motion deliberate, as if precision alone could keep her upright.
Then even that familiar sound stopped.
For one terrible second, she almost looked up.
She had the insane, impossible thought that maybe he was looking at her too.
She didn’t let herself find out.
She didn’t look over.
If she did, she wasn’t sure her legs would carry her out of the room.
Eleanor slipped out a side door instead of the main aisle, the cooler air of the hallway hitting her like a splash.
Away from the cameras. Away from the murmurs. Away from the man across the courtroom who wasn’t allowed to be anything but an adversary now.
Her hand pressed briefly against the wall as a fresh wave of exhaustion washed through her.
One foot in front of the other, she told herself.
Just make it to the car.
Tomorrow, she could go back to being unshakable in front of a jury.
Tonight, she just needed to get out before the walls closed in.
She reached into her bag for her keys, and her thumb snagged on the spare key to his place. The jagged edge bit into her skin.
For a heartbeat, she saw his hallway. Heard the creak of his floorboards beneath her feet.
Then she shoved the ring deeper into her bag and kept walking.
Normally, they would’ve been arguing about the day’s testimony—over takeout and a bottle of wine, blurring the line between State and Defense until the sun came up.
Instead, the hallway felt too wide, and the drive home felt like a sentence.
51
Eleanor’s House
Monday Evening
The house was too quiet when Eleanor walked in.
She dropped her keys in the bowl by the door and set her briefcase down with more care than it deserved. The porch light spilled a soft glow across the hardwood, but she didn’t bother with the lamps. She toed off her heels and padded toward the kitchen in her bare feet.
Water. Something bland. Anything to settle the sour twist still in her stomach.
Her phone buzzed on the counter.
