Judge Harlan nodded once.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he said, turning toward the box, “you have now heard all the evidence the State of North Carolina intends to offer. After a brief recess, we will proceed—if the defense chooses—with the defendant’s case. I remind you again not to discuss the case or consume any media coverage during this break.”
He lifted the gavel.
“Court will stand in recess for twenty minutes.”
The gavel cracked once.
As the jurors filed out, Eleanor sat very still.
“Now would be a good time to breathe,” Deck murmured from the row behind her.
She realized she hadn’t been breathing.
Across the aisle, Reid gathered his files with his usual precision, but his eyes stayed on the tabletop, not on her.
“Ms. Harper,” Judge Harlan said, his voice carrying over the low rustle of the clearing courtroom.
She stood.
“Your Honor?”
“You intend to call witnesses?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” she said. Her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “The defense will put on a case.”
“Very well,” he said. “Be prepared to proceed when we return.”
She nodded and sat again.
Deck leaned forward, resting his forearms on the back of her chair.
“You’re up now, Ellie-girl,” he said quietly. “Your turn to tell a story.”
“No,” she said. “My turn to make them doubt it.”
She straightened her files, feeling the familiar weight of a new phase settling into place.
When the jury came back, Reid Calloway would sit down.
And Eleanor Harper would stand.
Not as the woman who had danced with him under string lights. Not as the woman who had broken her own heart behind the courthouse.
As counsel.
As the defense.
As the only person in the room willing to make twelve people question everything they thought they knew.
The State had rested.
Now it was her turn to break it.
53
Jackson County Superior Court
