Eleanor rose again.
“The defense calls Margaret Mercer, Your Honor.”
A stir moved through the back rows as Margaret pushed herself up from the pew. She smoothed her skirt with hands that trembled enough to notice before she walked to the stand.
She raised her right hand, was sworn in, and sat gingerly, fingers curling around the edge of the witness chair.
Eleanor stepped closer, softening her voice.
“Mrs. Mercer, would you please state your name for the record?”
“Margaret Ann Mercer,” she said. “Folks call me Margaret. Or MiMi.”
“And how are you related to the defendant, David Mercer?”
“He’s my son.”
She glanced toward the defense table, then back at the jury.
“Mrs. Mercer,” Eleanor said, “I want to talk to you about the time after Caroline Simms disappeared. Is that okay?”
Margaret’s throat worked.
“I’ll try,” she said.
“When Caroline went missing,” Eleanor continued, “did you see missing-person posters around town?”
“Yes,” Margaret said. “At the grocery store. The hardware. Church bulletin board. Everywhere.”
“Did that upset you?”
Tears glimmered at the corners of her eyes.
“It… it broke my heart,” she said. “Seein’ her face everywhere. Knowin’ my grandson was gonna keep seein’ it too.And people lookin’ at us like…” She trailed off, pressing her lips together.
“Like what?” Eleanor asked gently.
“Like we did somethin’ to her,” Margaret whispered. “Like my boy did.”
A hush fell over the room.
“Mrs. Mercer,” Eleanor said, “those posters came down at some point. The jury has heard testimony suggesting that David took them down. Did he?”
Margaret shook her head. “No.”
“Did you ever see who did?”
Margaret hesitated. Her fingers twisted together in her lap.
“Mrs. Mercer?”
She looked down at her hands.
“I did,” she whispered.
A murmur moved through the gallery.
Judge Harlan rapped his gavel once. “Order.”
