Eleanor nodded once.
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
She returned to the defense table.
Reid rose slowly, walked to the lectern. His questions were precise, his tone controlled.
“Mrs. Mercer,” he said, “no one forced you to take those posters down, did they?”
“No.”
“You did that on your own.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew, even then, that people might see that as interfering with efforts to find Caroline.”
“I… I didn’t think it through,” she said. “But I guess so, yes.”
“You never told Mr. Mercer’s lawyers until now.”
“No.”
He nodded slightly.
“But to be very clear”—he paused, letting his gaze sweep the jury—“David never asked you to take them down.”
“No,” she said. “He didn’t.”
“And you’ve never seen him harm Caroline Simms.”
“Never,” she said firmly, some steel under the tears now. “He loved that girl. They fought, but he loved her. And he loves that boy.”
Reid held her eyes for a second, then turned back toward the bench.
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Mrs. Mercer, you may step down,” Judge Harlan said.
Margaret rose carefully from the chair, cast one quick look toward her son at the defense table, then made her way back to the gallery.
Eleanor slid the next file from the stack and looked across the aisle for the first time all afternoon.
Reid was already watching her.
Looking at her the way he always had in a courtroom?—
like she was the most dangerous thing in it.
And maybe she was.
For the first time since opening statements, the State’s case no longer felt inevitable.
Eleanor Harper was only getting started.
54
Jackson County Superior Court
