“You stood in front of a jury and made him look harmless,” Lila said. “You made people believe him. And he walked away. So yes. I wanted you to pay.”
Eleanor felt every eye in the room turn toward them.
“You got to come up here and start over. New town. New life. New man.” Her eyes flicked toward Reid. “What did we get?”
Her mouth twisted.
“Nothing. Not even a body to bury.”
Eleanor looked at Lila and saw it then—not just anger. Not just grief. Something uglier.
“I didn’t kill your cousin,” Eleanor said. “And I didn’t lie. I did my job.”
“No,” Lila said softly. “You saved the man who took everything from us.”
“Okay!” April cut in brightly, standing between them. “And that is enough true crime for one evening.”
April grabbed Eleanor’s arm.
She didn’t wait for a response. She pulled her through the crowd, fast enough that Eleanor had to keep up or fall. As Eleanor followed April, she caught the reflection of the camera lens tracking her—already recording.
The bell over the door jangled—sharp and jarring—as it swung shut behind them.
Across the room, Reid stood as if he’d been carved from courthouse granite. His gaze stayed fixed on the door long after it closed.
Luke Hale’s hand tightened on his arm, more arrest than comfort.
“Don’t,” Luke said, low. “The half-life of that video is already ten minutes. If you go after her, you’re handing Lila the shovel to bury you.”
Reid’s chest rose and fell in a shallow, jagged rhythm. The space where Eleanor had stood felt hollow, the smell of her perfume already swallowed by beer and grease.
“She’s alone out there,” he said.
“She’s got April. And she’s got a defense to run,” Luke replied, stepping into his line of sight. “You’re the district attorney. Act like it.”
He turned Reid toward the back exit, the one away from the cameras and the street.
“We’re leaving,” Luke said, his voice back to deputy sheriff.
Reid didn’t fight him. He walked out behind Luke, shoulders square, eyes forward. He didn’t look at the half-eaten basket of fries. He didn’t look at the empty chair where she’d sat.
Outside, the cool mountain air hit his face. He climbed into the passenger seat of Luke’s truck, a man who had just protected his career by abandoning his heart.
As they pulled away, the neon bar sign slid across the windshield like a closing curtain.
“You did the right thing,” Luke said.
Reid looked down at his hands in the dashboard light and wondered how the right thing could feel so much like a crime.
57
Judge’s Chambers
Monday Morning
The wood-paneled room felt smaller with all four of them in it—Harlan behind his desk, Eleanor and Reid opposite, April by the door with a legal pad.
Harlan set a printout on the blotter between them.
