It would shatter.
Reid
The courtroom was louder than usual.
Whispers rolled through the gallery in low waves. The back row was packed with baseball caps, branded tees, and the unmistakable glow of phone screens held too low to be obvious.
VANISHED IN THE VALLEY. Mountain Mystery Week.
Someone even wore a lanyard with a podcast logo hanging from it, like a credential.
Reid adjusted his cuff and took his seat at the prosecution table.
This wasn’t a trial.
It was a misdemeanor theft hearing.
But half the county had apparently decided it was a live broadcast.
Judge Harlan entered through the side door, robe settling over his shoulders with practiced ease.
The room rose.
“Be seated.”
They did.
One phone buzzed. Another chimed.
Judge Harlan didn’t raise his voice.
“If anyone in this courtroom believes this proceeding is content,” he said calmly, “you are mistaken.”
A few heads ducked.
“Cell phones will be silenced. Not dimmed. Not tucked under a notebook. Silenced. If I see one more screen light up, it will be confiscated.”
A man in a Vanished tee shifted uncomfortably in the back row, ball cap still firmly planted on his head.
Judge Harlan’s gaze locked onto him.
“Son,” he said evenly, “take off that hat in my courtroom.”
The young man yanked it off quickly.
“And while you’re at it,” Judge Harlan added, “remember where you are.”
Silence fell hard and fast.
“This is a court of law,” he finished. “Not a studio.”
Reid hid the faintest smile.
Good.
Eleanor was already at the defense table when he looked over.
Navy pencil skirt. White silk blouse. Low ponytail back in place. Tan heels. Open-toed. French pedicure.
