Burke gave a short nod. “I’ll put another body up here besides Baker. For visibility. I don’t like when the media starts crowding the entrance.”
Reid’s gaze drifted toward the side exit. Eleanor emerged, blonde hair catching the sunlight.
Game face still firmly in place.
Lila noticed her immediately.
“Here we go,” Scout muttered from behind them.
Lila moved toward Eleanor with practiced confidence.
“Ms. Harper,” she called smoothly. “Any comment on the renewed interest in your Charleston acquittal? Does the defense always get this close to the prosecution in Sylva, or was that kiss just for our listeners? #HotSideBar"
Reid felt the tension shift beside him. Burke didn’t move.
Eleanor stopped at the bottom of the steps. One hand smoothed her skirt—a precise, unnecessary gesture.
Composed. Calm.
“That case was adjudicated in a court of law,” she said evenly. “Like every case I handle. And as for my private life, it’s not evidence.”
Lila tilted her head. “And the records requests on Sinclair and Lauren Pierce?”
“Public records are governed by statute,” Eleanor replied. “I suggest you and your audience familiarize yourselves with it before you start hunting ghosts.”
A faint ripple of laughter from the crowd.
Lila smiled thinly. “We’re only asking questions.”
Burke stepped between them.
“And I’ve answered them,” he said calmly. “Anything else goes through proper channels.”
“Cut,” Lila said quietly.
She lowered her mic.
But the phones didn’t.
One girl in a Vanished tee turned her back to the building, whispering a mocking recap into her front-facing camera about “The Ice Queen of Charleston.”
Reid watched Eleanor as she moved toward her car.
Professional. Unshaken.
But her shoulders were a fraction tighter than they’d been in court.
She fumbled her keys once before the lock caught—enough to matter.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
She didn’t hesitate out of fear. She stared at the screen with a weary, bone-deep exhaustion. It was the fifth call in twenty minutes. She didn’t answer. She locked the screen, but as the display faded, a row of notifications stacked up like a wall:
#HotSidebar.
#HotDistrictAttorney.
