She reached for her shoes.
Reid caught her hand.
“Don’t.”
She looked up.
“Stay comfortable.”
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then she cleared her throat lightly.
“Comfortable isn’t usually how this town likes its women once they become part of the story,” she said.
“Now that,” Reid said, “sounds like excellent legal counsel.”
She poured him a glass and nodded toward the couch in her office.
“Come sit. Unless you’ve had enough of lawyers for one day.”
“I’m a glutton for punishment,” he said. “And subpoenas.”
The couch faced the tall windows overlooking Main Street and the dark line of mountains beyond. On the coffee table, a legal pad held a few scribbled notes:
AG Call
Media Strategy
Caroline Simms – Potential Conflict?
They settled beside each other, shoulders brushing.
Reid lifted his glass slightly.
“To quiet evenings pretending not to be on fire.”
Eleanor’s mouth curved.
“They don’t last long around here,” she said. “Especially when the internet remembers we exist.”
She took a sip, eyes drifting back toward the laptop on the conference table.
“You watched it?” he asked.
“Half,” she said. “I turned it off when the comments started asking why the DA hasn’t charged anyone and whether local defense attorneys are part of the cover-up.”
He exhaled through his nose.
“I’ve spent all afternoon telling Raleigh we’re not mishandling a cold case we didn’t even open,” he said. “Burke’s pulling the file. We’re reopening it.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass.
“And Lila Grant?”
“She’ll get her soundbites,” Reid said. “But not before we know what we’re talking about.”
Eleanor watched his profile for a moment.
