Chapter 38
Jackson County Courthouse — Mid Morning
Eleanor Harper had barely slept.
Between a surprise weekend visit from her parents and Declan O’Rourke’s sudden trip back to Charleston, Sylva’s usual rhythm had been anything but quiet.
The courtroom, however, was exactly what she needed.
Order. Rules. Predictable arguments.
The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of papers when Eleanor Harper stood from counsel table.
Across the aisle, Reid Calloway leaned back slightly in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself for a man about to lose an argument.
Eleanor gathered her notes and walked toward the witness stand.
Just before she reached it—
Reid winked.
Quick. Infuriating. Entirely too attractive for nine-thirty on a Monday morning.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Oh, we are not doing this today.
She turned back to the witness.
“Mr. Dalton,” she said calmly, “you testified that you clearly saw my client leave the parking lot that evening.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“And you’re certain of the time?”
“Yes.”
Eleanor paced slowly in front of the stand.
“And yet,” she said, lifting a page from her file, “in your statement to Officer Grant, you said you left the restaurant at nine fifteen.”
The witness shifted.
“Well… around then.”
“Not nine thirty?”
“No.”
“Interesting.”
Across the room, Reid watched her carefully dismantle the testimony piece by piece.
He knew exactly what she was doing.
Setting the trap.
Just as Eleanor opened her mouth to ask the next question—
The courtroom doors creaked open.
April Whitaker slipped inside.
Eleanor barely glanced over—
Until April caught her eye.
April gave her a look.
Then subtly nodded toward the back of the courtroom.
Eleanor followed the gesture.
And almost smiled.
Her parents were walking down the aisle.
Lawrence Harper moved with the calm authority of a man very comfortable in courtrooms.
Beside him, Liz Harper looked around with open curiosity.
They slid quietly into the last row.
Liz gave Eleanor a tiny wave.
Eleanor returned it with a quick smile.
Then she turned smoothly back to the witness.
“Now, Mr. Dalton,” she said coolly, “let’s talk about what you were drinking that night.”
Twenty minutes later, Reid rose.
“Your Honor, may I redirect?”
The judge nodded.
Reid approached the stand with easy confidence.
“Mr. Dalton,” he said pleasantly, “let’s make sure we’re being fair here.”
He paced slowly, hands resting lightly in his pockets.
“You did see the defendant that night.”
“Yes.”
“And you recognized him.”
“Yes.”
Reid nodded thoughtfully.
“Good.”
He turned toward the jury—
Then glanced casually toward the back of the courtroom.
And stopped.
Lawrence Harper was watching him.
Calm. Observant.
Beside him, Liz Harper looked delighted.
For half a second, Reid looked genuinely stunned. His fingers tightened on the edge of the lectern.
Across the room, Eleanor saw it.
For one glorious second, she enjoyed it immensely.
Reid cleared his throat, straightened slightly, and continued.
“So Mr. Dalton,” he said smoothly, as though nothing at all had happened, “you’re telling this jury you recognized the defendant immediately.”
The witness nodded.
“Yes sir.”
Reid resumed pacing slowly in front of the jury box, every inch the confident prosecutor again.
But Eleanor could still see the faint tension in his shoulders.
Good, she thought. Welcome to my morning.
Closing arguments turned into a quiet duel.
Eleanor went first.
Sharp. Controlled. Precise.
She walked the jury through the timeline with surgical efficiency, calmly dismantling the witness’s testimony piece by piece.
When she finished, she returned to her seat.
Reid leaned slightly toward her.
“Show off,” he murmured.
“You started it.”
Reid stood next.
Buttoned his jacket.
Walked slowly toward the jury.
And turned on the charm.
By the time he finished, half the jury looked convinced.
Eleanor leaned back in her chair.
Damn him.
He was good.
Court adjourned a few minutes later.
People began filing out of the courtroom.
Eleanor gathered her files when she heard a familiar voice.
“Ellie.”
She looked up.
Her parents were walking down the aisle.
Liz hugged her immediately.
“You were wonderful.”
“Mom, you saw twenty minutes.”
“That was enough.”
Lawrence reached Reid first.
He extended a hand.
“Good argument.”
Reid shook it.
“Thank you, sir.”
Lawrence studied him a moment.
“You two always try cases against each other?”
“Not always,” Reid said.
“Pity,” Lawrence replied mildly. “You make each other better.”
Eleanor laughed.
“That sounds like a terrible idea.”
Liz joined them, smiling.
Just then, April hurried down from the clerk’s desk.
“Oh my goodness!”
She hugged Liz enthusiastically.
“Mrs. Harper! I haven’t seen you in a year!”
“April Whitaker!” Liz laughed.
“And Mr. Harper!” April said, hugging him too. “So good to see you both.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“This courthouse is ridiculous.”
“Your courthouse,” Reid said quietly beside her.
The courtroom doors opened again.
Deck stepped inside.
He paused when he saw the group gathered near the front.
Reid raised an eyebrow. “Deck.”
Deck approached slowly. “Am I interrupting?”
Eleanor smiled. “Never.”
Liz Harper looked delighted. “Declan O’Rourke. I was hoping we’d see you while we were here.”
“Liz.” The seriousness in his face eased just a little. “You’re lookin’ well.”
Lawrence stepped forward and shook his hand. “You crusty old Irish bastard. How are you?”
Deck snorted. “Still better-lookin’ than you.”
“Impossible,” Lawrence said. “I’ve spent a fortune preserving this face.”
Liz rolled her eyes. “The two of you are exhausting.”
Lawrence clapped Deck once on the shoulder. “You watching over my girl?”
Deck’s gaze flicked briefly to Eleanor, then to Reid standing beside her.
“Always,” he said quietly.
For a second, the warmth of it settled over all of them.
Then Deck looked back at Eleanor.
And that serious flicker in his expression didn’t go away.
“I’ve just come back from Charleston,” he said. “There’s somethin’ we ought t’ talk about. Maybe when the courtroom’s not quite so crowded.”
Eleanor felt the hairs rise at the back of her neck.
Deck didn’t use that tone for gossip.
And just like that—
The easy warmth of the moment shifted.
Something beneath the surface had just started to crack.