Chapter 50
Jackson County Superior Court
Monday Afternoon
Judge Harlan glanced down at his notes, then back to the State’s table.
“Mr. Calloway, you may call your next witness.”
Reid rose.
“The State calls Dr. Evelyn Cade, Your Honor.”
A few heads turned as the side door opened and Dr. Cade walked in with her usual unhurried stride, dark suit, hair pulled into a no-nonsense knot streaked with gray. She took the stand, was sworn, and settled, hands folded neatly.
Reid stepped to the lectern.
“Dr. Cade, would you please state your name and occupation for the record?”
“Dr. Evelyn Cade. I’m the regional medical examiner based out of Asheville.”
“How long have you served in that role?”
“Twelve years.”
“Were you called to examine human remains recovered from an area known as Riverbend here in Jackson County?”
“Yes.”
“Briefly, can you describe what you received?”
“A set of skeletal remains—partial but substantial—recovered from a shallow grave. Along with associated clothing and personal effects.”
“Were you able to identify those remains?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“First, through dental comparison with charts provided by the Simms family dentist, then by DNA analysis comparing bone samples to a known maternal relative.”
“And what was the conclusion?”
“That the remains were those of Caroline Simms.”
A quiet murmur moved through the gallery.
Reid gave it a moment, then continued.
“From your examination, did those remains appear to have come to rest at Riverbend naturally?”
“No.”
“What did you observe?”
“The burial pattern and soil interface were consistent with deliberate placement. The bones were together in a way suggesting someone had placed a body there, then covered it. It was not a case of surface remains scattered by animals or erosion.”
“Were you able to determine cause of death?”
“Cause is undetermined,” Cade said. “Skeletal remains, especially after years, often don’t preserve enough evidence for a specific cause.”
“Manner of death?”
She paused.
“I can say the circumstances are highly suspicious for foul play,” she said. “A young woman disappears, is never heard from again, and years later, her remains are found deliberately buried in a construction area. That is not typical of natural or accidental death.”
Reid nodded slightly.
“Thank you, Doctor. No further questions at this time.”
He returned to his table.
Judge Harlan looked to the defense.
“Ms. Harper?”
Eleanor rose. Her voice, when she spoke, was calm.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Cade.”
“Good afternoon.”
“You and I have met before,” Eleanor said. “You’ve testified in my cases over the years.”
“I want to be very clear with the jury about the limits of what you can tell us.”
Eleanor stepped a little closer.
“Doctor, you cannot say how Caroline Simms died. Correct?”
“Correct. Cause of death is undetermined.”
“And you cannot say who placed her remains at Riverbend.”
“No.”
“Nothing about the bones themselves tells you who put them there.”
“That’s right. The remains don’t name a perpetrator.”
“And nothing in your examination allows you to say, within a reasonable degree of medical certainty, that David Mercer buried Caroline Simms.”
“No,” Cade said. “My conclusions are limited to identification and observable findings. I do not identify perpetrators.”
Eleanor nodded once.
“Thank you, Doctor. No further questions.”
She turned to walk back to her table.
Her eyes drifted toward Reid—instinct, nothing more. For years, that look had been a silent shorthand—did you see that?—meant only for him.
She caught herself halfway there, her gaze snapping back to the floor. The loss of that small, automatic connection felt like the floor dropping out beneath her.
“Dr. Cade, you may step down,” Judge Harlan said.
Cade left the stand.
Reid stood again.
“The State calls Sheriff Burke Scott.”
Burke walked to the stand, uniform pressed, expression even. He was sworn, took his seat, and settled with his hands loosely folded.
“Sheriff, please state your name and your position for the record,” Reid said.
“Burke Scott. Sheriff of Jackson County.”
“Sheriff Scott, did your office at some point receive information suggesting David Mercer had buried Caroline Simms at a location called Riverbend?”
“Yes.”
“From whom did that information come?”
“From a former girlfriend of Mr. Mercer,” Burke said. “Katie Martin.”
“Without getting into everything Ms. Martin has already told the jury,” Reid said, “once you had that information, what did you do?”
“We treated it as a lead,” Burke said. “We pulled old maps and incident reports on Riverbend. Specifically, we looked at the grading logs from the week she vanished. We confirmed what the property looked like at the time Caroline disappeared, and set up a search.”
“What kind of search?”
“K-9 first,” Burke said. “We brought out our dogs under the cover of a training exercise so we didn’t alarm the neighborhood. When both dogs alerted on the same spot in a greenway area, we marked it. Came back early the next morning with equipment.”
“And what happened then?”
“We had a bobcat take off shallow layers of soil. Third pass, we saw fabric.”
“Did you stop work at that point?”
“Yes. We called Dr. Cade and treated it as a potential crime scene.”
Reid nodded.
“Prior to receiving Ms. Martin’s tip, had your office investigated Caroline’s disappearance?”
“For years,” Burke said. “We followed up on tips, re-interviewed witnesses, and worked with State and federal partners. We never had a body. Never had a crime scene. Just a missing person.”
“Sheriff, to be clear, did your office use K-9s during the initial 2017 search?”
“We did,” Burke said. “The K-9s tracked her from the car down the highway embankment, but the trail stopped dead at the treeline.
By the time we moved the search toward the Riverbend site a few days later, a ten-foot-high berm of fill dirt had been placed for the retaining wall.
It created a massive physical barrier between us and the wooded area behind it.
We couldn't get the dogs or the equipment back there.
“And Ms. Martin’s information was the first specific reference you had to Riverbend as a burial site?”
“That’s right.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. No further questions at this time.”
Reid sat.
Judge Harlan turned his attention to the defense.
“Ms. Harper?”
Eleanor rose.
“Ms. Martin waited nearly six years after the end of that relationship to come to you. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew, by the time you received that information, that she was an ex-girlfriend of David Mercer.”
“Yes.”
“An ex-girlfriend who was angry about how the relationship ended.”
Burke’s gaze stayed level.
“I knew she wasn’t happy with him, yes.”
“Riverbend isn’t some isolated patch of woods, is it?” Eleanor continued.
“No.”
“It’s a subdivision—with houses, workers, delivery trucks. A normal neighborhood.”
“Like any neighborhood,” Burke said.
“And that greenway area where the dogs alerted—has that been open to the public?”
“There’s a walking path through it,” Burke said. “Yes.”
“So in eight years, Sheriff, is it fair to say you cannot tell this jury who may have accessed that strip of woods besides Mr. Mercer?”
“I can’t account for every person who’s ever walked through there, no.”
“And you can’t tell them, based on your investigation alone, exactly when Caroline’s remains were placed in that ground.”
“No,” Burke said. “That’s not my call. That’s Dr. Cade’s field.”
Eleanor nodded once.
“Thank you, Sheriff. No further questions.”
She sat.
Burke stepped down.
Jackson County Superior Court
Late Afternoon
The State’s case was building—piece by piece—but every witness still left a seam Eleanor could pry at.
Across the aisle, she could hear Reid—papers sliding into his briefcase, a low word to Burke, the familiar rhythm of his day ending without her.
The distance between them held as steady as the record.
Judge Harlan checked the clock on the wall, then looked back to the jury box.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to break for the day,” he said.
“Remember my earlier instructions: do not discuss the case among yourselves or with anyone else, do not consume any media coverage about this matter, and do not form or express any opinions until you’ve heard all the evidence and my instructions on the law. ”
He glanced toward the tables.
“Counsel, be prepared to resume with the State’s next witness at nine a.m. tomorrow.”
He lifted the gavel.
“Court is adjourned for today.”
The gavel cracked once.
Chairs scraped. Voices rose in a low stir as the jurors were led out. Reporters immediately leaned toward one another, already framing the day for their deadlines. Deputies began their end-of-day routines—securing evidence, clearing the gallery.
Eleanor sat for a moment longer than she needed to, fingers resting on the edge of the defense table.
The room wavered at the edges of her vision.
Her stomach rolled, a slow, sour twist that had nothing to do with what she’d eaten and everything to do with the weight behind her ribs.
“I’m going to head out,” she said to David and Margaret Mercer. “We’ll talk tomorrow about the next steps.”
Margaret nodded, worry in her eyes.
“You look pale, honey.”
“I’m fine,” Eleanor lied. “Just a long day.”
She gathered her files with more care than necessary, each motion deliberate, as if precision alone could keep her upright.
Then even that familiar sound stopped.
For one terrible second, she almost looked up.
She had the insane, impossible thought that maybe he was looking at her too.
She didn’t let herself find out.
She didn’t look over.
If she did, she wasn’t sure her legs would carry her out of the room.
Eleanor slipped out a side door instead of the main aisle, the cooler air of the hallway hitting her like a splash.
Away from the cameras. Away from the murmurs. Away from the man across the courtroom who wasn’t allowed to be anything but an adversary now.
Her hand pressed briefly against the wall as a fresh wave of exhaustion washed through her.
One foot in front of the other, she told herself.
Just make it to the car.
Tomorrow, she could go back to being unshakable in front of a jury.
Tonight, she just needed to get out before the walls closed in.
She reached into her bag for her keys, and her thumb snagged on the spare key to his place. The jagged edge bit into her skin.
For a heartbeat, she saw his hallway. Heard the creak of his floorboards beneath her feet.
Then she shoved the ring deeper into her bag and kept walking.
Normally, they would’ve been arguing about the day’s testimony—over takeout and a bottle of wine, blurring the line between State and Defense until the sun came up.
Instead, the hallway felt too wide, and the drive home felt like a sentence.