“Wouldn’t we already know? I thought the police have to disclose evidence.” I can’t seem to be quiet. I have to wrap my head around it. “Or is that just the way it plays out on television?”

This time, Harriet does smile, at least a little. “They do, yes. But not yet. Certainly not before there’s an arrest.”

“Oh.” I finally get it. She fears that tomorrow Jackson will be subjected to a full song and dance presentation of the evidence, and the grand finale of the show will be putting him in cuffs and carting him off to a cell.

Oh god.

“If the worst happens, we’ll move for bail, of course,” Charles says. “Until then, we’re going to hope it doesn’t happen.”

The meeting continues for almost two more hours, covering so many details and plans that it feels like all the information is going to spill out of my ears. Even I’ve been given marching orders. Like Jackson, I need to be polite and charming to the press. But I have the added benefit of being able to say that he was with me at a party the night of the murder. Of course, that Halloween party was just over the hill in Studio City, and any reporter worth his salt will know that Jackson could have easily gone from Reed’s to the party.

That part, I won’t be saying.

As for my calls to the investors, I can reassure them that Jackson was with me, then segue neatly into Jackson’s talent—not to mention the fact that a little bit of drama attached to the resort probably won’t hurt the opening week receipts.

Jackson is told to stop doing his community service. Charles is going to square that with the court. “But we don’t want to draw attention to the fact that you got such a light sentence after the assault. No appearance of perks. No suggestion of special privileges. It will come out, of course,” he adds cynically, “but why shine a spotlight?”

Harriet had taken a seat, but now she stands. “I think that covers everything but motive. As it stands, the prosecution can come at this from either the movie angle or the assault angle—and the movie angle gets stronger once the media finds out about Ronnie. But,” she adds quickly, “I’m willing to wait to address that, so long as you’re aware of the potential downside.”

“I’ve already said that I am,” Jackson says.

I’m frowning at something else she’s said. “They’ll really think Jackson killed Reed to keep him from filing a civil assault suit? Is anyone else seeing the irony?”

“Trust me,” Harriet says. “People kill for the stupidest of reasons. The police know that, and they’ll push. And who knows what they’ll uncover if they investigate multiple angles.” She looks hard at Jackson. “So if there’s any other possible motive out there, I need to know about it now. Something pops out later and surprises me, it can destroy your entire case. I want you to be very clear about that.”

I sit perfectly still, but I’m terrified that the room can hear my heart, because it’s about to pound out of my chest. I don’t look at Jackson, but I’m certain he’s thinking the same thing. The photos of me. Reed threatened to expose them if I didn’t get Jackson to agree to the movie.

And, yeah, that’s definitely motive.

But all Jackson says is, “That’s it. Nothing else.”

I release a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. He’s still protecting me. Even though this secret could land him behind bars, he’s still protecting me.

Am I really such a coward that I will let him do that?

“All right,” Harriet says. “Let’s move on to—”

“There’s more.” My whisper is so soft that the words are barely audible. I keep my eyes on the table, not on Jackson.

“I’m sorry, Sylvia?” I look up to see Charles peering at me. “I couldn’t hear you.”

I draw in a deep breath and squeeze my hands into fists.

“Sylvia.” Jackson’s voice is hard. Demanding.

I look at him, hoping he can see the apology in my eyes. Then I turn my attention back to Harriet and Charles.

“He was blackmailing me.” I’m no longer whispering. I’m saying it flat out. “Reed. He had photos. I used to model for him and—well—some of them were explicit. I—I wouldn’t want them coming out. I—” I swallow. “I’m not sure I could handle that at all.”

Very slowly, Harriet puts her notes on the table. “I see.”

I turn just enough to see Jackson. To see the tiny shake of his head and the pain in his eyes. But I continue. “He said he’d release them if I didn’t convince Jackson to quit trying to block the movie.”