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By Evelyn Rogers


Chapter One

Toni Cavender is a killer. Put her away for life.

The prosecutor had damned Toni to jail hell hours ago, but his words still hung in the air.

Did the jury hear them, too? Hard to tell. They looked like robots as they filed into the jury box, ready to render their verdict.

Toni felt a pinch of hope. Not a single juror sneered at her, or sent a pitying look her way. Maybe they remembered the defense, Sol having given his own summation his best shot. And Sol Edgerton's best was good indeed.

Robert Jameson was a sleaze, a wanna-be king of pornography, not to speak ill of the dead, but there you are. Miss Cavender has been a star without peer or scandal, a pillar of the community for more than ten years. The two of them involved in an affair? Laughable.

He hadn't used that exact phrasing—he'd been more subtle—but his meaning was clear. Even when the community was Hollywood, a pillar was someone to be reckoned with.

No one had laughed then, and with the jury returning after only four hours of deliberation, no one was laughing now. Instead, the air in the crowded courtroom rippled with the fumes of excitement; a single spark and the place would go up in flames.

Toni rubbed the sleeves of her pink silk shirt. The fabric felt cool to the touch; underneath, her skin burned. Otherwise she felt numb, as if she were watching the dailies on her latest film.

She framed the shoot, taking dual roles of director and star. It needed a point-of-view shot, from her line of sight, establishing her as the focus of the scene, a following pan and harsh lights as the jury filed in, cutaway to the judge, the courtroom, the widow, and of course the reaction shot of her, backlit for the halo effect, as the verdict was read.

And music. There had to be a muted beat, a slow increase in rhythm, building the suspense.

And a voice-over:

Okay, world, look and listen. Toni Cavender, star of stage and screen, celebrated beauty, the media's darling for most of her adult life, is about to get hers.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't give the voice-over a more positive spin.

Sitting beside her at the defense table, Sol Edgerton squeezed her hand, bringing her back from her imaginings. This wasn't a movie, it was real life. It was time to separate the two.

Sol was a great defense attorney. She'd done almost everything he'd asked of her. Time to find if his skills and her mix of truth and lies had been enough.

How does the script go now? I stand and face those who have decided my fate. Not death. The DA had asked for life. I'm playing Cool Woman now. No matter the verdict, I accept it with a nod.

"Take the state's deal," Sol had advised. "Plead to second-degree, ten to twenty, time off for good behavior, you'll be out in five."

Impossible. She had things to do during those years. A murder conviction would kill her plans.

So the prosecution had fingerprints, and an eyewitness, a stupid letter...so what, she had told herself.

She'd gambled with her freedom. She was about to find out if the gamble had paid off.

A shiver of genuine fear ran through her, and a deep despair that her life had come to this. Hers and the late Robert Jameson's. She wasn't strong enough for this. She wasn't tough enough.

Think of Maren.

She closed her eyes a minute, thought of the picture hidden among her belongings, and the fear lessened, though it didn't completely fade. The despair remained in full force, like a shark cruising beneath the surface of calm water, ready to strike without warning.

With the jury seated—eight men, four women, stacked in her favor according to Sol—the rustling in the packed courtroom ceased and the business at hand unwound. High on his bench, Judge Harvey Thompson spoke in stentorian tones, casting an occasional and openly unsympathetic eye at the defendant. Papers were exchanged, throats cleared, and it was time for Toni to stand and face the jury as the clerk read out their decision.

She dared a quick look at the grieving widow, who'd found her husband's body hours after he'd been killed. Carol Jameson stared back, her blonde hair bound into a spinsterish knot, a flash of triumph in her thick-lashed eyes.

For a former porn queen, she looked almost virginal. But she was ten years and a hundred sex scenes too late to play the ingénue with real conviction.

Did she really believe the prosecution's claim Toni was trying to break off an affair with her husband? Could anyone?

Back to the jury. Only their beliefs mattered. As the verdict was read, Toni braced herself for the expected worst. In the most private part of her heart and mind, she knew she wasn't after truth and justice. She wanted to be free.

The clerk's voice was crisp, but she heard only two words clearly:

"Not guilty."

Bedlam ensued. The gavel banged, the widow screamed, and Toni fell into Sol's arms. He was half a foot shorter than she was, but he knew how to give a congratulatory embrace.

And then matters turned into a complete blur, the judge demanding order and ending the trial, flashbulbs popping though they'd been barred from the courtroom, people shouting, strangers and acquaintances coming at her from all directions, their obscenely coveted presence in the courtroom possible because of a lottery.

Hard to play Cool Woman when she was being grabbed.

Before she could grasp the significance of what was happening, suddenly a man's hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her from the crowd.

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