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Flint grunted. “Maybe. But presumably no one was meant to see anything. If someone hits you over the head with a baseball bat a few times, chances are you’re not going to be around to report what you saw.”

Zach swallowed. “True.”

Flint studied him seriously. “You were lucky tonight, Zachariah.”

“I guess so.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m not too crazy about it either.”

Flint continued to regard him in that serious, troubled way. “I don’t understand why anyone would come after you. You’re not as useful as a patsy if you’re dead. So, unless there’s something you’re not telling me—”

“I’ve told you everything.”

Their gazes locked. After a moment, Flint nodded. “I believe you. But then we’re back to trying to understand why you’d be a target. As far as I can tell, you—we—don’t know anything that the cops don’t know.”

“I agree. I think. Honestly, I’m too tired to see straight.” Mostly Zach was thinking aloud, so he was a little embarrassed at the look of sympathy Flint gave him.

“I don’t doubt it. It’s been a long-ass day.”

Flint had never struck him as overly solicitous, so the unfamiliar softness in his face both warmed and confused Zach.

Flint said, “How’d it go over at the sheriff’s office?”

“Didn’t your friend Detective Schneider tell you?” There was a little note in Zach’s voice that probably sounded like…something he did not want to sound like. But it was kind of confusing sitting here staring into Flint’s sympathetic green-gold eyes, hearing that concern in his voice. It was hard to remember that they were friendly, not friends. In fact, they were adversaries.

Except tonight, in this moment, it didn’t feel like they were adversaries.

“He told me.” Flint’s smile was wry, but even that felt like something shared, like they were on the same team and everyone else was…not.

Which had to be further proof of how truly tired Zach was.

“Do they still think I’m a suspect?”

Flint shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. At this point in the investigation, everyone’s a suspect. Same with us, right? We consider everyone fair game.”

That displayed a level of tact, even sensitivity on Flint’s part that Zach wouldn’t have expected before this evening’s increasingly odd encounter.

He nodded, then admitted the thing that had been eating at him ever since they’d left the Kaschak estate. “I still can’t understand why Alton did what he did.”

“Which part?”

“They showed me the video. I can’t understand why Alton told Chico it was me.”

Flint didn’t say anything for a moment. “I guess because he wanted it to be you.” He added carefully, “As far as why he’d show Chico? Because Chico saw you turn him down. I’m guessing Beacher’s ego couldn’t take it. Not least because it didn’t happen very often.”

“Maybe we should try to find out who it was on that video.”

Flint’s brows rose. “Maybe we should.”

“If he was coercing guys into making DIY pornos, what did he do with the videos? Use them to blackmail his victims into doing…what?”

“That’s good.” Flint sounded thoughtful. “If blackmail isn’t a motive for murder, I don’t know what is.”

“Chico probably knows who some of those other possible victims are. He might have shared that with the police or he might have just focused on throwing me under the bus.”

“When you’re a bodyguard, losing clients isn’t exactly a career booster. He needs a scapegoat.”