First Star I See Tonight

19

The warrant had come from the city of Chicago. A woman had accused Coop of sexually assaulting her at the club last Wednesday night.

Deidre was regarding him with something like repulsion.

“Don’t be stupid,” Piper said harshly. “He didn’t assault anybody. He’s been set up.”

Coop gazed over at her, his expression unreadable.

The officers led him away in handcuffs, which would have devastated Piper if she weren’t so furious. She had his attorney on the phone before the squad car pulled out of the driveway.

Deidre’s hand shook as she poured herself a fresh drink. “I-I can’t imagine him doing anything like that.”

“Professional athletes always believe they’re above the law.” Noah seemed almost smug. “The more I learn about the world of Cooper Graham, the less I like it.”

And that’s when Piper remembered.

ararat.

Coop was arrested in the suburbs instead of the city, so it would take hours for him to post bail and get released, but Piper wouldn’t be at the police station waiting for him. Instead, she’d pulled a black hoodie over her head and was breaking into Noah Parks’s house in the city.

The lock was relatively simple to pick, but the renovated Streeterville greystone had an alarm system, and its banshee screeches gave her only a few minutes to search before the police showed up.

The interior smelled of fresh paint. Timer lights in the hallway and the living room gave her enough illumination to see where she was going.

ararat.

She’d spotted that license plate on Thursday night when Deidre had visited Spiral and Piper had walked her to her car. On Piper’s way back to the club, a red Lexus had sped past her so recklessly that she’d shot the car the bird. That red Lexus had the license plate ararat. The mountain where the ark had come to rest.

Noah’s ark.

Noah Parks had followed Deidre to the club that night. Maybe he’d been worried about her safety, but Deidre was more than capable of taking care of herself. More likely, he hadn’t wanted her out of his sight. And after watching him with her earlier and seeing his barely concealed dislike of Coop, Piper thought she knew why.

The minutes raced by too quickly. His laptop wasn’t in his office at the rear of the house. She raced upstairs and poked her head into the bedrooms. Parks was too much of a workaholic not to have a computer in his house, but where was it? And what was on it?

She’d pickpocketed Noah’s cell phone right after the police had left and hidden away with it in the first-floor powder room. Like a lot of busy people who are always on their phones, he’d neglected to bother with a password, and she’d quickly found and memorized one interesting piece of information. But she needed more, and she could stay in Deidre’s powder room for only so long. Leaving the phone on the patio where he’d think he’d dropped it, she’d excused herself from spending the night, rushed back to the city, and now here she was, undertaking her first break-in.

She ran back downstairs again, the scream of the alarm system frying her nerves. She couldn’t afford to stay any longer. One more sweep. She cut through the living room, the den. Nothing. She had to get out before the police arrived. Now. She passed through the kitchen again. And there it was. On the granite counter. She grabbed it, ran out through the rear and down the alley to her car.

Once she got back to her office and stopped shaking, she made a pot of strong coffee to keep herself alert. Then she settled behind her desk and began the work of cloning the laptop’s hard drive.

An hour later, she was in.

Her cell rang. She jerked her head up from her desk and fumbled to pick it up. Eight a.m. She’d fallen asleep less than an hour ago. “’Lo,” she croaked.

“Nice to know how much you care.” The uncharacteristically sulky note in Coop’s voice reassured her as nothing else could have.

“Yeah, well, I had things to do, and I called your attorney, didn’t I?” She grabbed her mug, took a slug of cold coffee, and shuddered.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?”

She rubbed her eyes. “About what?”

“I’ve been accused of a sex crime!” he exclaimed. “I’m currently out of jail on bond!”

“Oh, that.”

“You think this is some kind of a joke?”

“Don’t even go there.” The anger she’d barely been able to suppress boiled to the surface. “Thousands of women won’t report they’ve been raped because they’re afraid they’ll be called liars. And then there’s this. It’s too much, Coop. I swear I am going to nail whoever accused you.”

There was such a long pause she thought he’d hung up. But then she heard him clear his throat. His voice sounded strange. Tight. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What have you been up to?” He didn’t say it in a casual, What’s up? way. More of an I want a full report way.

“I’ve got things to do. I’ll call you later.” She disconnected and shut down her cell. So much for teamwork.

As she tried to release the crick in her neck, she turned her attention back to her computer, where news bulletins were already broadcasting word of Coop’s arrest. The injustice brought her fully awake.

In the trash folder on Noah’s laptop, she’d found an e-mail from Bendah’s Bug Farm. Thank you for your order… As satisfying as that had been, it paled in comparison to what else she’d discovered. When she’d swiped Noah’s cell, she’d found a phone number he called at night, sometimes as late as two in the morning. The number had shown up so frequently that she’d ignored every ethical principle she believed in and broken into his house to steal the computer she hoped would be there, a computer that would give her even more information about the secret life of Noah Parks.

A few hours of cyber-digging had given her what she wanted-a link between the number and a name-Rochelle Mauvais, née Ellen Englley. There’d been no photos on his phone but there were plenty on the computer she’d stolen. A young, very pretty blonde. A couple of photos showed her with Noah, but most of them were of Ellen/Rochelle alone… and undressed. Then, at dawn, she’d hit the mother lode. A mysterious ten-thousand-dollar bank transfer made two days ago.

The remnants of the adrenaline buzz still hadn’t faded. Nothing since she’d taken over the agency had been as satisfying as the work she’d just done with her fingers and a keyboard. But that sense of accomplishment couldn’t erase the knowledge that Noah Parks wasn’t the only criminal around.

She gazed across the office at her framed True Detective posters. She’d never imagined herself as a lawbreaker, yet that’s what she was. She’d turned her back on her own principles and ignored the law, as if it had been written for other people. When this was over, she needed to take a long, unwelcome look at what she was becoming.

“I’m not asking you to give me her name,” she told Eric as she spoke to him on the phone a few minutes later. “All I’m asking is for you to see if the name I gave you matches the name of the woman who accused Coop. A simple yes or no.”

He called her back ten minutes later. “How did you get this information?”

Instead of answering his question, she gave him Ellen/Rochelle’s address and told him to meet her there in half an hour.

The interview with Ellen was short and brutal. Ellen, it turned out, had started working as an escort to pay off her college loans but quickly discovered escort work was a more lucrative way to earn a living than the jobs she could get with her bachelor’s degree in communications. Noah had been an early client. Although Piper had no proof that the ten thousand dollars he’d transferred from his bank had ended up in Ellen’s account, she had enough details to act as though she did, and Ellen crumbled, admitting she’d lied about Coop.

This, she thought as Eric led Noah’s mistress to the police station, is for all the women who told the truth but nobody believed them.

Deidre had returned to the city from the farm. Piper called her office and made an appointment for three o’clock. That gave her just enough time to shower and change. As she left her office, she imagined the phalanx of reporters camped outside Coop’s condo and wished she could throw herself between him and every one of them.

Her urge to protect him was ferocious enough to scare her. She tried to plan out her upcoming meeting with Deidre, but she was so muzzy from lack of sleep that she took an automatic detour through Lincoln Square. And there, sitting by the fountain, was an elderly man wearing a horned Viking’s helmet.

A horned, Minnesota Vikings fan helmet.

She couldn’t deal with this now, but instead of driving away, she wheeled into a no parking space, jumped out of her car, and strode toward him. He didn’t spot her until she was about thirty feet away, and then he sprang up and began to run. She dashed in front of him. “Police!”

Depressing how hard it was to go straight once you started stepping over the line.

As soon as she cornered him, she saw he wasn’t Howard Berkovitz. His face was thinner, his hair grayer. But they were the same height, the same build, about the same age, and there was a strong resemblance.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, with the familiar accent of someone born and raised in Chicago.

“I know you didn’t.” She tried to look friendly so he’d see she wasn’t dangerous. “And I’m not really a police officer.”

“Then why was you running after me? I saw you before. You’re the one who was chasing me a coupla weeks back.”

“It’s a long story. I’m harmless, I swear. Could you do me a huge favor and let me buy you a cup of coffee so I can explain?”

“I don’t like to talk to people.”

“I’ll do the talking. Please. I’ve barely slept, and I’ve had a horrible few days, and I’d really appreciate it.”

His eyes narrowed, drawing his fuzzy gray eyebrows closer together. “Okay, but no funny stuff.”

“Promise.”

They were soon settled at one of the tables in a Western Avenue coffee shop with purple walls and weathered hardwood floors. She didn’t ask any questions, not even his name, and definitely not why he chose to walk around Lincoln Square wearing sports fan headgear. Instead, she told him about Berni.

“And this woman thought I was her dead husband?” he said when she was done. “She sounds like a cuckoo to me.”

“Berni’s eccentric, but she’s not crazy. She just misses her husband.”

He rubbed his chin, dislodging the Vikings helmet enough to make the horns crooked. “I guess I can understand. I lost my wife last year.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I should have appreciated her more.”

Piper kept her expression neutral. Time was ticking away. She needed to finish this quickly if she hoped to get a shower before she showed up in Deidre’s office. She confronted the elephant in the coffee shop. “You must be a real football fan.”

“More baseball. I love the Sox. You can take the kid outta the South Side, but you can’t take the South Side outta the kid.”

“I see.” She didn’t, and she nodded toward his headgear.

“Oh, I gotcha. You’re talking about this?” He pulled off the horned Vikings helmet and set it on the table between them. “I wear stuff like this to keep people from bothering me. Since Ellie died, I don’t like to talk to anybody.”

Piper was starting to get the picture. “The Vikings helmet, the cheesehead-they keep people away.”

He gave a satisfied nod. “Because they think I’m crazy.”

“Like you think Berni’s crazy?”

He thought it over. “I’m a fair guy. That’s a good point.”

“Would you be willing to talk to Berni? The three of us could meet here.”

“I don’t like to talk to people,” he repeated, in case she’d missed the point the other two times he’d mentioned it.

“That’s okay. Berni loves to talk. And all you’d have to do is nod. I think she needs to see you so she can let go of Howard.”

He stared into his coffee mug. “It’s hard to let go.”

“I can imagine it is.”

“I gotta say it sounds interesting. Most things are boring these days. Now when I was working, it was different…”

Although he said he didn’t like to talk, once he got started, he didn’t want to stop. His name was Willie Mahoney. He was a Chicago native who’d worked for the gas company until his retirement. His wife of forty-eight years had been a “spark plug.” His kids were grown and lived out of state. He was lonely. By the time he wound down, Piper had a parking ticket, and she’d lost her chance to shower.

She drove directly to Lakeview and picked up Coop in the alley four doors down from his condo. The image of him being led away in handcuffs was still seared on her brain, and she had to clutch the steering wheel to keep from hugging him. Fortunately, he was in a sour mood. “I don’t enjoy sneaking out of my own house.”

“You’d rather join that media convention in your front yard?”

He grunted something and folded his big frame into the Sonata’s passenger seat. “What’s this about, and where are we going?”

She dodged both questions. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“Where did you get that idea?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Barely. His eyes were bloodshot and his jaw scruffy. She wanted to comfort him-reassure him-but he wouldn’t appreciate it. “I hope you looked better when they took your mug shot.”

He almost smiled. “You have no pity.”

The last thing he wanted from her, she knew.

“And you’re not exactly looking you’re best,” he said. “As a matter of fact-”

“It’s been a long couple of days.” She flipped on KISS FM and turned up the volume to end the conversation.

She waited until she was ready to pull into the parking lot behind the building that housed Joss Investments to explain. “We’re meeting Deidre.”

“So I see.” He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t want to meet Deidre.”

“Teamwork.”

“There isn’t any teamwork happening here. I have no idea what you’re doing, and you haven’t enlightened me.”

She took in all his weary gorgeousness. “This is the last time I’ll ask you to trust me. I promise.”

He shoved open the car door. “Why the hell not? What’s another miserable day?”

She collected the laptop from the trunk. He must have thought it was hers because he didn’t ask about it. The laptop, however, was the first thing Noah spotted as Deidre’s secretary let them into her office. He came to his feet from the side table where he and Deidre had been going over some files.

Deidre greeted Coop with a cool nod, her previous warmth gone, and moved toward her desk, as if she wanted a barrier between them. “You didn’t tell me Cooper was coming, Piper. You led me to believe we’d only be meeting with you.”

“Is that what you thought? My mistake.”

Coop positioned himself between the door and an oil painting of Deidre’s father. Crossing his arms over his chest, he rested one shoulder against the wall, letting Piper take the lead. She wanted so badly to do this for him, to lay it out at his feet like a Super Bowl trophy. She handed the laptop over to Noah. “I think this belongs to you. It’s the oddest thing. Somebody left it on my doorstep last night. And don’t worry. I backed it up.”

Noah’s lower lip thinned as the corners of his mouth contracted, but he couldn’t directly accuse her of stealing without casting suspicion on himself.

Deidre steepled her fingers on the desktop. “What’s this about, Piper?”

“It’s about your right-hand man here. He’s a criminal. I’m guessing you didn’t know that?”

Noah turned vicious. “Get out of here.”

Deidre’s bewildered expression looked strange on the face of a woman accustomed to being in control. Piper confronted Noah. “Does the name Ellen Englley ring a bell?”

Noah stalked toward Deidre’s desk. “I’m calling security.”

“You know her better as Rochelle Mauvais,” Piper said. “It’s a great hooker name.”

The color drained from his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Deidre had come to her feet, her hands braced on the desktop.

“Ellen is Noah’s longtime… girlfriend,” Piper explained. “She’s also the woman who accused Coop of rape. Interesting, right?”

Coop straightened from his position against the wall.

Noah leaned over and hit the intercom on Deidre’s desk. “Get security up here!”

“Ellen told me all about it,” Piper said.

Deidre looked dazed. “Noah, is this true?”

“No! Of course, it’s not true.”

“She’s with the police right now,” Piper said. “Along with a copy of your computer’s hard drive.”

Noah bolted for the door. But Coop was too quick for him. He threw a block that sent Noah staggering backward. Before he could fall, Coop grabbed him and shoved him down on the office couch. “Let’s hear what Piper has to say.”

Piper had a lot to say. “Noah paid Ms. Englley ten thousand dollars to accuse Coop of rape. Noah wanted to destroy him. Get him out of your life. He even used a drone to spy on him.” Noah slumped forward on the couch, his head in his hands. Deidre stood frozen as Piper went on. “The police are going to find that hard drive very interesting. You really should empty your e-mail trash folder, although dumping the cockroaches at the club is small potatoes compared to the rest.”

“You stole it,” he said into his hands.

“Why, Noah?” Deidre cried. “Why would you do something like this?”

He set his jaw, refusing to speak, so Piper answered for him. “He wants to be the most important man in your life. He got used to the way you relied on him after your husband died. Maybe he hoped to be the next Mr. Joss, but whether he wanted that or not, he had to make sure he stayed the most important man in your life. Your personal interest in Coop was threatening that. He wanted both Coop and Spiral out of the picture.”

Coop witnessed it all, saying nothing.

Deidre sank back into her chair. She put her head in her hands, then slowly lifted it. “How could you do this?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Noah’s face twisted bitterly. “I couldn’t stop you from marrying Sam, even though anybody could see he wasn’t good enough for you. I wasn’t going to lose you to Graham, too.”

“I trusted you more than I trusted anyone.”

“I needed more time!” he exclaimed. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Loved Joss Investments was more like it.

The door shot open and two security guards charged in.

Deidre came up from the chair, in full command. “Put him in his office and keep him there until the police get here.” As they led him away, she went to Coop. “I don’t know how I can ever make this up to you.”

Piper had a few ideas, and she hated every one of them.

Coop got behind the wheel of Piper’s Sonata himself and headed toward Spiral. “How did you get his computer?”

Piper rested her head and shut her eyes. Words were pressing at her lips, emotions churning-thoughts and feelings so contradictory, so painful, she couldn’t let them escape. “I can’t talk to you until I get some sleep.”

“I need answers.”

“I’m serious, Coop. I haven’t slept since Sunday night, and I need to go to bed.”

“Fine. I’ll be with my lawyers most of tomorrow, but I’ll pick you up for dinner at five o’clock.”

She opened her eyes. “What are you? Eighty years old? Who goes out to dinner that early?”

“You’re bitchy when you don’t sleep.”

“Got it. Old Country Buffet at five o’clock.”

“Five o’clock because I want plenty of time to get you drunk.”

“In that case…” She shut her eyes again.

By the time Piper awoke the next day, the police had issued a statement saying Coop had been falsely accused. They didn’t name Noah but merely referred to “a person with a grudge against the former Stars quarterback.” By noon, the local channels were showing footage of Ellen Englley with a hoodie pulled over her head trying to duck the news cameras. Piper gazed at the screen in disgust. Noah’s mistress would probably end up with a reality show.

Coop’s attorney held a short press conference at three o’clock where, among other things, Piper learned that Coop was a long-standing member of the NFL’s task force on sexual violence. His attorney read a statement from Coop about the serious impact false accusations have on real rape victims. How could Piper not want to protect someone like that?

Eric called with the unwelcome news that Noah Parks had an airtight alibi for both the night Coop had been attacked outside his condo and the night Karah had been forced off the road. Piper assumed Noah had hired someone to carry out the first attack, but she’d been counting on him being behind the wheel of the mystery vehicle that had gone after the Tesla. Unless the police found another connection, Noah could get off with a slap on the wrist.

She made herself focus on the long-sleeved, bittersweet-orange knit dress she’d unearthed from the back of the closet. She’d last worn it at a college friend’s wedding a couple of years ago. The boatneck framed her long neck, something she generally didn’t think about, but for tonight, she wanted to feel at least halfway pretty.

Coop had traded in his jeans and boots for an open-collar white dress shirt, gray pants, and a darker gray sports coat that fit his body as if he’d grown it there. Appreciation glinted in his eyes. “Damn, Pipe, you really do know how to look like a girl.”

“I told you I could,” she said. “Where are we going to dinner?”

“Drinks first. This great new place I’ve heard about.”

“You’re going to be mobbed.”

“All taken care of.”

He was right. The great new place turned out to be right below them, which explained their early date time.

Even though Spiral wouldn’t open for another four hours, soft light glowed from inside the cube-shaped cocktail tables, and the suspended rods glimmered like golden stalactites above the bar. The leather banquettes were welcoming, and music played quietly in the background. No one was around.

Coop stepped behind the bar. “We have three hours until the staff shows up,” he said. “The place is locked tight for now, and I gave strict orders that nobody can get in until eight.”

“Not much prep time before the club opens.”

“They’ll cope.” He uncorked a very expensive cabernet and filled two goblets.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be a team player,” she said as she slid up onto a barstool. “But you weren’t exactly available for consultation.”

“You’re forgiven.”

She held up the wine goblet he gave her. “Here’s to being innocent.”

“Not in that dress.”

The dress’s wide neckline extended all the way to her collarbones, but the rest of it hugged her body. “I was talking about you.”

“I know.” He smiled. “How did you figure it out?”

She told him about Noah’s license plate.

“Not much to go on.”

“And intuition. He hovered around Deidre, and there was something about his attitude toward you that felt more personal than professional.”

He rested his hand on the bar and gave her one of his brain-piercing looks. “How did you get his computer?”

He’d brought up the thing she most didn’t want to look at. “Not legally.” She stared into her wineglass. “I’m turning into somebody I don’t respect. One of those people so focused on the end goal that they don’t care how they reach it.”

“It’s called passion.”

She had another word for it. Unethical.

Coop watched her sip her wine. She wasn’t happy, and he wanted her to be. She should be.

He took a platter of meats, cheeses, olives, and summer rolls from the refrigerator under the bar and carried it to the closest banquette. She followed him with their wine goblets, steady as can be on those stilettos she detested. She hadn’t believed he’d assaulted anybody. Not for a moment. She’d been impatient when he’d pressed her about it-as if he were wasting her time by bringing it up. No one had ever had such blind faith in him. What the hell was a man supposed to do with a woman like this?

She slid into the banquette, her skirt riding up on her thighs enough for him to lose his train of thought. Even without tonight’s mascara, her eyelashes were long and thick, and her glossy cinnamon mouth was an invitation. He loved her face best scrubbed clean, but he also loved knowing that she’d bothered fixing herself up just for him.

“This feels ceremonial,” she said.

“It is. A celebration.” She’d put her investigator’s license in jeopardy doing whatever it was she’d done, and that bothered him even more than knowing he’d needed someone else to solve his problems.

“You don’t look happy,” she said.

“I’m very happy.”

“Then why are you frowning?”

“Because I’m trying not to act like the animal I am by picturing what’s under your dress. I’m not proud of myself.”

She smiled.

He set down his drink. “Let’s dance.”

“Really?”

“Why not?”

She took his hand and slid out of the banquette. He led her to the floor. It was odd to realize this was the first time he’d been able to dance in his own club strictly for pleasure.

And pleasure it was. The sweet fit of her body against his own was almost painful, although he wished when he’d programmed the music, he’d avoided this off-the-charts sentimental Ed Sheeran ballad. On the other hand, it suited his mood.

“This is just weird,” she said, resting the top of her head against the side of his jaw and leaning even closer into him.

“If only you weren’t such a romantic.”

She laughed. Why did he keep worrying about leading her on when she had her feet so firmly planted on the ground and her head so far below the clouds?

They danced in silence, their hands clasped, their bodies swaying, breathing in each other’s air. The Sheeran song ended and Etta James began to sing “At Last.” He drew her back to the banquette.

She nibbled at the appetizers, taking those dainty bites that always threw him off. He needed to tell her what her trust meant to him. Instead, he asked her to take him through everything she’d done from the time the police had carted him away to their meeting with Deidre.

“I’ll give you the best first.” She told him about finding the man Mrs. Berkovitz thought was her dead husband.

“Incredible,” he said as she finished. “And how much did Mrs. B. pay you to do this job for her?”

“A hundred dollars. I was planning to take her out to dinner, but now I’m hoping I can take them both out.”

“You have a good heart, Piper Dove.”

She speared a cheese cube. “And flexible ethics.”

He rose to fetch the bottle of cabernet from the bar. “Go ahead. Get it all out.”

“I don’t want to.”

“That bad?”

“Depends on how you feel about breaking and entering, not to mention burglary. I also lied to your accuser about the money transfer, but I don’t feel bad about that. Then there’s your ring…”

He set the bottle on the table. “Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself?”

“The end justifies the means? I’d like to believe that, but I can’t.”

“You’re a high achiever, Pipe. It’s the way you’re made.” The way Duke Dove had made her.

She gave him a bright, phony smile. “No more depressing talk. Tell me about jail. Did anybody try to make you his bitch?”

“I was held in a conference room filled with cops who wanted a replay of last year’s Super Bowl. So that would be a no.”

“Disappointing.”

He shoved an olive in her mouth.

The music picked up tempo, and they went back to the dance floor. Before long, she’d kicked off her heels, and he got rid of his suit coat. As the tunes grew more erotic, so did their dancing. Pharrell to Rihanna; Bowie to Beyoncé. Piper on her toes. Pressing that sweet butt hard against him. Rotating, then spinning around to face him, her face flushed, her lids heavy. Rotating again. Butt pressing… If she didn’t stop, he’d have a repeat performance of their first time, so he grabbed her by the arms and pressed her against the wall.

He kissed her. Open mouth. Kissed her and kissed her and kissed her again-mouth, neck, back to her mouth. Long, deep explorations. The two of them making out as if this were as far as they could go. Devouring each other. Clothes sticking to their skin. One song after another.

Marvin Gaye… “Let’s get it on…”

Missy Elliott… “Let me work it…”

And still they kissed. A make-out session for the ages.

Do it all night… All night…

The skirt of her dress was in his fists. Shoved to her waist. His belt opening under her palms.

How does it feel… It feels…

Underpants. Zipper. Wool and nylon scattering on the dance floor.

Up against the wall. In the hall… Hot against the wall.

Freefall…

Her legs around his hips. Butt in his hands. Wet beneath his fingers. Inside her.

Work it. Work it, work it.

Inside.

Like that. And that.

And that…

Her knit dress had survived the thrilling abuse, but her underpants hadn’t, and since it felt weird to wear a bra without underpants, she abandoned lingerie altogether and pulled her dress back on over her bare skin. She touched her lips. They felt puffy. She’d be sore tomorrow, and not only her lips.

Her teeth started to chatter, and her legs weren’t working right. She sank down on the ladies’ room couch.

The worst thing in the world had happened to her.