First Star I See Tonight

  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 roa
d. 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.”