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.