Chapter Nine
Piper
Piper Quinn had spent eleven days being told she controlled too much.
By noon, she was running a forensic investigation from the back room of Briar Bean with three laptops, six phones, two hockey players, one event director, and a whiteboard Tyler had stolen from the youth clinic.
Technically, borrowed.
The original heading still read:
TODAY’S GOAL: HAVE FUN AND MAKE FRIENDS
Tyler had drawn a line through it and written:
PROVE COOPER IS NOT A STALKER
Griffin stared at the board.
“You cannot leave that where customers can see it.”
Tyler capped the marker. “Transparency builds trust.”
“Put it down.”
“It is central command.”
“It has cartoon skates in the corners.”
“Morale.”
Piper reached across the table and took the marker from him.
“Both of you stop.”
They stopped.
Not because Piper had authority over Ridgeview hockey players.
Because Maren had spent the drive explaining that Piper had lost a major client, Emmett had been suspended, and everyone currently existed within what she called the Quinn Danger Radius.
Beckett had asked whether the radius came with merchandise.
He had been sent to buy sandwiches.
Emmett sat beside Piper at the long table near the rear window, his phone facedown in front of him.
He had barely spoken since receiving the suspension notice.
The silence was different from his usual silence.
Usually, Emmett’s quiet felt intentional. Solid. Like he had decided words were optional and everyone else could adjust.
This silence felt like a locked room.
Piper did not like it.
The athletic department had ordered him to attend a mandatory meeting at eight the following morning. Until then, he was suspended from all Ridgeview practices, team events, and public hockey activities.
He had walked away from the youth clinic without saying goodbye to the children.
Not because he did not care.
Because the suspension notice had arrived while he was still wearing a Ridgeview shirt, and Emmett refused to violate an instruction even when the instruction felt cruel.
Mason had chased him to the parking lot.
Piper had watched Emmett crouch beside the boy and explain that he needed to miss a few activities.
Mason asked whether Emmett had done something bad.
Emmett had said, “I made one bad choice. Someone is also saying I made others.”
Mason thought about that.
Then he handed Emmett the Team Piper and Maybe Emmett sign.
“Keep it until they figure it out.”
Emmett had folded it carefully and placed it inside his truck.
Piper had nearly cried.
She blamed dehydration.
Now Emmett stared at the fabricated parking lot video on her laptop.
The footage showed Piper pressed against her SUV while Emmett stood close enough to suggest intimacy or intimidation, depending on what the viewer already wanted to believe.
The timestamp skipped eleven minutes.
The clip ended when Owen appeared.
“Play it again,” Piper said.
Emmett looked at her. “You have watched it nine times.”
“Ten may be the useful number.”
“It is not.”
“Do you have a more useful number?”
“No.”
“Then ten.”
She pressed play.
The grainy footage began.
Piper walked toward her SUV carrying her event bag.
Emmett entered from the opposite side of the frame.
He pointed toward her rear tire.
She turned.
The video jumped.
Eleven minutes disappeared.
When the image returned, Piper was against the vehicle and Emmett stood in front of her with one hand beside her head.
Owen appeared.
The clip ended.
Piper rewound.
“What do you remember?”
“Your tire was low.”
“That part is visible.”
“I offered to change it.”
“You did change it.”
Emmett nodded.
“You argued for three minutes because you had roadside assistance.”
“It is a service I pay for.”
“They said ninety minutes.”
“I could have waited.”
“You had an outdoor ceremony setup at six the next morning.”
Piper glanced at him.
“You remember that.”
“You complained about the rental company delivering white chairs instead of natural wood.”
“They looked cheap.”
“They were chairs.”
“They were visible chairs.”
His mouth moved.
Good.
The locked door had opened half an inch.
Piper returned to the footage. “What happened after you changed the tire?”
“I washed my hands at the outdoor sink.”
“Then?”
“You gave me a bottle of water.”
“Then?”
“You left.”
“I did not leave immediately.”
Emmett’s attention sharpened. “What did you do?”
“I took a call from the florist for the Founders Gala.”
“Where?”
“Beside the SUV.”
“You were alone.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
Piper opened her event calendar.
The gala planning file contained more than two hundred notes, vendor confirmations, payment records, and emergency changes.
Organization was not controlling when it produced evidence.
She searched the date.
June eighteenth.
A call entry appeared at 9:42 p.m.
LUCY MARSH, FLORAL INSTALLATION, REVISED ARCH HEIGHT
Duration: twelve minutes, nineteen seconds.
Piper turned the screen toward everyone.
“The missing eleven minutes.”
Maren leaned closer. “You were on the phone.”
“Yes.”
“Can Lucy confirm it?”
“Yes.”
Griffin pointed toward the video. “But that does not prove where you were standing.”
“My phone may.”
Piper opened her device location history.
Nothing.
She had disabled location tracking two years earlier after Owen complained that her phone constantly sent notifications asking whether she wanted to review places she had visited.
She had believed turning it off was a privacy decision.
Now she wanted every invasive data point available.
Tyler raised one hand.
“No.”
“I have not spoken.”
“You looked inspired.”
“I was wondering whether the coffee shop has exterior cameras.”
Piper stopped.
Everyone looked toward the front of Briar Bean.
The shop had changed ownership in July, but the exterior cameras had been installed years earlier after someone repeatedly stole the chalkboard sign.
Piper stood.
Emmett stood with her.
“You stay,” she said.
His expression closed.
“I can walk to the counter.”
“You are suspended from hockey activities, not movement.”
“The reporters followed us here.”
Piper glanced through the rear window.
Two vehicles remained parked across the road.
One person sat inside each, pretending not to hold a camera.
“They cannot come inside without permission,” she said.
“They can photograph through the windows.”
“Then sit somewhere they cannot see you.”
“No.”
Piper folded her arms.
Emmett mirrored her.
Griffin looked between them. “Should we leave?”
“No,” Piper and Emmett said together.
Tyler looked pleased.
Maren pulled him toward the coffee counter.
Piper lowered her voice. “You do not need to stand beside me every time I cross a room.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
“Because I want to.”
“That answer has become extremely inconvenient.”
“You keep asking questions.”
“And you keep answering honestly at the worst moments.”
“I can wait until later.”
“Men use later when they want women exhausted enough to stop asking.”
Emmett’s expression changed.
“You are right.”
Piper narrowed her eyes.
“Do not agree calmly.”
“I have been told.”
They walked toward the counter together.
The Briar Bean manager, Nora Patel, stood near the espresso machine holding a tray of blueberry muffins. She had known Piper since the first summer event and possessed the unsettling ability to remember every customer’s coffee order and romantic mistake.
Nora looked at Emmett.
Then at Piper.
Then through the front window at the waiting reporters.
“I am not asking,” she said.
“Thank you,” Piper replied.
“I will listen if you volunteer.”
“We need your security footage from June eighteenth.”
Nora set down the tray.
“That was not the direction I expected.”
Piper explained the parking lot clip, the missing eleven minutes, and the suspension.
Nora’s expression lost all amusement.
“You think someone altered footage from behind the shop?”
“Yes.”
“Those cameras automatically delete after sixty days.”
Piper’s hope collapsed.
June eighteenth had been more than two months ago.
Nora reached beneath the counter and removed a small key.
“Unless the footage was saved.”
Emmett leaned closer. “Why would it be saved?”
“Someone damaged the rear camera that night.”
Everyone became quiet.
Nora continued. “The lens was cracked. The security company pulled the full recording because the owner thought someone had thrown something at it.”
“Was anyone identified?” Piper asked.
“No. The camera failed around ten fifteen.”
“What time did I leave?”
“Near ten.”
Piper looked at Emmett.
He understood immediately.
The camera was damaged minutes after the footage used against him was supposedly recorded.
“Do you still have the file?” he asked.
“It is in the shop archive.”
“How quickly can we see it?”
Nora checked the clock.
“My lunch rush starts in twelve minutes.”
Piper leaned across the counter. “Nora.”
“I know. Go into the office.”
The office behind Briar Bean was small enough to make the equipment tent feel luxurious. Piper, Emmett, Maren, and Griffin crowded around the desk while Tyler stood in the doorway until Griffin informed him that central command had occupancy limits.
Nora accessed the archived security system.
June eighteenth appeared.
Four camera angles.
Front entrance.
Counter.
Side alley.
Rear parking lot.
The rear camera recording had been flagged and preserved.
Piper’s heartbeat accelerated.
“Play from nine thirty,” she said.
The parking lot appeared.
People moved between cars. A delivery driver carried boxes into the alley. Someone walked a large dog past the camera.
At 9:39, Piper exited Briar Bean.
She looked exhausted.
Emmett followed less than a minute later.
Onscreen, he pointed toward the tire.
The footage matched Owen’s video.
“Keep going,” Piper said.
Emmett changed the tire while Piper held her phone flashlight.
They argued.
Even without sound, the disagreement was obvious.
Piper pointed toward the road.
Emmett ignored her.
Griffin looked at him. “She was telling you to leave.”
“She said she could handle it.”
“She could.”
“The tire was flat.”
“I know.”
“Then why are we discussing this?”
Piper looked at both of them. “Please save the hockey masculinity seminar for another day.”