Page 51 of In the Air Tonight

“Not always. I had the party in the first place, when you guys were away.”

“You wouldn’t have sat on something like this for all that time.”

I release a deep sigh. “We all like to think we’d do the right thing in any situation, but honestly, until we’re in it with all the various consequences staring us in the face, we can’t say for sure what we’d do.”

“You’re right,” Mom says, frowning. “People always like to think they know what they’d do if such and such thing happened to them. But we can’t know for sure until it does.”

“That’s why I want to give her the benefit of the doubt. It’s not easy to come forward to accuse a kid you grew up with of a heinous crime. I think it matters more that she came forward than it does that she waited.”

“The AG may not agree,” Dad says. “Before you get too far down the road with this thing, make sure you consult with them.”

“Of course. That’s on the list for first thing tomorrow morning. If they’re on board, my next move will be to track down Neisy.”

“I don’t envy you this, son,” Dad says. “If you decide to move forward, it’s not going to be easy. People think the world of Ryder.”

“I know they do. Hell, I always have. But I can’t un-ring this bell now that I know there’s a witness.”

“No, you can’t.”

Chapter 12

Blaise

NOW

I follow the directions to the place Houston told me about and drive down a long driveway lined by stone walls on both sides to a large Colonial-style house painted white with black shutters. As I park the car, a man comes out of the house wearing faded jeans and a flannel shirt. I notice he’s barefooted.

“Help you with something?”

I get out of the car. “Houston Rafferty sent me. He said you have short-term rentals.”

“I do.” He extends a hand. “Jack Olsen.”

I shake his hand as I realize he’s handsome with golden brown eyes to match dark blond hair that needed to be cut weeks ago. “Blaise Merrick.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” He gestures for me to follow him around the house, which gives me pause until I remember that Houston sent me here. That hesitation comes straight from what I witnessed on that long-ago night. Trust issues have caused me no end of difficulty in my sporadic dealings with men.

“Are you coming?” Jack asks, glancing over his shoulder.

“I’m coming.”

He leads me to the back of the property where three shingled cottages are positioned in a row along yet another stone wall. “Each has a bed, sofa, kitchen and bathroom. Our season is over now, so you can have your pick.”

“How much?”

“A hundred a week?”

I do some quick math to determine if I can swing that and my rent in New York without working for a while. I’ve got some savings, but it won’t last long. Thank goodness for credit cards.

“That sounds great, thank you.”

“Any friend of Houston’s is a friend of mine,” he says with a warm smile. “Never hurts to have the police chief owe me a favor.”

And he’s a bit charming, too, not that I care about such things. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”

He shrugs as he unlocks the door to the middle cabin. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have bookings until Thanksgiving, and it’s only for one of them. Take a look.”

As I cross the threshold, I’m greeted by the scent of lemons. “This is very cute.”

---