Page 49 of In the Air Tonight

Neisy hadn’t stood a chance.

I go to filing cabinets in another room to find the original case file. I take it with me to my office and close the door. I pour my fourth cup of coffee of the day and open the file, which dates back to my father’s era, before the department was fully computerized. My dad was meticulous. We’ve always said his handwriting could’ve been a font.

Responded to a phone call from Navy Captain Rick Sutton, who reported his daughter, Denise, was sexually assaulted by Ryder Elliott in the woods near my home three weeks ago. The alleged assault took place at a party hosted by my son, Houston, while my wife and I were out of town. Captain Sutton brought his daughter to the station the next day. She gave the following account:

I attended the party hosted by my friend Houston Rafferty, who I worked with at The Daily Catch the previous summer. During the party, Ryder Elliott asked me if he could talk to me about his girlfriend, Louisa, and led me away from the group, down a pathway to an area with a lot of trees and brush. I asked him what he wanted to tell me about Louisa, and he said I knew what he really wanted. I didn’t know. I’d never spoken to him before, except to say hello a couple of times. I knew he played several sports and about him and Louisa and that she’d been ill. I was in a class with her and his brother Camden, but I’d never had any other interactions with either of the Elliott brothers. I asked Ryder to explain what he meant, and he said I’d been driving him crazy with the way I looked at him at school. When I asked him how I’d been looking at him, he said like I wanted to fuck him. I said I didn’t, and we argued about that. He insisted it was true and said the other guys call me a cock tease. I told him I barely knew him so why would I want to fuck him. Then he moved so quickly that he caught me by surprise, knocking me over. He came down on top of me and pulled at my clothes. I was wearing a dress. He tore at myunderwear and pulled it down. I screamed at him to stop and for help, but no one could hear me. The music was loud and there were so many people that no one could hear.

The rest is almost too much to bear. When Ryder was finished, he got up and walked away, leaving her there bleeding and crying. She reported how she eventually was able to get herself up and back to her car, which had been parked a quarter mile or so from the house.

I finally get up to leave the office, feeling weighted down by guilt and regret. Neisy was my friend. Why didn’t I come to her defense when she needed me? I worked with her for a full summer, had a fun rapport with her and would’ve asked her out if she hadn’t been so much younger than me. Rather than date her, we’d had a big brother-little sister vibe. When she accused Ryder of rape, my first thought was no way, especially since he’d been with Louisa for years by then and had seen her through a terrible illness with loyalty and faithfulness.

I couldn’t reconcile that guy with the person Neisy described in her complaint, which I was privy to because I asked my dad to share it with me. I’d been deeply upset to learn weeks later that someone might’ve been sexually assaulted at my party. I remember thinking at the time that if the perpetrator had been anyone else, I would’ve believed her.

But Ryder Elliott? No. I refused to believe it was possible, and my brother and our other friends felt the same.

Dallas knew him well and was adamant he never would’ve done such a thing. I remember him having a screaming fight in defense of Ryder with my dad, who’d had no choice but to investigate the charges.

Dad had been furious with me for hosting a party with underage drinking while my parents were away on a badly needed vacation. That was the one time my dad and I were seriously at odds. His disappointment had crushed me.

I remember being a little pissed at Neisy for making trouble for me with my dad by reporting something that’d happened at a party I wasn’t supposed to have had. My parents never would’ve known about it if she hadn’t accused Ryder, which I knew then was deeply unfair, but I couldn’t help how I felt.

That was a difficult time for everyone involved, but no one more so than Neisy, who’d left town shortly after and as far as I know, had returned only for the preliminary hearing that resulted in Ryder walking free.

I want to talk to my dad about this new development, so I head to the house where I was raised with my brother and sister. The drive home is short, through the winding rural roads that make up my hometown. Not much has changed here, and we like it that way. You won’t see any sort of chain businesses mixed in with the farm stands, antique stores or coffee shops. We’re all about bucolic beauty in Land’s End, which has become an exclusive enclave in the last ten years. Many of the coastal homes are owned by summer people and sit empty the rest of the year.

Being a police officer in this town can be boring at times. Not so much for me now that I’m the chief, which happened four years ago. Many of the younger officers don’t last long and go looking for something more exciting than our corner of the world.

I don’t blame them for moving on. After I finished college in Boston, I worked for two years in a suburb outside the city. Then I came back here. I’ve never wanted to live anywhere but LE.

It’s home.

I take a left turn down a winding dirt road that leads to my original home, where my parents still live after retiring years ago—my dad from the police department and my mom as principal at the town’s elementary school.

These days, they tend to their horses, their garden and the five grandchildren my brother and sister have provided.

I park my department-issued SUV behind my dad’s old Ford truck and head inside.

“Knock, knock,” I say as I step inside.

“No need to knock,” my mom says as she does every time I come by and insist on knocking. She raises her cheek for a kiss. “This is a nice surprise. Are you hungry?”

“Always.”

“We had pot roast tonight. I’ll fix you a plate.”

“Is he eating my leftovers again?” Dad asks as he comes into the room.

“Hush, Chuck. There’s plenty left for you.”

Their banter has always amused me and made me want what they have. I haven’t found it yet, but I haven’t given up. As I cruise into my late thirties, however, the prospects seem to be dimming.

Dad cracks open beers for each of us. “What’s going on?”

“I wanted to run something by you.”

“I can go watch ‘Jeopardy’ if you want to talk to Dad in private,” Mom says as she wipes down the counters.

“You can stay. I’d welcome your take on it, too, but as always, it’s highly confidential.”

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