All Is Not Forgotten(65)

There was also the issue of my son and his name being on the list of boys to be interviewed. I had timed this meticulously.

“It has occurred to me that you should have my son on your list,” I said. I’d made the call the past Friday afternoon. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of this sooner, but he is on the swim team and he was at the party.”

Parsons, as expected, had not looked at his list for the following week. Really? He said. Let me see.… Oh yeah. We have him. He’s scheduled for next Thursday. We’re having to make appointments because everyone wants to come with a lawyer.

“I’m sure. My wife does as well, I’m afraid. I have no problem with any of this. You should absolutely cross every t and dot every i. I want nothing less for the Kramers.”

Parsons was quiet for a moment. He was thinking. I suppose they know your son … uh, Jason, was there? The Kramers, I mean?

“Well, I don’t really know. I try to keep my professional life separate from my personal affairs. I suppose I should tell them, or at least Tom. I’ll take care of that right away.”

That had been the end of it. My wife called the station and got the appointment moved again to the following week. I mentioned the interview in passing to Tom at one of our sessions. I waited until he was worked up about the police being incompetent for not finding the blue sweatshirt.

We were now past that. We were on to Bob Sullivan. I had managed to kick the can down the road. But the road was not endless.

Alan, we did some checking into Sullivan. Do you have anything else on your end?

“Well, actually, I do, but it’s really quite uncertain. I don’t want to jump the gun.”

Look … I need whatever you have. Fuck … this thing is spinning out of control.

“What’s happened? What did you find?”

Sometimes life just hands you a gift. You don’t know when it’s going to happen. You can’t count on it. But when it happens, you come very close to believing there’s a god.

Uh … man. I don’t even want to say it. I have your word it will remain between us until I have enough to question him?

“Of course.”

Okay. Spring 1982. Fort Lauderdale. There’s a file that made it to Skidmore, where Sullivan went to college. Nothing came of it. No charges. Nothing like that. But it involves a sexual incident. The victim was a sixteen-year-old. Local girl out with her friends, looking to party with college kids on their spring break. Sounds like it might have been a case of morning-after regret. There’s a photo … tight little tube top, miniskirt, black eyeliner … you get the picture, right?

“Yes.”

Sullivan’s parents got him a lawyer. Charges were dropped on condition his college was informed. It’s nothing. And between you and me, if Tom Kramer wasn’t such a loose cannon, this file would be in the shredder. This is the kind of thing that ruins a man’s life. And it’s apples and oranges.

Oh, what a gift, this wind!

“Well … I can see your dilemma. How can I help you?”

Parsons sighed. I could hear his exasperation with me. I need to know why you set me out on this path. I need to know what Jenny Kramer remembers. I can’t go at this guy with a thirty-three-year-old allegation that never even led to charges. It’ll seem like a persecution.

“But isn’t it your job to follow every lead, even if it takes you to a man like Bob Sullivan? Maybe there’s more to find. He obviously has some appetites. Possibly control issues. He’s an aggressive man. You can tell that from his success, his ambitions.”

You want me to go at him with that? Seriously? Well, it makes sense that you would brutally rape a local teenager—after all, you’re ambitious and successful—

“Detective,” I interrupted him, “let me ask you this: Wasn’t the first thing you did on this case to look for anyone in and around Fairview with a sex offense? That and the blue Civic? If this college record had been an actual charge, wouldn’t you have at least asked him politely for an alibi so you could rule him out? Surely he would understand that, and gladly provide one. You’ve done more than that with half the teenage boys in this town, haven’t you?”

It’s not the same. The boys were at the party. We already knew that. How am I gonna explain my reasons for digging up his records? He’ll hire his own investigators. A team of lawyers. This whole thing will be out of my hands then. And over what?

“But he’s running for office. I’m shocked the press haven’t already found it. Let him believe someone handed it to you.”

I don’t know. Seems like a stretch. It’s the state legislature. His opponent is an eighty-year-old probate judge with a couple of nickels to rub together. No … even if I don’t tell him why I need the alibi, I gotta have something. Don’t tell me what it is. Just tell me there’s something if I need it. Tell me you didn’t send me on this goose chase without a really good reason.

I pretended to mull this over. I sighed. I hemmed and hawed. Parsons was very nervous.

“There is something. It’s not reliable. It would get torn apart in court. But it certainly is enough.”

I don’t think this is what Parsons wanted to hear. I think he wanted a reason to close the door on Bob Sullivan. Parsons’s zeal for this case came and went with the turn of the spotlight. When it was shining outside of Fairview, he was a tiger on the hunt. I think about him in that car, dying to pounce on Cruz Demarco. When Demarco came up with an alibi, Parsons went back at the swim team and the search for the blue sweatshirt, but with far less ambition. He did not even know the names of the boys on the list. He had been surprised to hear about Jason. What kind of detective work is that? I did not know why this was. Perhaps he didn’t want to muddy his own pond. For weeks, he’d been doing what he had to do to keep Tom Kramer satisfied—and no more. Although Tom never was satisfied.