Red Rain: A Novel

  “He thinks he’s going to get a big grant. He’s counting on the fucking grant to keep him afloat. Then this guy Hulenberger arrives and tells him no way, José. Like a punch in the face, right? And Sutter fucking loses it. He runs outside, grabs his blowtorch from the garage, runs to the car in the driveway in a fucking insane rage and makes a mess of Hulenberger.”

  Silence for a long moment. Andy heard phones ringing down the hall. He heard Marie at the front desk laughing about something. A siren started up with a growl in a black-and-white out in the parking lot.

  “Sutter seemed distressed by the murder in his driveway. But he didn’t seem whacked-out or overly stressed,” Pinto offered. “He seemed to have it together whenever Andy and I talked to him.”

  Franks frowned at Pinto. “So?”

  “He had an excuse for the blowtorch. So we combed the house,” Big Pavano said, shaking his head. “I mean, every inch. Tore up floors and everything, Captain. No other weapon.”

  Franks turned his glare on Pavano. “So?”

  Silence again.

  Franks turned to Andy. “Any thoughts?”

  Andy realized he was tapping one shoe on the floor. He forced his leg to stop. “Maybe you’re on the right track,” he said, thinking hard. “It’s just . . . no one saw anything. His two boys, the twins . . . they were playing ball in the front yard. They didn’t see anything or anyone.”

  “Are they lying?” Franks demanded, leaning over the desk. “They’re twelve, right? Twelve-year-olds can lie, yes? If they’re frightened? If somebody scared them or threatened them?” He twirled the key chain. “Or if they want to protect their new father?”

  Andy shuffled his feet. Did Franks want them to disprove his theory? Or was he the kind of cop who only wanted to be backed up in everything he said?

  “We’ve talked to the twins twice with a psychologist in the room, Captain,” Big Pavano said. “She found no evidence—”

  “I think we have our suspect,” Franks interrupted, slapping his hands together like cymbals. “There’s a lot we don’t know—yet. But we know it’s Sutter. So let’s get back to work and fucking nail him.”

  Chief Pavano jumped up and, adjusting his black uniform tie, stepped behind the desk to get to Franks. Leaning their heads together, they started to talk in low tones. Andy and Pinto remained seated, exchanging glances.

  Finally, Andy spoke up. “You mean . . . Chaz and I . . . we’re still working this murder?”

  “We’re sticking with you,” Franks said. “You haven’t screwed it up too badly so far. I’ll be here. I’ll be watching over everything. With your captain, of course. You go ahead and nail this sonofabitch. You’ll be stars. You want to be fucking stars—don’t you?”

  Andy wasn’t so sure. He nodded to the two captains and followed Pinto out of the room. When they were back in Andy’s makeshift office, they both let out long whooshes of air, although there was no reason to feel relieved.

  “You think Sutter did it?” Andy asked.

  “I do now” was Pinto’s reply.

  PART FOUR

  42

  Breakfast Monday morning. Mark pulled on gray sweats. He thought maybe he’d run on the sand along Long Beach this morning. Downstairs, he was surprised to find Lea already in the kitchen, coffee made, a stack of frozen waffles ready for the toaster.

  She wore a short, sheer green beach cover-up over a black one-piece swimsuit. Her hair was tied loosely back with a green hair scrunchie. She turned and smiled as he entered the kitchen. When he walked over and picked up a white coffee mug from beside the coffeemaker, she raised her face to him and kissed him tenderly behind the ear.

  The kiss sent a tingle down his neck. He turned with a smile. He rubbed her cheek with two fingers. “What was that for?”

  “An apology,” she said. Her dark eyes stayed on his.

  “Apology?”

  “I’ve been . . . sort of distant since I got home. I’m sorry.”

  “I noticed,” he said. “The island?”

  She turned to the counter, lifted her mug, and took a long sip of black coffee. “I . . . I dream about it every night. Really. Every night.”

  He took her by the shoulders. “I’m really sorry.”

  “I hear those people screaming and crying. I see all those bodies. Bodies piled up everywhere. Parts of bodies. Houses all broken and destroyed. Will I ever get over it?”

  “Sure, you will,” he said. Stupid, inadequate answer. He drew her close. He kissed her. Coffee breath, but he didn’t mind. “Maybe you should see someone. I know some doctors in the city you might feel comfortable with.”

  She hesitated. “Maybe.”

  He kissed her again. Then he pulled his head back and studied her. “The twins. Daniel and Samuel. Do they keep reminding you of all the horror you saw? Are they keeping you from pushing it from your mind?”

  She raised a hand to his mouth. “Stop. Don’t even think it. You have to stop being so negative about them, Mark. I really care about them.”

  “Sorry. As long as—”

  “I’m going to be better. I promise. I’m back. You’ll see. It’s just the shock of everything. Now that the travel blog is over, I—”

  “Are you sure you want to end it? I know you’re not a quitter. You came to New York with a goal and—”

  She lowered her eyes. Her hair fell over her face. “I’m not quitting. I’m just changing.”

  “Well, at least you won’t be traveling. Nice if you’ll be home all the time.” He raised his hands to her cheeks and started to kiss her again. But a cough interrupted.

  Elena appeared in the doorway. “Yuck. Are you two kissing this early in the morning?”

  “No.” Mark lowered his hands from Lea’s shoulders and took a step back. “Well, maybe yes. So what if we were?”

  Elena didn’t answer. She pulled open the fridge door. “Isn’t there any cranberry juice? You know I hate orange juice. No one here drinks orange juice. It’s too fattening. Why do you keep buying it?”

  “So you’ll have something to complain about,” Mark said. “And hey, maybe I drink it? And maybe Axl drinks it too?”

  She pulled out a yogurt container and closed the door. “Could you buy better juice? You know Ruth-Ann is coming for our sleepover Friday night. Do we have to have this grocery-store apple juice? Can’t you at least buy Martinelli’s?”

  Mark laughed. “I had no idea juice was so important in your life.”

  “Dad, do you think you could stop laughing at me just for a few minutes?”

  That caught him by surprise. Was he teasing her too much? Fourteen-year-olds were so sensitive.

  “Where’s your brother?” Lea said, pouring more coffee into her mug. “Is he getting dressed?”

  “I don’t know.” Elena checked the date on the container bottom. Then she tugged off the top and started to stir the yogurt. “He wasn’t in his room. I thought he was down here.”

  Lea blinked. “Not in his room? What do you mean?”

  Elena stopped stirring. She scrunched up her face, as if concentrating. “You know, I think his bed was made. Like he hadn’t slept in it.”

  “Huh?” Lea uttered a sharp cry. “Are you serious?”

  “That’s impossible,” Mark said. “Go get him.”

  “Can’t I finish my yogurt first?”

  The kitchen door opened. Daniel and Samuel walked in. Mark squinted at them. They looked more disheveled than usual. Their hair hadn’t been brushed and stood up in white-blond clumps over their heads. Daniel’s jeans had a stain in front. Samuel’s black T-shirt was wrinkled, tucked in in front but hanging over his jeans in back.

  “Morning, Mum and Pa,” Daniel murmured.

  As they made their way toward the breakfast table, Mark and Lea gasped at the same time. “Whoa. What’s on your faces?”

  Mark nearly did a coffee spit. Each boy had a two-inch blue arrow, pointing up, on one cheek. “Hey, stop right there.” He set down the coffee mug before he spi
lled it.

  “Those aren’t tattoos—are they?” Lea demanded.

  The twins giggled. “No. Just the face paint, don’t you know,” Daniel answered.

  Elena stood gawking with her yogurt spoon halfway to her mouth. “You painted arrows on your cheeks?”

  The boys nodded. Daniel’s wide grin made his dimples flare.

  Mark reminded himself he needed to stay calm and not overreact. “But—why?” He kept his voice low and steady. “What do they mean?”

  “We’re going up,” Daniel said, his grin not fading.

  “We want to be cool,” Samuel added. He popped two waffles into the toaster and pushed them down.

  “That is definitely not cool,” Mark said.

  He stared at the arrows, so shiny and dark on the boys’ pale skin.

  “Definitely not cool,” he repeated. “You have to go take them off. I can’t let you go to school like that.”

  “But, Pa—” Daniel started.

  “He’s right. For once,” Elena said. “Not cool, guys. Actually, we’re talking freaky here.”

  The grin finally faded from Daniel’s face and his blue eyes appeared to darken, as if a storm cloud had rolled over them. “We want to rule the school, Pa,” spoken in a low voice just above a whisper.

  “We want to rule the school,” Samuel repeated.

  Mark watched them both carefully. Daniel was always the leader. Samuel seemed to go along with everything Daniel said. He wondered about their birth order. Did Daniel come out first?

  “I’m sorry, boys, but I can’t let you go to school with arrows on your faces. Mrs. Maloney will just send you home. You don’t want to get in trouble with her, do you?”

  “She won’t be sending us home,” Daniel replied.

  Such certainty, Mark thought. They seem meek a lot of the time, but then they show tremendous confidence.

  His mind spun away from the issue at hand. Maybe they will make an interesting book. I could do it as a diary of their development as they adapt to a whole new world.

  Lea had her arms wrapped tightly around the front of her beach wrap. She looked tense, but so far, she hadn’t said a word of protest.

  They stood defiantly, eyes locked on Mark. Stone statues.

  Elena couldn’t hide her surprise at their stubbornness. “You two are weird.”

  Lea pulled Mark to the back door. “You can’t win this fight,” she whispered. “Remember trying to get Ira to zip his coat in the freezing cold last winter? They get these ideas about what’s cool and what isn’t, and you can’t ever win those fights. Kids are stronger and crazier than we are.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do?” he snapped, eyes on the twins. “Just do whatever they want? Is that really your policy? So far, you haven’t said no to them once.”

  “Let them go to school. The other kids will let them know how dorky the arrows are. They’ll learn soon enough. From their peers.”

  Mark shook his head unhappily. He shrugged. “Okay, I give up. I surrender.” He turned to Elena. “Where’s your brother? Go get him. He’s going to be late.”

  Elena turned toward the hallway door and shouted. “Ira—get down here. You’re going to be late!”

  “Don’t shout. Go get him,” Mark snapped.

  Elena groaned and pushed between the twins to get to the kitchen doorway. But the back door opened, and Ira came walking breezily in from outside. “Hey, what’s up?”

  Mark couldn’t hide his surprise. “What were you doing in the backyard? Why weren’t you in your—”

  He stopped midsentence when he saw the blue arrow on Ira’s right cheek. “What the hell—”

  That made the twins giggle.

  Mark rubbed his finger down Ira’s cheek. “No, Ira. No. No way.”

  “I’m going to rule the school,” Ira said brightly.

  Mark shook his head. “No. No arrow. Please. Tell me I’m dreaming this.”

  “We’re going to rule the school,” Daniel repeated. He raised his palm, and Ira slapped him a high five.

  “Go remove it. All three of you,” Mark insisted.

  “Why weren’t you in your room?” Elena asked Ira.

  He pointed to the twins. “I’m living with them now.”

  Mark’s breath caught in his throat. “You’re what? You’re giving up your room?”

  Lea: “When did you decide this?”

  Ira shrugged. He seemed to have no idea of how poorly this was going over with the rest of his family. Or maybe he doesn’t care? Mark thought.

  But that didn’t make sense. Timid, fearful Ira always needed the acceptance and support of Mark and Lea. He was desperate for their attention, their approval.

  “It’s cool,” Ira said. “I moved some of my stuff out last night. The twins and I—we’re going to stick together.”

  Mark took a long breath. “Isn’t this something you should probably discuss with your mom and me? You can’t just move out of the house without telling us. I mean, whose idea was this?”

  He turned to the twins, who were spreading grape jelly onto their toaster waffles. “Was this your idea?”

  Before they could answer, the phone rang.

  Mark squinted at the ID screen. “I don’t recognize the number.” He picked up the phone from the kitchen counter and clicked it on. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Mark? This is Ginny Margulies. Ethan’s mother?”

  “Oh, yes. Hi, Ginny. How—”

  “Is Ethan there? Did he stay over there last night? I’m really worried. He wasn’t in his room this morning and . . . and . . . is he there with you?”

  43

  Mark felt his throat tighten. He turned to Ira. “Did Ethan spend the night here last night?”

  Ira nodded.

  “Are you kidding me?” Mark exploded.

  Ira grabbed a toaster waffle. The twins giggled.

  “Ethan is here?” Mark demanded. He heard Ginny Margulies shout something in his ear. “Where is he?”

  “Out back,” Ira replied. He loaded the waffle into the toaster.

  “Your mom and I were out. Didn’t Roz check on you last night? She said she checks on the guesthouse every night.”

  Ira shrugged. “Axl was crying a lot. Roz didn’t come.”

  Mark looked to Lea to say something. But she stood frozen, leaning against the refrigerator with her arms crossed. Just watching. Why isn’t she giving me a little support here?

  “You’re not going to school till you explain this,” Mark said to Ira. “And you are all going to remove those stupid arrows from your faces.”

  “I don’t think so,” Ira said softly.

  “Is my family getting weird?” Elena chimed in.

  “Ethan is here,” Mark said into the phone.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” He heard a long sigh at the other end.

  “But we didn’t know—”

  “You don’t know who’s staying in your own house?” Her worst fear over, the woman quickly turned angry. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t he call me and tell me where he was? Why didn’t you call me? Somebody?”

  “Please. Calm down. Ethan is fine. There was a mix-up, that’s all. My sister was supposed to check on them.”

  Mark wanted to end the conversation. But he knew there was just more confrontation facing him after he hung up.

  What is Ira’s story? Why is he acting so un-Ira-like?

  “Can I at least talk to him?” Mrs. Margulies’s voice was tight and challenging.

  “Well, no. I don’t see him yet. He—” Mark realizing how feeble he sounded.

  “Well, where is he?”

  Mark lowered the phone. “Ira? Can you go get Ethan? His mother wants to speak with him.”

  Ira took a bite of toaster waffle. He stared back at Mark as if he didn’t understand the question.

  The twins giggled again.

  Elena rolled her eyes. “What is your problem this morning?”

  Lea finally uncrossed her arms. “We should have a family
discussion later, don’t you think?” She turned to the twins. “If you have guests back there—”

  “We’re not exactly guests,” Ira interrupted. “We live there now.”

  “The school bus!” Daniel cried, pointing at the window that looked out on the driveway. “Let’s go!”

  “Not so fast!” Mark made a grab for Ira. But Ira dodged out of his hands and burst out the kitchen door.

  The twins followed, shouting their morning chant, which was beginning to sound more and more unpleasant to Mark. “Rule the school! Rule the school!”

  Maybe there’s a meaning here I’m not getting.

  Out the back window, he saw Ethan run out of the guesthouse and catch up with Ira and the twins. “Oh no,” Mark groaned. “Is that a blue arrow on Ethan’s face?”

  Lea raked her hands through her hair, making it stick out in frazzled clumps. “I don’t really understand. . . .”

  Mark heard a chattering sound. He lowered his eyes to the phone. He forgot he was still holding it.

  “Ginny? Ginny?” It took awhile to make her stop shouting. “Ethan just got on the school bus,” he told her. “He’s on his way to school.”

  “But what about his backpack? What was he wearing? What about his lunch? Did he have any breakfast?”

  “I’m sorry. I really can’t answer those questions. This is all a surprise to Lea and me, too. The boys slept in the guesthouse last night and . . . we didn’t know.”

  “Excuse me? The guesthouse? You allow twelve-year-old boys to sleep by themselves in your guesthouse? And you don’t even know who’s there?”

  “Normally, we check on them all the time. But I guess the boys had a sleepover together and forgot to tell us.” Lame.

  Silence at the other end.

  Mark raised his eyes to Lea, who was pacing back and forth, hands in the pockets of her beach cover-up, hair still spiked like lawn divots.

  “Ira is a nice boy,” Mrs. Margulies said finally. “But I’m not so sure I want Ethan to come to your house.”

  “I’m sorry, Ginny. I feel as badly as you do.”