R. Stine - Red Rain

“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.

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 spilled 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.