Red Rain: A Novel

by R. L. Stine

  Ira squirmed out from under her hands. “Shut up.”

  “Don’t tease Ira,” Mark scolded.

  “Sorry,” Elena murmured. She gave Ira a bump with her shoulder. “It’s just . . . I’ll be so upset if we don’t have our sleepover. We’ve planned it for weeks.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” Mark said.

  And suddenly both twins were on their feet. Both with the same forlorn expressions.

  Daniel’s eyes brimmed with tears. He took a tentative step toward Mark. “Can I have a hug?” In a tiny, high voice. He rushed into Mark’s open arms.

  “Me too,” Samuel said. “Can I have a hug, please?”

  Mark wrapped them both in a tight hug. He could feel their trembling bodies. They both made sniffling sounds.

  Glancing over their heads, he caught Elena’s trembling-chinned expression. She was near tears, too. Not as skeptical as he thought. Ira sat with his arms crossed tightly in front of him, staring into the distance.

  Mark tried to pull his arms away, but the boys clung to him.

  “Hug,” Daniel said, burying his face in Mark’s shirt.

  “Hug,” Samuel repeated.

  34

  Samuel closed the guesthouse door behind him, making sure it clicked shut. The two boys strode into their room. Each climbed onto one of the low twin beds, one against each wall. They stood up and bounced on the beds for a few moments, a gleeful trampoline act.

  Bright lights set up by the police officers in the driveway broke the darkness outside their curtained window. The light swooped across the flowered wallpaper and caught the two boys as they leaped and bounced.

  “Smoked meat,” Daniel said when they finally slumped to their beds.

  “Smoked meat,” Samuel repeated. “There was Daniel being Daniel again.”

  Daniel stuck his chin out defiantly. “Smoked meat. Smoked meat. Smoked meat.”

  Samuel sighed. “Yes, the man was smoked meat. But—”

  “This will keep Pa busy for a while.”

  “I know, Daniel. But, we just got here. Perhaps we need to go slow.”

  Daniel giggled. “You loved it, too, laddy. I saw your eyes shine. You wanted a taste of that smoked meat.”

  Samuel bounced lightly on the bed. “Don’t be making a joke, Daniel. We don’t eat smoked meat anymore—remember?”

  Daniel giggled again. “Did you put the blowtorch back where we got it?”

  Samuel nodded. “Sure, I did. But I don’t really understand why we needed it, boyo.”

  “To keep Pa busy. To give the coppers something to puzzle about, don’t you know.”

  Samuel’s expression changed. He stood up and crossed to his brother. He put his hands on Daniel’s shoulders and peered down at him. “I know you like a bit of fun—”

  “You too.”

  “But if we get caught, it’s all off. All. Off. And why did we adopt the new mum? Remember?”

  Daniel grinned up at him. “To rule the school?”

  “Yes. To rule the school. But if we go too fast . . .”

  Daniel removed his twin’s hands from his shoulders. His eyes flashed. Samuel knew that expression. Thoughtful. Devilishly thoughtful.

  “Pa doesn’t want us. He doesn’t like us. So we have to keep him busy. Out of our hair, don’t you know. And then, Sammy . . . And then . . . who will help us rule the school? Do you know? Can you guess? Who will be the first to help us?”

  Samuel stuck out his jaw. “I can’t read your mind now, can I? Especially not your mind.”

  “The bruvver and sister,” Daniel said.

  Samuel stared at him. “Who?”

  “The bruvver and sister,” his twin repeated. “You know. Ira and Elena.”

  “The two of them? Help us?”

  Daniel nodded enthusiastically, eyes aglow. “The bruvver and sister know people, Sammy. They have friends, right? They know things. They will help us rule the school. They’ll join us. And then more. And more.”

  Daniel jumped to his feet and pumped his fists above his head. “More and more and more. And when we own all the kids, we own the town. It will all be ours. All. And what does it take, Sammy? You know the answer. Teamwork, boyo. Teamwork wins the day.”

  “Daniel, listen to me. What if Ira and Elena don’t want to join us? What if they tell Mum and Pa?”

  Daniel giggled. His grin made his dimples flare. “We’ll convince the bruvver and sister.”

  Samuel stared at him. “Convince them? Okay. But no smoked meat, Daniel. Okay? No smoked meat?”

  Daniel nodded. “Total domination, Sammy. You’ll see. Total domination.”

  A hard knock on the door ended the discussion. The door swung open, and Roz edged into the room, carrying a round tray with a bowl and glasses. “You boys didn’t get much dinner, what with the police and all. I brought you some Cokes and a big bowl of popcorn.”

  Sweet smiles on both boys. “Oh, me goodness. Thank you, Aunty Roz,” said Samuel.

  Daniel’s eyes lit up with glee, and his dimples flashed. “Thank you, Aunty. Who loves the popcorn? We do! Pop pop pop.”

  PART THREE

  35

  Mark wrapped his arms tightly around Lea’s waist and pressed his face against her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  She stepped back, nearly stumbling over her overnight bag. Her dark eyes flashed. “It takes a murder to make you miss me so much?”

  “Don’t make jokes. Please. It’s . . . been horrible for all of us.”

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get back last night, honey. The jitney was booked. And I missed the last train. Then this morning there was an accident on the expressway, and—look at the clock. It’s nearly two.”

  “It’s okay, Lea. You’re here now.” He pulled her close again and kissed her.

  “How are the kids? I worried about them all night. Are they—?”

  “Roz and I got them off to school. They seem to be okay. A little quiet, maybe. Ira is glum, but I don’t think more glum than usual.”

  “The morning papers could have been worse,” she said, tugging off her red jacket and tossing it on a chair. She straightened her T-shirt and pulled it out from her jeans.

  “For sure it could be worse. The police didn’t reveal the details. Too sickening, I guess. If they had, it would have been on every front page.”

  Lea touched his face. “Poor baby. I feel so bad for you. Did you see the . . . uh . . . the body?”

  “No. I—” He reached for her again. He had a sudden desire to pull up her T-shirt and kiss her all over.

  The doorbell interrupted. Mark glanced over Lea’s shoulder and saw two dark-uniformed men peering through the screen door. He recognized the two cops from the night before.

  He groaned.

  Lea turned to the door. “Hello?”

  “It’s Sergeant Pinto and Pavano,” the big, older cop said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  Lea pushed open the door, and they entered, both removing their dark caps. Pinto studied Lea. He had a toothpick riding up and down between his teeth. Mark smelled tobacco on the other one. Pavano held his arms tense at his sides, as if expecting trouble.

  He always looks uncomfortable. Like he knows he’s chosen the wrong line of work.

  “This is my wife, Lea.” Mark gestured to the suitcases. “She’s just back. From the city.”

  The cops nodded at her. Pinto’s eyes lingered longer than Mark thought they should. Pinto removed the toothpick and shoved it into his uniform shirt pocket. “Sorry for interrupting your afternoon, Mrs. Sutter. We need to speak to your husband for a few minutes.”

  “I’ve already answered all your questions,” Mark snapped. “Do I need my lawyer?”

  “If you prefer,” Pinto said. “But then we’d have to have our talk at the station.”

  “But I’ve told you everything I know.”

  “We’re making a report for the state guys now,” Pinto said. “They’re probably going to send their own cops down. They’ll
ask you the same questions. Then if the feds get into it . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “It won’t take long,” Pavano said. “We have some test results.”

  “Results? You mean like fingerprints? You got them overnight?”

  “The lab guys don’t get cases like this very often,” Pavano said.

  “Perhaps if we could sit down.” Pinto motioned toward Mark’s office down the hall.

  Mark sighed. Lea shrugged. She lifted the overnight bag. “I’ll go unpack. Then maybe I’ll make a nice dinner before the kids get home.” She turned to Mark. “Unless you need me . . .”

  He shook his head. “Go ahead, dear. No problem.” He turned and led the two cops into his office.

  Autumn had left a stack of mail on his chair. She arrived late that morning and didn’t have work on her mind. Shining those beautiful eyes on him, she’d slid his hand over her breasts. Then she got all pouty when he told her Lea was coming home.

  Autumn was young and beautiful and sexy, but seeing her made him feel sick now. How was he going to deal with her? If he told her yesterday morning was a onetime thing, would she go berserk? Tell Lea?

  He couldn’t fire her. That would be a definite lawsuit. And it would mean more hideously damaging newspaper stories.

  And how did he feel about her? He hadn’t had time to sort it out. He knew he didn’t want to hurt her. But he also knew that Lea meant everything to him. He had done a stupid, impulsive thing. So unlike him. So totally unlike him.

  He knew he needed to think about this all. But with the murder . . .

  The two cops were staring at him. Trying to read his thoughts. Did he appear tense to them? Would they misinterpret it and decide he was guilty in some way?

  He removed the stack of letters from his chair and sat down. Once again, they took their places on the green leather couch facing the desk.

  Pinto dropped his cap onto the floor in front of him. Pavano pulled out his phone to take notes. He tapped a slow rhythm with the fingers of his other hand on the couch arm.

  “One more time,” Pinto said. “The victim brought you bad news, right? Very bad news.”

  “Well, yeah,” Mark replied. “But I told you, he was just the messenger. It wasn’t his fault I didn’t get the grant. The board voted. They just sent him to tell me.”

  “And . . . I know you’ve already stated this. . . . Your feeling when he told you? Angry?”

  “Disappointed,” Mark corrected him.

  Pavano tapped something into his phone. Then he raised his head and gazed intently at Mark. “The victim’s car was in the driveway for how long before you noticed it?”

  “Maybe fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty.”

  “You don’t think it’s strange that a car could sit in your driveway twenty minutes, and you didn’t notice it?”

  Mark shrugged. “What can I tell you? I didn’t see it.”

  “And you never looked out the window and saw anyone approach the car?”

  “No. No, I didn’t. I told you.”

  “You never noticed another car drive by or stop?”

  “No. I didn’t look out the front. So I—”

  “You saw no one in your front yard? No one walk up your driveway?”

  “This is getting repetitious,” Mark said.

  Easy. Don’t let them rattle you.

  Pinto nodded. “I know. We have to do this.” He glanced at the notes on his partner’s phone. “Mr. Sutter, we have test results that show your blowtorch was recently used.”

  Mark blinked. His mind went blank for a moment. What can I say? What can I tell them? “Yes. Well, yes. I used it. Ira and I were doing a project.”

  “A project?”

  “Yeah. Metalwork. We were building a robot, actually. I do these projects . . . Well . . . They’re good for Ira. Help him build confidence.”

  “So if we ask your son about the blowtorch, he’ll back up your story?”

  “Well . . . hmmm . . . actually, no. He wasn’t home. I used the blowtorch on the robot while he was in school.” Mark could feel his face go hot.

  Pinto shifted his weight. “Could you show us this robot that you used the blowtorch on? Is it here?”

  “Ummm . . . I know this sounds bad, Sergeant. But the robot disappeared. Ira took it to school, and it disappeared from the art room.”

  They both squinted at him.

  “I’m telling the truth. It must have been stolen.” His face still felt blazing hot.

  “The lab guys seem to think the blowtorch could have been used yesterday. As the murder weapon.”

  “I . . . don’t know anything about that. The garage door was open. Anyone could have taken it out.”

  A long silence.

  “Well, we have fingerprint results on the victim’s car,” Pavano said finally. He flipped through some screens on his phone.

  Mark felt his throat tighten.

  “The CS guys found only children’s prints,” Pinto said. “Children’s prints on both front doors. And then there were three other prints. Round. Like a ball had hit the car.”

  They hadn’t asked a question, but they waited for Mark to say something.

  He leaned over the desk. He cleared his throat. “I’m not surprised by that,” he said.

  The two cops waited for him to continue.

  “The twins,” Mark said. “I believe you talked to them. And they told you they were playing with a tennis ball at the side of the driveway.”

  “And it’s their prints on the car?” Pinto said.

  “Pretty good bet,” Mark said and then regretted sounding so sarcastic. “They were playing catch. They said the ball hit Hulenberger’s car a few times.”

  The cops nodded. He could see they were studying him.

  “And my prints . . . they must have been there,” Mark said. “Remember? I gripped the side of the door? Under the window?”

  “Actually, the crime scene guys couldn’t get any good prints,” Pinto said. “The blood was too smeared.”

  Pavano was flipping through his phone screens. Pinto licked at the side of his mouth. “So the twins saw Hulenberger get into his car. I recall that’s what they said. But then they didn’t see anyone come up the drive? They didn’t see someone come up to the car?”

  “I told them to get out of the way,” Mark said. “I told them to watch out. He was backing up.”

  “And do they always obey you really quickly?” Pinto asked, leaning forward.

  Mark pushed back from the desk. “I don’t understand that question, Officer. What are you saying? That the boys stayed by the front? That they might have seen something?”

  Pinto and Pavano exchanged glances. “They might have,” Pinto said finally. “And maybe they’re afraid to tell us?”

  “They were there,” Pavano added. “It’s hard to believe they didn’t see anything at all.”

  Mark rubbed his chin. The beard was getting long. He needed to trim it. “You may be right. Sometimes when kids are traumatized by something they’ve seen, they manage to lock it away, push it to a back burner, so to speak. Sometimes the fear is so powerful, they just force it from their memory. Stress-related memory loss is very common.”

  The cops nodded. Pavano clicked away on his phone.

  Pinto climbed to his feet with a groan. His shirt had pulled out over his potbelly. “And sometimes do kids lie to stay out of trouble?” he asked.

  Mark stood up, too. He didn’t answer the question. He knew it wasn’t really a question. He didn’t know the twins well enough to know how truthful they were.

  They seemed sweet and innocent. But, of course, kids can put on quite a show for grown-ups when they want to. If the boys saw something frightening, if they witnessed the murder, he felt terrible for them. What a welcome to their new home.

  And then he had a memory flash: I did see them at the side of the house. When I ran out to Hulenberger’s car, the twins . . . were standing at the side of the house. They weren’t in back. They were there.
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  “We’ll want to talk to the boys,” Pinto said, studying Mark’s face.

  Mark returned his stare. “With me in the room?”

  “No. But we’ll have a psychologist in the room. We’ll make sure they are comfortable. You can wait right outside. If you wish to have a lawyer present . . .”

  That was a challenge. Mark felt a stab of anger. “Because you think if I’m not there, the boys are going to incriminate me? That isn’t going to happen. You know the expression ‘barking up the wrong tree,’ I’m sure.”

  They both grunted in reply. Mark led them down the hall and held open the screen door for them.

  After they had driven away, he found Lea in the kitchen, stirring an iced coffee. “That was weird.” Lea poured in an envelope of Equal.

  “You were listening?”

  She nodded. She raised her eyes to him. “Mark, why did you lie to the police?”

  He blinked. He could feel the blood pulse at his temples. “You mean . . . about the blowtorch thing?”

  She nodded. “A robot project? You and Ira never built a robot. Why did you say that?”

  “I needed an answer, Lea. I needed to tell them something. They said the blowtorch had been used. I guess I panicked a little. I mean, I couldn’t explain it. I . . . thought it would be better to give them something.”

  She studied him. “But, Mark, it wasn’t a good lie. They can check it easily. I don’t understand—”

  “Why are you looking at me like that? You don’t think that I—”

  “Of course not.” She stepped around the counter and took his hand in hers. “But look at you. Your face is all red and—”

  He let her hand slide away. “Forget about the blowtorch. That’s not important. The twins were out front when Hulenberger left. The cops think they might have seen the murderer.”

  Lea gasped. “Oh, those poor boys! They must be so scared.”

  “Actually, they seem fine,” Mark said, taking a sip of her iced coffee. “You need more ice.”

  “You know I don’t like it too cold.”

  “The twins said they didn’t see anything. They said they went back to the guesthouse when Hulenberger started to back down the drive.”