Authors: R. L. Stine
“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.
“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.”
“And you don’t believe them?” Her voice rose a few octaves. She gripped the glass with both hands. “The way you said that, you think they were lying?”
“All honesty? I don’t know what to think. I remember seeing them at the top of the driveway. When I discovered the murder . . .”
She shook her head. “Listen, Mark—I know you didn’t want those boys to come here. But they are sweet, lovely boys. And accusing them of lying is—”
“We don’t know what kind of boys they are, Lea. We don’t know anything about them. Yes, I didn’t want you to bring them here. But I’m giving them every chance. And I didn’t accuse them of lying. If they saw something horrible, it’s possible—”
He stopped. Spun around at the sound of a cough. The twins stood side by side in the kitchen doorway.
“How long have you been standing there?” It came out like an accusation.
They didn’t answer. Instead, broad smiles crossed their faces. They dove across the room to wrap Lea in enthusiastic hugs.
“The new mum is home! Mum is home! Yaaaaaaay.”
“W
here are we going, Daniel?”
“To find the bruvver.”
The twins wore their colorful surfer swimsuits, still crinkly and stiff, and white sleeveless T-shirts that came down nearly to their knees. Their plastic flip-flops clopped on the pavement. Daniel took long strides, eyes straight ahead. Samuel struggled to keep up.
A mail carrier in his tiny white truck waved as he putted past. Samuel returned the wave and watched a chipmunk dart under the truck’s wheels. He waited for the bump and then the
squish
. But the little animal scampered out the other side.
“Close call,” Samuel murmured.
Daniel didn’t reply. He appeared lost in thought. The blue of his eyes had faded, as if all of his energy was retreating into his mind. Samuel had seen him disappear into himself before.
They turned onto Long Point Road, which snaked along the bay. Samuel’s flip-flop snagged a clump of tall grass, and he had to stop to free himself. The afternoon sun beamed down on his face, making it feel more like July than May.
“Hey, Daniel—wait up! Do you mind telling me where we’re headed, laddy?”
Daniel kicked pebbles into the tall grass along the side of
the street. Tall, leafy hedges hid the houses that lined the water. “Ethan’s house,” he said finally. He pointed. “Up there.”
“Ira is swimming there with his friend,” Samuel said. “That’s why we’re walking there? To swim?”
Daniel wheeled around, startling his twin. “Time to get in the swim, right, Sammy? Get in the swim. You know? Rule the pool?”
Samuel started to laugh but cut it short. He could see that his brother wasn’t joking around. “You mean—”
“The new pa doesn’t like us,” Daniel said, a sneer making his features hard. His eyes suddenly ice instead of sky. “The new pa doesn’t want us. The new pa is our enemy.”
“Yes, I know that, boyo.”
“The new mum will do anything for us. But Pa fights her. He shouts at her. He doesn’t want to give us what we want. He is our enemy.”
“Yes. So we keep him busy. I understand what you are saying. But what are you thinking? What does it mean, Daniel? Go ahead. Tell me.”
Daniel stared so intently at his twin, Samuel had to turn away. “What it means is . . . What it means is . . . we don’t have to take our time, Sammy lad. We can make our move now. It doesn’t matter. We’ve no one to impress. We don’t have to pretend anymore. That’s good news—right? You want to rule the pool and rule the school?”
“But if we waited—” Samuel gazed at two fat yellow bees fighting over a tiny blossom tucked in the hedge beside them.
Even bees fight.
But not like Daniel.
The mailman waved again, moving the other direction in his stupid little cart-truck. This time, Samuel ignored the grinning jerk.
“Daniel, we already murdered someone to keep Pa busy. Maybe if we take our time . . . go a little slow . . .”
“Slow is no,” Daniel sneered. He saw the bumblebees, too. He moved quickly, reached into the hedge, cupped them both in his hands, and flattened them between his palms. “Slow is no.” He squeezed his hands together, grinding the bees flat.
“Mum deserves a better man,” Daniel said, wiping his palms on the front of his T-shirt. “Mum deserves better. She’ll want us to rule the school, Sammy. It will make Mum happy. You’ll see.”
Samuel shrugged. His face felt burning hot, not just from the sun. He knew he’d already lost the argument. “What do you plan to do?”
“Test the bruvver.”
“What? Test Ira? You’re going to start with Ira?”
“First Ira, then the sister. We have to show him. We have to dominate him—dominate him to win him over. Right, Sammy?”
Daniel didn’t wait for Samuel to reply. He turned and started walking again, running his hand along the hedge, making bees fly and butterflies jump. “We have no choice. It’s time to start. And we will start by dominating the bruvver.”
They turned and Samuel followed his twin up a smoothly paved driveway that led to a wide three-car garage attached to a white frame house. He could hear the splash of water from behind the house and recognized Ira’s laugh.
“Are we going to swim, Daniel? Can’t we have a nice swim first?”
Daniel kept walking. “We need to test the bruvver.”
“What are you going to do?” Samuel jogged to catch up. He grabbed his twin’s shoulders and spun him to face him. “What are you going to do to Ira?”
A crooked smile crossed Daniel’s face and his eyes regained their deep blue liveliness. “Maybe see how long he can stay underwater.”
T
he lovemaking didn’t seem the same.
Was it just his guilt?
No. Mark wasn’t imagining it. They’d been married fourteen years. Long enough to know each other’s every move.
Fourteen years and suddenly he decided to try another woman. No. Not a woman. A girl.
So, yes. Guilt had to play a part here.
Afterward, cradled in her arm, waiting for his heartbeats to slow and his breath to come easier, tapping one finger on his sweat-damp chest, he pictured the young Lea. Only twenty-two when they got married. What could she have been thinking?
He saw the diamond-sparkle of her dark eyes and remembered how sunlight shone in her hair, softer and flowing down past her shoulders then. What year was it? Yes, 1998. In another millennium. She smelled like lemons. Sweet lemons. When did she change her scent?
Once you start seeing the past, pictures fly at you as if falling out of an old album.
Does anyone still keep photo albums?
He saw Lea’s roommate, the lanky, toothy girl with the sexy laugh. Always pushing her coppery hair off her face, twisting it in her fingers, popping her chewing gum with that smile, as if it was some kind of clever joke.
Claire. Lea had moved from Rockford to New York with Claire. Their big adventure. Thank God Claire had a thing for the First Avenue bars, for that’s where Mark met Lea. Very romantic. The two of them breathing beer fumes on each other.
Did she feel the instant connection he did? Of course, it was entirely physical. And what a jerk he must have been that night. Trying so hard to impress her with his stories about college life in Madison, and his studies in psychology. He even bragged about his father being such a hot-shit Park Avenue shrink.
Can you imagine? Using his father? Lying beside her, he cringed. Fourteen years later, he shut his eyes and tried to make the hideous memory go away.
Claire. Think about Claire. Claire Shiner. Yes. It took this long for her last name to reboot. Claire got pregnant. What did she expect, picking up men in the bars every weekend? Always so horny and obvious about it. She decided to go home to Rockford to have the baby.
If she hadn’t gone home . . .
. . . Lea wouldn’t have needed a roommate. Lea, he remembered, worked as an intern at the
New York Press,
a weekly giveaway newspaper. She couldn’t afford that East Side apartment she and Claire shared, tiny and sordid and odorous as it was. Would she and Mark have moved in together if Claire hadn’t fucked her way back to Rockford?
All so romantic.
The breeze from the open window made him shiver. He wanted to slide under the covers, but he couldn’t tell if Lea was awake.
Don’t move. This is too nice
.
Too nice. In bed with Lea in the afternoon. A lovemaking matinee like young people. It seldom happened in this crowded house. He listened to the sweep of the curtains making the sunlight dance across their bed.