Red Rain

Franks didn’t react. He turned his gaze on Lea, holding on tight to Mark’s hand. “Mr. Sutter, can anyone vouch for your whereabouts? Can anyone confirm that you were here all morning?”

“Lea can.”

Franks waited for Lea to speak up. Mark saw she was breathing hard. She’d gone very pale. “Actually, I was upstairs. In our bedroom. Mark was down here. But I know he didn’t go anywhere this morning. You kept us up all night, remember?”

“So you were upstairs and didn’t see him this morning?” Every question Franks asked sounded like an innuendo and a threat.

Mark gasped, startled by the anger that built up so instantly inside him.

You should be out finding my kids.

“I didn’t see him,” Lea started. “But-”

Behind Franks, a state cop dangled a pair of silvery handcuffs in front of him.

“You’re wasting your time,” Mark told him, unable to keep a trembling sneer from his face. “If someone murdered Autumn, the real killer is out there. And you’re standing here arresting me, a child psychologist who’s never even been in a fucking playground fight.”

“Very eloquent,” Franks commented drily. “Listen, Mr. Sutter, cooperate with us now and we can clear this up very quickly.”

Mark blinked. “What are you talking about? What do I have to do?”

Lea let go of Mark’s hand. “I’m going to go call Nestor.” She turned to Franks. “He’s our lawyer. He’s in Sagaponack. I don’t think Mark should say another word until he gets here.”

“What do you want me to do?” Mark concentrated on Franks. “How do we clear this up? Tell me.”

“Show us your wallet,” Franks said. “That’s all. Have you got your wallet, Mr. Sutter?”

“Of course I have my wallet.”

Franks nodded. “Then will you be so kind as to show it to us?”

Mark thought hard. Where did he leave it? His brain was so churned up. His stomach rumbled with anger. He could feel every muscle in his body tensed and tight.

Where? Where?

“I left it on my desk last night.” He started into the hall.

Two cops rushed forward and grabbed him roughly by the arms.

“We have to come with you,” Franks said. “You’re in our custody, remember?”

“I know I left it in my office.” Mark let the two cops walk on either side of him. Franks followed right behind. “I can picture it next to the phone.”

Into the office. A strong breeze rattling the blinds in front of the open window. Mark gazed at the desk.

Autumn, how can you be dead? Who would want you dead?

Autumn, you were so beautiful.

No wallet.

He fumbled his hand over the desktop. He shoved a stack of folders out of the way. He pulled open the desk drawer and shuffled through it.

Don’t look frantic. Don’t make them think you’re frantic.

But he couldn’t control his hands from shaking. Emotion had taken over. Rational thought always lost out to fear, to panic.

“I know I left it here yesterday. I was at my desk and I needed one of my credit cards to buy something over the phone and-”

“Do you want to search for it in any other room, Mr. Sutter?” Franks’s deep voice, mellow and calm.

Sure, he’s calm. What does he have to worry about? He’s so pleased with himself, so pleased with his false arrest.

“Yes. Yes. Let me look for it upstairs. In the bedroom. Maybe I left it on the dresser. Sometimes I leave it there. I-”

“Can I save us some time?”

Franks’s question made Mark spin away from the desk. He squinted at Franks. “Save time? What do you mean?”

One of the officers handed Franks a plastic bag. It looked like a food storage bag. Franks shoved it into Mark’s face. Mark squinted at a wallet in the bag. “Is this yours?”

Mark reached for it, but Franks swiped it away from his hands. “No. No. Don’t touch. It’s evidence. Trust me. We saw your driver’s license inside. Your AmEx card.”

A dizziness fell over Mark. No. Not dizziness. Falling, a free fall. Like he was dropping down an endless black hole.

“Okay. That’s my wallet.”

Franks nodded to the cop at the office door. “Put the handcuffs on him.” He turned back to Mark, shaking the wallet in front of Mark’s face.

“Mr. Sutter, your wallet was found this morning in the grass next to Autumn Holliday’s front stoop. My advice, sir: Don’t say another word to me until your lawyer gets here.”

61

As the solemn-faced cop moved forward raising the silvery handcuffs, Mark had one of those flashing-lifetime moments he had always believed to be only a staple of fiction.

The room grew dark and Franks and the other officers appeared to fade into the wallpaper. A white light formed like a glaring spotlight in his mind, and the images began to whir past-not of his childhood, not of the history of events that led him to this maddening moment.

In the two-second flash of bright light, the events of his future swept past him, a frenzied slide show of despair and ruin. He saw a clear picture of his office, now a closet piled high with cartons. His career over. The house empty. His family scattered. Bold newspaper headlines bannering his disgrace. He saw the sad faces of Ira and Elena, two hardened, disillusioned kids.

And Lea. . Where was Lea? Gone? No picture of Lea?

And the last image of himself, handcuffed in a tiny gray prison cell, clanging the bars with the handcuffs, pounding out his anger, shouting, “But I’m innocent. I’m innocent!”

The light faded. The room came back into focus. And Mark, startled, found himself shouting, “But I’m innocent!”

“Wow. No one ever told us that before,” Franks said.

Maybe it was Franks’s sarcasm that set him off. Or maybe it was the frightening images of the future that flashed before him, almost like something in a science-fiction movie. Or maybe it was the burning outrage that was making it impossible for him to breathe.

This isn’t right. I didn’t murder anyone.

I couldn’t murder anyone. I couldn’t murder Hulenberger. I couldn’t murder Autumn.

My kids are missing. My kids are in terrible danger.

Why are they arresting me? Why aren’t they finding my kids?

Something clicked in his mind. He thought he heard the snap. It was too much. Too much. Without thinking, he started to move.

He saw Lea push her way past the cops in the doorway. And he heard her sharp cry: “It wasn’t Mark! It was the twins!”

He heard her blame the twins. Yes, he heard her shout to the officers: “It was the twins.” And he saw Lea pull some papers from her robe pocket.

But he couldn’t stop himself to hear more. He was already moving. He already had the back of the desk chair gripped in both hands.