Red Rain

72

Mark saw Lea walking determinedly down the middle of the Sag Harbor pier, eyes searching for him among the two rows of parked cars. He could see her distress from her body language, arms tensed at her sides, hands balled into fists, shoulders slumped, strides clipped and rapid.

He waited at the far end of the pier, the meeting place he had suggested that morning. Behind him, the water of the bay lapped darkly against the pilings below. The white yachts lining both sides of the pier stood as still as if on land, too big to be rocked by the gentle waves. One enormous yacht had a red Porsche parked on its wide stern and white-uniformed staff carrying breakfast trays to the main cabin.

Mark stepped out from behind a black Mercedes SUV, watching the pier behind Lea, making sure she hadn’t been followed.

The morning had started out cloudless and bright, but now the sky was leaden with acrid smoke. Mark glanced at his watch. Not quite eleven o’clock, and the pier was pretty empty. In an hour or so, as lunchtime approached, the parking spaces would all be filled. He watched men unload shrimp and lobsters from the back of a white panel truck and carry them across the pier into the small, shingled Dock House clam bar.

He took a deep breath, expecting to smell salt water. But sour smoke burned his nose. That fire must still be out of control.

A man and a teenage boy walked past carrying fishing rods. The boy pointed to a spot on the side of the pier, but the man waved him off, and they kept walking. No one else in sight. Mark slid out from the SUV and called to Lea.

She stopped short, as if surprised to see him there. Then she came running, dark hair bobbing at the sides of her face, no smile for him.

“Lea-”

“Oh, Mark, here you are.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. He wanted to squeeze her tight, hold her there for a long time. She was his old life, his good life, and he desperately wanted to hold on to her. He kissed her, then pressed his stubbly cheek against her face.

“Mark.” She pulled away, out of his arms. “I got your text. You’re okay? How did you get away from the school?”

“The FBI agents didn’t recognize me. I slipped out while they were searching the classrooms.” He held onto her. “Thank God the kids are okay.”

He felt her shudder. “I saw Ira and Elena. I talked with them. They’re fine. Roz took them home. It’s so wonderful, Mark. You got them all out.”

She raised her face to him. “The twins? Did you see them? Are they-?”

“They got away. I knocked them out, Lea. I. . I slammed their heads together. I think it broke their spell over the kids. But they escaped. I don’t know where-”

“Oh, Mark. . you were so brave, sweetheart. But. .”

But?

He waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. When she raised her eyes to him, he could tell she was holding something back. She changed the subject. “Where did you stay all weekend?”

“At Nestor’s. In his poolhouse. The police came to the house, but they didn’t search the poolhouse. I hid in a tiny closet. But they never searched back there.”

Her dark eyes locked on his. “Thank God you’re safe. You look horrible.”

“I. . haven’t slept much. I’ve been worried-”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “So much to tell you.” More tears welled in her eyes. “The twins. I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. I didn’t know-”

A green BMW pulled in beside the Mercedes. Mark guided Lea away toward the Dock House.

“It’s our last morning, Mark.”

Her words sent a chill to the back of his neck. He squinted at her, unable to respond.

“Maybe we could try to have a normal morning, okay? Wouldn’t that be nice? A last normal morning?”

“Lea, what are you saying? You’re talking in puzzles. Tell me about the twins. What do you know about them? What did you find out?”

She ran a finger down his cheek. It made his skin tingle. He had rescued the children. They were safe. Why were her eyes so sad? What was she hiding from him?

“A normal hour or two,” Lea said. “Look how pretty it is. The white yachts, the pier stretching into the bay, the seagulls against the sky. This is one of my favorite spots in the Hamptons. It always reminds me of Sausalito. Remember that weekend in Sausalito? That restaurant down by the water? We were so young.”

He grabbed her shoulder. “Lea, you need to tell me what’s going on. Why are you talking about Sausalito? Why are you acting like this? You are really frightening me.”

She forced a tense smile and turned away. “I think the waffle cone place is open. Let’s get waffle cones, Mark, and maybe walk through town. You know. Like a normal couple. Just stroll aimlessly up and down Main Street and people-watch, the way we used to. We can do it, Mark. The police won’t be looking for you anymore.”

“No. Not till you explain to me.” He grabbed her by the arms and locked his eyes on hers, trying to see her thoughts.

She turned away, as if his stare was too much to bear. “I. . I’m so sorry, Mark. It’s all my fault, don’t you see. That’s why I feel so bad. I feel so bad for you, Mark. Especially for you. Because you’ve been so wonderful and loving and trusting. Yes, trusting. And I. . I’ve ruined everything.”

“But-how? What are you saying?”

A sob burst from deep inside her. “Don’t you understand, darling? This is the last hour? It’s our last hour. Don’t you see, sweetheart?”

“No. It can’t be. Come here.” He tried to hug her but she stood rigid, her dark eyes finally coming to rest on his face.

“Don’t you see, Mark? I guess you can’t. I guess I have to say it. Okay. Okay. I’ll tell you. I died on Cape Le Chat Noir. I died there, honey. I’m so sorry. I died in the hurricane.”