PART TWO 3 page

“Is it soup yet?” Mark entered the kitchen, scratching his stubbly face. “What a morning. The guy from the grant committee is coming here.”

Lea turned from the stove. “Really? Did he tell you how much they’re giving you?”

Mark snickered. He stepped up behind Lea and kissed the back of her neck. “You’re such an optimist.”

She frowned. “Well, they have to give you at least part of the grant, right? They wouldn’t turn you down flat.”

Mark shrugged. “Who knows? It’s hard times. I know you don’t read the newspaper‑”

“I read it online. The guy’s coming all the way out from the city?”

“He said he has a house out here.”

“Why didn’t he tell you over the phone? He likes to give good news in person?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. He wouldn’t even give me a hint.”

The soup made a sizzling sound. Lea spun around. She snapped the burner off before it boiled over the side of the pot. “Sit down. We’re all having tomato soup. Homemade. I sliced the tomatoes and everything this morning.”

“What a homemaker.” Mark tried to kiss her again but she ducked her head as she lifted the soup pot from the stove. “Too bad you’re going away again. Who will make us homemade soup?”

“Huh? Going away? Mark, I’m going to the city tomorrow morning for one night. I’ll be back late the following day. You’re not going to make me feel guilty about a day and a half in the city, are you?”

He backed away, raising both hands in surrender. “Just teasing. You know I’ll miss you even if it’s only one night. Every minute is precious to me.”

“Shut up. You’re not funny.”

Ira and Elena were away at friends’ houses. She ladled the thick tomato soup into bowls, then joined Mark and the twins at the table.

Daniel leaned his face to the bowl and took a long whiff. “Smells so good, Mum. Tangy as sea grass drying on the beach.”

“My bruvver is a poet,” Samuel said.

“I like the way you boys speak,” Lea said, stirring her soup, watching the steam rise from the red liquid. “You have good vocabularies.”

“There’s no school on the island, Mum,” Daniel said. “But our parents, bless their souls, taught us well.”

Bless their souls? He sounds like an old man.

An old man, but a charming old man.

She wished Ira could pick up some of their charm and politeness. Maybe it would rub off on him. If only he would spend some time with his new brothers..

“Wonderful soup,” Mark said, across the table from her. He raised the pepper mill and ground a load of pepper into it. He always added pepper, no matter what the food was.

If I gave him a bowl of pepper, he’d add pepper.

Lea had learned not to be insulted when he reseasoned her food that way.

She raised a spoon of soup and blew on it. “Careful. It’s very hot.”

The soup bubbled on the spoon. Red. So bright and red. Where had she seen that color before?

She flicked the spoon hard and sent the soup flying over Mark’s shoulder. It made a soft splash on the wall.

The rain had come down so hard. Sheets of it. All bloodred. Red as the tomato soup.

Lea raised another spoonful, whipped her hand up, and sent the soup flying across the table onto the wall.

“Hey‑Lea?” Mark’s startled cry.

The twins laughed. Did they think it was funny?

The red rain. The bloodred rain. The rain of all the victims’ blood. The dead crying their red tears down on everyone.

The dead. The raining dead. Their red tears steaming in her soup bowl.

Lea flung another spoon of the red rain, the bloodred rain, spoon after spoon splashing on the white kitchen wall. Tears rolling down her face. Sobs wrenching her throat and chest.

The red rain splashed on the wall. Splashed. Splashed again. Till Mark wrapped his arms around her from behind. Wrapped his arms around her so tight the spoon fell from her trembling hand.

“Hold on to me, Mark. Hold on to me.” Where did those words come from? “Hold on to me. Don’t let me go back there.”

“W hen will Mom be back?” Elena lifted the whole toaster waffle to her mouth and bit off an end.

Mark took a long sip of coffee from the white mug in his hand. “She just left an hour ago. She was taking the first jitney. You already want her back?”

Elena gave him the eye‑roll. “Just asking, that’s all.”

“She has meetings today. She’s staying with her sister in the Village tonight. She’ll be back sometime tomorrow afternoon. Okay?”

“Okay. Why are you such a grouch?”

“Sorry. Just tense, I guess. I didn’t want her to go. She seems so shaky. She can’t seem to leave that damned island behind her.”

“Da‑ad. Language.” Elena motioned toward the twins having their breakfast at the table.

“Maybe some meetings in the city will do her good. Give her something else to think about,” Roz chimed in from the other end of the table, Axl on her lap with an egg‑stained face.

Elena swallowed a chunk of waffle. “Does Mom’s cell work? I need to talk to her. You’re being totally stupid and unfair.”

Mark shrugged. “Yes. Everyone tells me I’m stupid. And unfair.”

Across from Elena, Samuel and Daniel giggled. Daniel leaned toward Axl. “How’s my monkey boy?”

Axl stuck his tongue out, pleased with the attention. But Roz snapped at Daniel, “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”

“He likes it.”

“I’m fourteen,” Elena told Mark, dropping the waffle onto the plate. “All my friends go into the city on their own.”

Mark sighed. He spun the coffee mug between his hands. The cuckoo clock above the sink chirped eight times. They were going to be late.

“You know my feeling on this. Why bring it up now?”

Elena’s dark eyebrows formed arched Vs over her eyes, the sign that she was angry. “You’re a total phony, Dad.”

The twins giggled again. That made Axl giggle, too. Roz tried to wipe the caked egg off his cheeks with a paper napkin. Ira kept his head down, concentrating on his Cheerios, keeping out of it.

“Me? A phony?”

“You wrote a book saying parents should let their kids do what they want. But you‑”

“That didn’t include letting a bunch of fourteen‑year‑old girls go traipsing around New York City with no plan or idea of what they’re going to do.”

Elena balled her hands into fists and let out an angry growl. “We.. don’t.. traipse.” Said through gritted teeth.

“Let’s table this for later. We’re going to be late.” He balled up his paper napkin and threw it onto the table. “And stop tossing my book back at me. I know you haven’t read it. The book is a piece of research. It doesn’t mean I can’t make decisions as your father.”

“Phony, Dad.” The eye‑roll again. “You’re a phony and a grouch.”

Mark watched the twins gobble down the last syrupy pieces of their toaster waffles. “How are you boys doing in the guesthouse? You like it back there?” He had to change the subject.

“We love it,” Samuel said. “Our own house. We never had our own house.”

“Our house was always crowded with a lot of strangers, don’t you know,” Daniel added.

“Really? Well, it was nice of Roz to give up her place for you, wasn’t it?”

“Mark, they’ve already thanked me a hundred times,” Roz said, obviously pleased. “And they were so sweet. They both helped me carry my stuff up to the attic. They’re very hard workers.”

Grinning, the twins raised their skinny arms, doing muscle poses, showing off nonexistent biceps.

“Well, I didn’t think it was a good idea,” Mark said. “But I’m glad if it works out. Your own secret hideout.” He glanced at the wall clock. “Come on, guys. Get your backpacks. I’m driving today because Mrs. Maloney wants to meet the twins. Tomorrow you go back to the school bus.”

Ira groaned. “I hate the bus. I get bus sick every day.”

“Get over it,” Elena said helpfully. She bumped him from behind. They bumped each other up the stairs to get their backpacks.

Roz stretched and smiled. “It’s going to be so quiet here in just a few seconds.” That was Axl’s cue to start crying. “What are you doing today?” she asked Mark.

“Autumn and I are going over some foreign contracts and some mail. Then I have a meeting. A guy from the Blakeman Institute is coming here at four.”

“Weird. He’s coming all the way out to Sag Harbor? Is he bringing you a fat check?”

Mark laughed. “You and my wife are a lot alike. She asked the same question.”

“Well?”

“I hope so. I’m counting on this grant. I won’t get any book royalties for another five months.”

“YAAAAAY.” The twins came bursting into the kitchen with their brand‑new blue canvas backpacks bouncing on their backs.

“Let’s go, guys!” Mark said. “The principal wants to meet you two.”

“Rule the school!” Daniel cried, pumping a fist above his head. “We’re going to rule the school!”

“Rule the school! Rule the school!”

Mrs. Maloney was a solid woman, with short salt‑and‑pepper hair over a square, no‑nonsense face. She wore no makeup. Her green‑gray eyes were the most colorful parts of her face. They radiated humor and intelligence and were enough to make people find her attractive.

Her silky tan blouse pulled tightly over her bulge of a stomach, and even from the other side of her cluttered desk, Mark could see that she was straining her stretch‑type brown pants. A tube of Pringles and a can of Pepsi on the edge of the desk revealed that she didn’t care much about her weight.

She greeted the twins warmly as Mark ushered them into her small office. Daniel took the chair beside the desk. Samuel sat across from the desk. Mark watched from the doorway.

The principal showed them she already knew how to tell one from the other (thanks to a previous visit from Lea). And she gave them school maps and copies of last year’s yearbook, which the twins seemed quite pleased with.

Mark knew quite a lot about Mrs. Maloney. She had first been principal at the Sag Harbor elementary school next door before moving to the middle school last year.

Sag Harbor had a large Irish community. They were the carpenters and landscapers and housekeepers, waitresses and pub owners.

Some said they came here because the weather so near the ocean was close to the weather in Ireland. But more likely, they came because they had relatives here. Mrs. Maloney and her husband had emigrated nearly twenty years ago from a town named Wicklow when they couldn’t find teaching jobs in the local schools.

She still had her Irish accent, which made her sound as if she were singing instead of talking, and added to her warmth. She joked with the twins, and they seemed delighted with her.

“There’s less than two months left of school, lads,” she told them, turning serious. “But it should be enough time for you to learn your way around and make some new friends.”

“We want to rule the school!” Daniel cried suddenly. That startled her into a laugh.

“Rule the school!” Samuel repeated, as if it was a chant.

“I like that,” Mrs. Maloney said, gray eyes flashing. “Miss Montgomery will like that, too.” Then she added, “She’s your teacher. Normally, I would split you two up. But since it’s so late in the school year..”

She raised her eyes to Mark, who was still leaning in the doorway. “I know we don’t have any school records for these boys. Is there any chance of locating them?”

Mark frowned. “We’re trying. But we haven’t been able to find any records for them. No birth certificate. No family ID or anything. It’s such chaos down there.”

Mrs. Maloney tsk‑tsked, shaking her head.

“The records were all blown away or underwater,” Mark continued. “But we have someone looking for us. A woman Lea met down there named Martha Swann is trying to find whatever she can find.”

She nodded, then glanced at the wall clock above Mark’s head. “I guess that does it. Welcome to Sag Harbor, boys. We’re very happy to have you. Mark, will you help them find room 204? It’s the second door upstairs.”

“No problem,” Mark said.

Mrs. Maloney was fumbling her hand over her desktop. She raised her eyes to him. “Did you see my watch? I’m pretty sure I had it right here on the desk.”

Mark shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t see it.”

She peered under the desk. Pulled open the middle drawer and gazed inside. Then moved a stack of papers. “That’s odd. Did you boys see a silver watch here on the desk?”

“No, mum,” Daniel answered, eyes lowered to the desktop. “I didn’t see it.”

“I didn’t see it, either, mum. Can we go to class now?” Samuel said.

A utumn came to work after her classes. Mark was glad to see her. After his book tour, there was a lot of work to catch up on. But at three o’clock she was suddenly sitting in his lap and his life went out of control.

She showed up a little after one, breezed into his office down the hall from the living room, and dropped a brown paper bag on his desk. “Cheese Danish? I stopped at the Golden Pear.”

Mark turned from his keyboard and swung the black leather desk chair around to face her. He made a grab for the bag. “You’re the best.”

She smiled. Her eyes glowed. “I try to be,” she said in a sultry whisper that surprised him. She tugged off her red hoodie and tossed it on his office couch.

Autumn wore a yellow scoop‑neck T‑shirt over a short, brown pleated skirt. He couldn’t help but stare at her bare legs, lowering his eyes to the yellow sandals on her feet.

Her white‑blond hair fell loosely over her shoulders. He didn’t remember her wearing lip gloss to work before. And that citrus‑like scent was new, too.

She grinned at him as if she had a secret she was keeping. He suddenly had the idea she was posing, standing in place so he could admire her.

She glanced back to the door. “No one home?”

He opened the brown bag and tugged off a piece of the Danish. “No. Lea’s in the city. I took the boys to school for the first time. And Roz and Axl are doing the grocery shopping.”

She leaned toward him. The lemony scent intensified. The low‑cut T‑shirt revealed more perfect, creamy cleavage. “And what are we doing today?”

“Mostly mail. And I have a number of requests to answer. Appearances. Some radio things.”

She sent a strand of hair off her forehead with a toss of her head.

Mark took another bite of the cheese Danish. “I shouldn’t eat this. Wish I had more willpower.”

Her eyes flashed. “You? No willpower? Really?” She tossed her hair back again. “Are you going to travel more?”

“No. The book tour is over. I’ve done everything I can. Now it’s up to the publisher.” He swallowed another chunk. Tried not to stare at her boobs, which were at eye level. She stood so close. “Besides, I should stay around home for a while. You know. Because of the twins.”

She turned suddenly and walked to the window. She pushed back the dark drapes and peered out. A gloomy day, storm clouds filling the sky. The mostly bare trees shaking. April rains.

“Mark, how are the boys doing?”

“Okay, I guess. They seemed excited about school. They kept chanting, ‘Rule the school! We’re gonna rule the school!’”

“Cute. They really are adorable.”

“Yes. Lea is totally over the moon over them. Roz thinks they’re too adorable. She says all twelve‑year‑olds are monsters. She’s waiting for them to pull off their angel masks and reveal their hideous monster selves.”

Autumn snickered. “Your sister is weird.”

“She’s a cynic. True, she’s had a tough life. But she was a cynic before she had a tough life. When we were kids, I was always shocked because she had something terrible to say about everyone. But, Jesus, she sure could make me laugh. Still can.”

He motioned to the narrow, chrome‑armed chair beside his desk. “Sit down. I’m going to hand you things.” He patted a stack of folders on the desktop.

She lowered herself gracefully into the chair. Smoothed the pleats of her short skirt. Then she reached her hand out and gently flicked a crumb of Danish off the side of his mouth.

His startled look made her laugh.

Should I talk to her about dressing less provocatively?

Well.. actually, I like it.

He pushed the brown paper bag to the edge of the desk. Then he pulled the stack of folders in front of him, opened the top one, and started going through the varied requests‑for autographs, for appearances, for charitable contributions.. and a few for apologies.

There were several lengthy letters, some of them from other child psychologists, refuting his findings. One particularly venomous letter from a woman in Los Angeles accused him of demeaning the whole profession and “holding all psychologists up to ridicule by espousing this crackpot philosophy designed only to arouse controversy and sell books.”

Mark shook his head. “She must have been speaking to my father.”

“Your father?”

“He wrote almost exactly the same letter. I told you. He found my book a total embarrassment.”

“Your father wrote to you? He didn’t call you?”

“We don’t speak.”

“You’re serious? He’s a shrink, right?”

“He’s not just a shrink. He’s a big deal in the New York Psychoanalytic Society. And he’s got his Park Avenue office with his celebrity patients and‑”

“He wrote to you?”

Mark nodded. “He needed to tell me just how much I had embarrassed him. I think my whole career embarrasses him. You know. I didn’t match up to his expectations right from the start. I mean, he went to Harvard and I went to Wisconsin.”

Autumn chewed her bottom lip. “How do you want me to handle that letter?”

Mark flipped through it. Three pages single‑spaced. “My psych advisor at Wisconsin gave me very good advice. She said, ‘Never defend yourself.’ She said you never can convince anyone, and if you try to defend yourself, you just sound weak. She said to always be positive, never defensive.”

Autumn scratched her knee with her long red nails. “So what should I say?”

“Say thank you for your thoughtful letter. I really appreciate your taking the time to write.”

That phony reply made them both laugh. Autumn was gazing at him with such total admiration, Mark had to look away.

Such a beautiful girl. He suddenly wondered about her social life. Did she have a boyfriend? He shared a lot with her about his private life. But he didn’t dare ask her personal questions. It might seem like prying. It might seem offensive. And she never offered much.

Today she seemed different to him. Not just the sexy clothes. The secret smiles and the long gazes, as if she had some kind of plan, some kind of surprise.

They went through the files. Then she set the stack on the floor beside her chair and stood up. She stepped close to him. “You’re a psychologist, right? Can you read my mind?”

He chuckled. “I’m not a mind reader, I’m a psychologist. But yes, I can read your mind. You wish you’d saved that cheese Danish for yourself. Right?”

“Wrong.” She took his hand. Tenderly. “You really can’t read my mind?” Her blue eyes caught the light. “You really don’t know what I’ve been thinking for the longest time?”

“Autumn. Really, I‑”

And then she was in his lap, squeezing his hand, pressing her hot face against his.

“Autumn‑no. Come on.”

She kissed his ear. Her breath tickled the side of his face.

“No. We can’t. I can’t. I mean‑” He tried to stand up. But he couldn’t move.

She turned his head and pressed her mouth against his. He could taste the creamy, sweet flavor of the lip gloss. And then she was opening her mouth, and his tongue moved despite himself.

“No‑”

She held the back of his head and kept his mouth pressed to hers. He couldn’t speak.

“No. This is wrong. Please‑”

Kissing him. She took his hand and moved it between her legs. Kissing him so passionately. Beneath the short skirt her panties were wet. She pressed his hand into her.

“No, Autumn. Stop. We can’t.”

She uttered low gasps in his ear. “Oh, yes. Yes. Oh, yes.”

Like a porno video.

He felt his erection grow. “I don’t want this.”

But suddenly he did.

She stood up and pulled him to his feet. Then she reached under the skirt and lowered lacy black panties to her ankles. She flipped the short skirt up as she leaned over the desk.

That creamy white ass. So beautiful. She grabbed the far end of the desk with both hands. “Mark‑hurry.”

Oh, God. Over the desk. From behind.

His khakis were down. And he was inside her.

This isn’t happening. How can it be?

Sprawled over the desk, she moaned, rhythmic soft cries. He buried his face in her soft hair. He lost himself in her.

He lost himself.

Lost.

And came inside her. It didn’t matter. All the doctors said he could never have more children.

He stayed on top of her for a long moment, breathing hard, gripping the shoulders of her T‑shirt, the creamy ass still moving beneath him. Then, heart pounding, he pushed himself to his feet.

She climbed up slowly. Turned to him. Grabbed his shirt, brought her face close, and licked the side of his face. “Am I your best assistant?” A whisper that tingled his skin. “I want to be the best. Am I the best?”

A door slammed.

They both gasped. She squeezed his shoulders, eyes wide in alarm.

Mark heard the twins’ voices. Footsteps.

Autumn bent down, grabbed her underpants and tugged them on. She straightened her skirt. Brushed back her damp, tangled hair with both hands. “Oh, wow. Oh, wow.”

The footsteps louder in the hall.

He was scrambling to fasten his khakis. Still fumbling with the fly as the twins tumbled into his office, bumping each other, both talking at once.

Zipper stuck, Mark dropped into the desk chair. Crossed his arms over his lap. Forced a smile. “Hey, guys‑how was your day?”

T he twins had their eyes on Autumn, who leaned against the side of the desk, her skirt still crooked, her cheeks bright pink.

“How was school?” she asked them, sounding breathless.

“Good,” Samuel said.

“Yeah. Good,” his twin added.

“What did you do today?” Mark asked.

“Stuff,” Samuel replied.

“Just some stuff,” Daniel added.

Mark tried a third question. “Did you like Miss Montgomery?”

“She’s nice, don’t you know,” Samuel said, eyes on Autumn.

“Nice,” Daniel echoed.

Mark laughed. “You guys were talking your heads off till you got in here. Now we get only one‑word grunts from you. What happened?”

They both shrugged in reply. Daniel giggled.

Mark studied them. They looked too clean, their new jeans and T‑shirts stiff, not broken in. Their blond hair lay perfectly in place, like doll heads.

“Did you suddenly get shy?” Autumn asked. She was working on untangling a thick strand of blond hair.

Mark didn’t give them a chance to answer. “Where’s Ira? Was he on the bus with you?”

“The lad is taking the late bus,” Samuel said. “He was doing a project with Ethan.”

Mark smiled, pleased to get so many words from him. “So did you boys rule the school today?”

“Not yet,” Samuel said with surprising gravity.

“Soon,” his twin offered.

Their school day had gone very well, Samuel thought. Miss Montgomery split them up, seating Daniel in the front and Samuel in the back. But they didn’t care about that.

Samuel sat next to an open window. The April air smelled fresh and salty. He liked that. He spent a lot of time watching two squirrels collecting and devouring acorns at the base of the old tree across from the school.

Daniel sat next to Ira in the front row. They didn’t talk much. They weren’t really friends yet. In fact, Ira seemed very uncomfortable around Daniel.

Maybe he was still angry about Daniel trying to take his room from him. Maybe he just didn’t want new bruvvers.

He’ll get over it, Samuel thought, watching Daniel and Ira ignore each other. Daniel will win him over‑one way or the other. He’ll be true blue, that boyo.

And Derek? Samuel looked for him, but Derek had a doctor appointment and didn’t come to school till lunchtime.

Samuel and Daniel ran into him on their way out of the lunchroom. Derek wore baggy cargo jeans and a red‑and‑white New York Rangers sweatshirt. His eyes went wide, and his mouth opened in surprise when he recognized them.

“How’d you get into this school?” He managed to find his usual bluster. “This used to be a good school.”

“It’s our first day,” Samuel said. “We’re in your class.”

Derek bumped Samuel’s shoulder with a pudgy hand. “You got any money? Mom forgot to give me my lunch money.”

“We don’t have any,” Samuel replied. “We already had our lunch.”

“Let’s see,” Derek said. He grabbed Samuel by the pants, spun him around with surprising strength, and began to dig into his pockets.

Samuel squirmed. “Boyo, stop!”

Daniel moved quickly. He stepped up behind Derek and, with a powerful tug, hoisted Derek’s heavy backpack off his shoulders.

Derek let go of Samuel and spun around furiously. “Hey, jerk! You almost ripped my arms off.”

“Sorry, boyo.” Daniel held the backpack above his head. “You want it? Jump for it.”

Derek uttered a low growl. He narrowed his bulldog eyes and glared at Daniel. “ You jump for it.” He lowered his shoulder and bulled into Daniel, sending him crashing against a metal locker.

Daniel giggled. Holding the backpack high, he quickly regained his balance.

Derek rushed at Daniel, both hands outstretched. He grabbed for the backpack‑just as Daniel let go of it. Derek couldn’t stop his momentum and slammed headfirst into the wall.

The collision didn’t faze him. His big belly heaving up and down beneath the Rangers sweatshirt, he grabbed the backpack off the floor and grinned in triumph. Slowly, he slid it onto his back. “You dudes should be careful. I can mess you up totally.”

Samuel felt a tremor of fear. Please, Daniel. Don’t be Daniel. Let it ride.

Daniel raised both hands as if in surrender. “Truce?”

Samuel took a step back.

“Okay, truce.” Derek’s reply after thinking about it for a while. “You’re both new here, so you don’t know what’s up. I’ll give you a break today.”

“Truce,” Daniel repeated. He stuck his hand out for Derek to shake.

Weird, thought Samuel. What’s up with the handshake routine?

“Truce,” Derek said. He stomped away without shaking hands.

The bell clanged above their heads. Lunchtime was over.

Samuel turned to find Ira, Ethan, and several other kids watching the whole confrontation. “What was that about?” Ira asked Daniel.

Daniel’s smile made his dimples appear to grow deeper. “You’ll see, boyo. You’ll see.”

Samuel wasn’t in on his brother’s secret, either. But all was revealed just before the final bell that afternoon. Miss Montgomery dismissed the class. And as the kids all gathered their books, stuffed their backpacks, and scurried from the room, Mrs. Maloney came charging into the classroom.

Her gray eyes gazed around the room and came to a stop on Derek, who was standing in the front. Arguing with a short, red‑haired girl. “Derek, could I see you for a moment?” she called.

The girl hurried away. Derek eyed the principal warily as she approached. The classroom was nearly emptied. Samuel and Daniel watched from the doorway.

“Yes, Mrs. Maloney?” Derek suddenly being very polite.

She frowned at him. Rubbed her short salt‑and‑pepper hair. “Derek, I received a disturbing note this afternoon. About you.”

His mouth dropped open. “Huh? Me? Who sent it?”

Miss Montgomery stood up behind her desk and looked on.

Mrs. Maloney’s eyes locked on Derek, studying him. “It wasn’t signed. But it said I would find something interesting in your backpack.”

Samuel glanced at his twin. He recognized the eagerness on Daniel’s face. The anticipation. He’d seen it before.

Derek’s blue backpack was on his desk. He stared hard at it as if it would reveal some secret.

“Is there something interesting in your backpack, Derek?” Mrs. Maloney asked softly, almost in a whisper.

Derek shook his head. “No way. Just my stuff.”

“Nothing in there I should know about?”

“No. No way. Unless you mean a Snickers bar and some Starburst?”

Mrs. Maloney let out a long whoosh of air. “I’m sure you’re telling the truth. But why would someone send me that note?”

Derek shrugged.

“Why don’t we just empty out the backpack and settle the whole thing.” Mrs. Maloney kept her voice low and friendly.