Part three

M ark 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.

“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.

Silence everywhere else. Ira was swimming at Ethan’s house. The twins had pulled on their swimsuits and hurried off to join him. Roz had dropped Elena and Ruth‑Ann at the Bridgehampton mall. Roz and Axl were.. He wasn’t quite sure where they were. So hard to keep track of everyone.

So maybe the illicit nature of this rare chance increased his expectations.

No. That wasn’t it. Sure, he was eager. He hadn’t seen her in a week. And in a way, he wanted to reassure himself that they were okay. That he hadn’t screwed up anything.

No. You’re thinking too hard, Mark.

She had welcomed him with that little sigh from deep in her throat that she always made when he entered her. And he felt the same surge of joy as they began. But it didn’t take long to realize that it was different.

Numb.

Such a strangely out‑of‑place word. But as he moved on top of her, the word invaded his thoughts.

Numb.

And he realized he was doing it all and she was just accepting. She had her arms around his neck and then his waist. But she didn’t grasp him with the strength she always had.

And her eyes.. gazing over his rolling shoulders. Yes, she seemed distant. Numb. She wasn’t reacting, and she wasn’t trying to hide it.

When he finished, she murmured, “Nice,” and her eyes settled on him for a moment before losing their focus and settling back into what seemed to be a hazy world of her own thoughts.

“Lea? Is everything okay? You seem so.. far away. I could see on your face.” He took a breath. “You’re still on that island, aren’t you?”

It took her a long time to respond. And then she nodded her head, her gaze not on him but at the ceiling. “Yes. Still on the island.” Whispered so that the words sent a chill down his neck. “Still on the island. Still back there.”

A long sigh. “So many nightmares. Every night. Nightmares pulling me there, pulling me into all that death and horror. I can’t get the wailing out of my ears. The wailing and the moaning and the crying. It’s like I’m still there. Still there.”

She squeezed his hand. “But.. I want to come back, Mark. I really do.”

And then an abrupt move. To break the sadness? Pushing him aside, she stood up. “The kids will be home soon.” It was still a thrill to watch her walk naked across the room. She vanished into the bathroom, and he thought of Autumn.

I can’t keep her around. I don’t want to ruin my life.

And what could he do to help Lea? The things she saw on that island. He felt as if he could see them, too, in her eyes.

Numb.

She had gone numb.

That will just take time.

He felt a heaviness lower over him, his eyelids suddenly heavy. What a luxury a Saturday‑afternoon nap would be. He pulled the quilt up, shut his eyes, and sank into the pillow.

He drifted off. For how long? He didn’t know. A gentle tapping sound woke him. He lifted his head to see Lea at her rosewood desk, her head a silhouette in the glow of her laptop monitor, leaning toward the screen and typing rapidly.

She moved her lips when she typed. So cute. It always made him smile. But her back was turned and he could see only the bobbing of her hair, pulled back in a loose ponytail, and the fingers of her right hand tap‑dancing over the keys.

“Hi,” he called. “How long did I sleep?”

“Not long.” She didn’t turn around. She was wearing a light green beach cover‑up.

Mark pulled himself up. “It’s a beautiful day. Feels like summer. Maybe we should round up the kids and drive to the beach. Sagg Main?”

She shook her head. “No. Think I need to get this written.”

“The island? Are you getting your experience there in writing?”

She kept typing. Her head nodded toward the screen, then pulled back. “I’m not writing about that.”

“What?” He stood up quickly. The breeze from the window tickled his skin. The short sleep had revived him. He did three or four knee bends just to show off to himself.

He walked to the dresser and pulled out a red Nike swimsuit. Tugging it on, he stepped up behind her. “What are you writing about?”

“Something different.”

He chuckled and cupped his hands over her shoulders. “You’re being secretive?”

“Yes.”

He leaned over her shoulder to read what she had written. “You don’t have secrets from your husband, do you?”

He thought of Autumn.

She lowered her hands to her lap. “I just.. have some new ideas.”

He squinted at the screen and his eyes scanned her last paragraph:

Tibet’s inhuman climate and hard, stony ground makes burial nearly impossible. This is why Buddhists there choose a sky burial. Upon death, the body is chopped into small pieces which are mixed with flour. Then the remains are spread out over a tree to be eaten by scavenging birds.

Mark stood up and released her shoulders. “Lea, what is this? Dead Buddhists in Tibet? Sky burial?”

She turned and raised her face to him. The light from the laptop monitor bathed her in gray. “Death rituals,” she said, just above a whisper. “I’ve been doing some research.”

She hadn’t said anything funny. Why did she have that strange, guilty smile on her face?

“Your blog,” he said. “You’re not going to write your travel blog?”

She shook her head. The strange smile remained. “I’ve kind of lost interest in that.”

“But.. you’ve put so much time and effort‑”

She shrugged and turned her face away. “I can’t write it anymore. It’s just not interesting to me. You know. I have to write what I’m interested in. I’ve always been that way.”

He blinked at the screen. “But, sweetheart‑death rituals? Why death rituals?”

“It’s all so fascinating. Did you know there’s a province in Madagascar where people pull the dead out from their graves and dance with them? Every seven years, Mark. They dig up their relatives and dance with them. Isn’t that sweet?”

Sweet?

He took a step back. He watched her type. She leaned toward the screen as if she wanted to dive in. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration.

As if I’m not here.

“Sky burials? Dancing with the dead? Lea? Should I be worried about you?”

“H ey, how’d you get here?” Ira raised his head from the fat blue inner tube and squinted at the twins as they pulled back the gate and stepped onto the deck.

“Walked,” Daniel answered.

Samuel had never seen anything as beautiful as this pool. It was long and wide, nearly the length of the house. The pool walls were a light blue. Sky blue. The water sparkled with little patches of sunlight. As if little chunks of the sun had fallen into the pool, he thought. He wanted to dive in and scoop them up.

He just wanted to sink into the water, immerse himself in the clear, clean cold. Be clear and clean himself. But he knew Daniel had other plans.

“You guys know how to swim?” Ethan sat on the edge of the deep end, blond hair as bright as the sunlight, leaning down to fill a yellow‑and‑red plastic water blaster.

“We swim,” Daniel said. “We lived on an island, remember, lad? Sammy and I swam before we could walk.”

“That’s cool,” Ethan replied. Samuel had never seen a boy so pale, nearly as white as the fence surrounding the pool deck. He could see Ethan’s rib cage poking out from his chest.

He’s puny for twelve. The boy needs to pump up.

Maybe we can help him. If Daniel doesn’t drown the lad today.

Ethan dipped the blaster under the water. Then he raised it and shot a lazy spray of water across the pool to Ira. Floating drowsily on his tube, luxuriating with his eyes closed, Ira didn’t even notice.

“Is the water warm?” Samuel dropped to his knees and ran a hand through it. Under the surface, he could feel the spray of cold water shooting into the pool. “Nice.”

Ethan aimed carefully and sent a long spray of water into Ira’s face. Ira spluttered and dove off the tube. Ethan laughed. He had a dry cackle of a laugh. Like an old witch, Samuel thought.

Ira floated beneath the surface. He rose up in front of Ethan and spit a long stream of water onto his legs.

Daniel grabbed the chrome ladder and lowered himself into the water. He pushed himself away from the wall and paddled toward Ira. “How long can you stay underwater?” he asked, bobbing in a spill of gold sunlight.

Ira’s head sank into the water again. He rose up and spit another mouthful onto Ethan’s legs. Ethan gave him a blast between the eyes with the plastic squirt blaster.

“How long?” Daniel insisted, following Ira across the pool.

Samuel’s body felt sticky and drenched with sweat from the walk to Ethan’s house. He held his breath and leaped into the deep end. The shock of the cold water made him gasp, and he came up to the surface spluttering.

“Ira can stay underwater for a whole minute,” he heard Ethan tell Daniel. “I’ve seen him.”

Daniel eyed Ira. “A whole minute?”

Ira shrugged his skinny shoulders. “Yeah. I guess.”

Samuel didn’t want to listen. He knew the routine. He ducked underwater and swam the length of the pool. It felt so fresh and cold, and made his body tingle. Alive. I feel alive.

When he resurfaced, Daniel was continuing his act. “Do you have a timer?” he called to Ethan.

Ethan set down the water blaster. “There’s a stopwatch on my dad’s iPhone.”

“Go get it,” Daniel ordered. “You can time Ira and me.” Ethan started to the house. His swimsuit hung on him, down to his knees. “Wait. Ethan, you want to be in the contest?” Daniel’s voice made a ringing sound over the water.

Ethan turned back. “I don’t want to swim. I have a scrape on my arm. From the cat. And the chlorine makes it hurt.”

Ethan is not a superhero, Samuel thought, snickering. He made himself heavy and sank to the pool bottom, then kicked back up. I could live in the water. Only place I feel alive.

The kitchen door slammed behind Ethan. Samuel slid onto his back and floated, gazing up at the sun‑streaked sky.

“I think I can stay under longer than a minute,” Daniel told Ira. The two of them held sides of the tube, bobbing with it. Samuel spotted another inflated float leaning against a green chaise longue. Shaped like a big, gray whale.

That would be fun to ride. But Daniel has his own fun in mind.

“I can maybe do longer than a minute,” Ira said without much conviction.

“Want to go first?”

Ira shook his head. “Why don’t you go first?”

“Why don’t you both go under at the same time?” Ethan said, reappearing on the deck with iPhone in hand.

Daniel slipped off the tube and swung himself around to face Ethan. “No. I want the Ira lad to hold me under.”

Ira made a kind of squawking sound. “What?”

“Hold my hair,” Daniel instructed. “Push me under. Hold me down, okay? You have to hold me or I’ll float to the top, and you’ll win.”

Ira slid off the tube and pushed it toward the side of the pool. “You really want me to hold you under?”

Daniel nodded. “Just grab my hair and push down on my head.”

“But how will I know when you want to come up?”

“No worries,” Daniel told him. “I’ll give a signal.”

“You sure?”

Daniel grinned at him, dimples flashing. “Yes, I’m sure. Sure I’ll win.”

Samuel sighed. He dove under again. Peaceful down below. Daniel should have been an actor. Samuel surfaced, shaking water from his thick blond hair.

“Go!” Ethan cried from the deck, eyes on the phone in his hand.

Daniel let Ira push him under the surface. Ira gripped Daniel’s hair and held his head down.

“Hold on tight,” Samuel said, bobbing closer. “Don’t let him come up.”

“He.. said he’d signal,” Ira said, obviously not sure about this contest.

Samuel floated in a circle around Ira. Ira kept Daniel down with one hand, paddled the surface with the other.

“Push him,” Samuel said. “Keep pushing.”

“But‑”

“One minute,” Ethan called. He dropped onto the edge of a deck chair, concentrating on the phone. Samuel could see that Ethan’s slender shoulders were already pink. Sunburned.

“It’s kind of hard to keep him from floating up,” Ira said.

“Keep pushing,” Samuel told him. “He has big lungs. He can stay down a long time.”

“He hasn’t signaled,” Ira said.

Samuel watched his brother float under the rippling water, his arms limp and relaxed at his sides, legs not moving.

“Two minutes,” Ethan called.

“I.. I think your brother wins,” Ira said. “Two minutes. Wow. I can’t‑”

“Hold him under,” Samuel said. “Don’t ruin his turn. He gets angry if you ruin his turn.”

“Did he just signal?” Ira very tense now. The strain showing on his face, pale, his features tight. “I thought I saw him signal.” The muscle in the arm holding down Daniel quivered.

“Not yet,” Samuel said.

Underwater, Daniel floated perfectly upright, arms limp and relaxed.

“Three minutes,” Ethan called, jumping to his feet. “That’s enough, right?” He stepped to the edge of the pool, gazing down at Daniel’s unmoving form. “People can’t stay under this long‑can they?”

“He.. hasn’t signaled,” Ira said in a wavering voice.

Samuel and Ira both watched a string of bubbles float up from Daniel’s mouth.

“Is that the signal? He said he’d signal.”

“Four minutes. Are you sure he’s okay?” Ethan lowered the phone. “I mean really. Is he okay? Four minutes?”

They all saw Daniel’s head slump forward under the water. His head bent and one last bubble slid up to the surface. Then his legs suddenly splayed, and his arms floated limply to the top.

“Let go of him!” Samuel screamed. “Something’s wrong, Ira. Let go of him‑now!”

Ira gasped and swallowed a mouthful of water. His hand flew off Daniel’s head.

Released, Daniel’s body rose to the surface. His face appeared for only a moment, eyes closed, water spilling from his open jaw. Then his body tilted forward and he dropped facedown, arms outstretched and limp.

“Daniel! Daniel! Get up!” Samuel screamed. “Daniel! Daniel!”

Ira uttered another hoarse squawk. He gaped, eyes bulging at the floating, lifeless raft that was Daniel.

“Daniel! Daniel!”

Ira dove toward Daniel. Grabbed his arm. Tried to tug him up.

But he remained facedown, bobbing on the surface, arms and legs floating at such odd angles, as if they were all independent of each other.

“You killed him!” Samuel shrieked. He slapped the water angrily with both hands. Slapped it. Slapped it hard until it churned around him. “Ira‑no! No! Ira‑you killed him! You killed my bruvver!”

A hoarse cry escaped Ira’s throat.

Ethan stood on the edge of the pool, his body trembling. He had left the phone on the deck. His hands were pressed against the sides of his face.

“Nooooooo.” Ira wailed. “He didn’t signal. It wasn’t my fault!” He turned to Ethan. “Get help! Hurry!”

Ethan didn’t move. “My parents‑they’re not home!”

Samuel splashed over to his brother. “Help me pull him out. Maybe we can get him breathing.”

Another moan escaped Ira’s open mouth. His eyes spun. His mouth twitched.

His face is going out of control. The poor kid is totally dazed.

Ira flailed across the water and grabbed Daniel’s arm. And that’s when Daniel lifted his head, shot straight up, turned grinning to Ira, and let out a loud laugh.

“Oh.” Ira’s hand slid off Daniel. The startled kid fell back, dipping underwater for a second before reappearing, his face showing his disbelief.

Daniel gave him a hard two‑handed shove and laughed again, shaking water from his hair.

“You’re okay? He’s okay?” Ethan shouted from the side, his voice high and shrill. “Is he really okay?”

Ira still hadn’t spoken. He bobbed in place, eyes on Daniel.

“Why’d you let me up?” Daniel pushed Ira again, more gently this time. “I didn’t signal. I wasn’t finished.”

“But..” Ira struggled to find words. “It was five minutes.”

Daniel laughed. “Did you forget? I told you Sammy and I were swimming before we could walk.”

“But.. that’s impossible.” Ira shook his head. “Five minutes?”

“I can’t believe he’s okay,” Ethan called. “Hey, get out of the pool. Let’s get some snacks or something. Come on. I can’t stop shaking. Get out, guys.”

Samuel could see that Ira would love to climb out of the water and catch his breath. But Daniel raised a hand. “Whoa. It’s Ira’s turn.”

“Huh? No way.” Ira slid back, rippling the water. “No way. I can’t stay under for five minutes. You win.”

Daniel grabbed Ira’s shoulder. “You have to take your turn. Maybe you’ll do better than a minute. That would be cool, right, lad?”

Ira didn’t reply. “No. You win, Daniel. Let’s get out.”

Daniel grabbed Ira’s hair. “Take your turn. Let’s see how you do. Give me a signal. Just wave your arms when your chest starts to hurt. Okay?”

He didn’t wait for Ira’s reply. He gave him a hard push and sent him sinking. Ira’s head disappeared under the water.

Samuel knew the smile on Daniel’s face. He’d seen it before.

Behind him, he heard a splash. He turned to see that Ethan had dropped into the pool. He was wading toward them. “Ira can only do a minute. I’ve seen him.”

Daniel gripped Ira’s hair tightly. He kept his arm stiff, pushing the boy down. A few bubbles escaped Ira’s mouth.

Daniel, still smiling, turned to Ethan. “What about keeping count? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to time him.”

Ethan peered down at Ira. “I told you. He can only do a minute.”

A shadow swept over them as two large birds flapped overhead, squawking loudly. Samuel glanced up quickly. He lowered his eyes in time to see Daniel slide his other hand over Ira’s head and push down with both hands.

Ira’s legs kicked slowly. Distorted by the water, they reminded Samuel of pale, rubbery snakes. And then the boy’s arms shot out. He began waving wildly.

Ethan stared at Daniel. “The signal. He wants to come up.”

Daniel pushed down on Ira’s head with both hands. The smile never left his face.

Ira kicked and thrashed. He tried to twist his head out from Daniel’s grasp. But Daniel held on tight. A stream of bubbles rose up from Ira’s mouth.

“Let him up!” Ethan shouted. “He’s signaling. He’s done.”

Daniel held on tight, not moving. His jaw was clenched, nostrils flaring.

“Let him up! Come on, Daniel. Let him up!”

Ira shot his feet out. Twisted his head. Raised both fists above the surface. Beneath the water, his body flopped like a frantic fish caught on a hook.

Daniel scrunched up his face, his eyes shut, and pushed down on the struggling boy’s hair, holding his head under the surface.

Samuel wanted to sink under the water and never emerge.

Please, Daniel, don’t do it. Please don’t do it this time.

Please stop now. Yes, I know why you are doing it. I know the new pa doesn’t want us. I know you want to rule the pool. But, please, Daniel. It’s too soon.

Please don’t do it to Ira. Please.

“W hy is Axl crying?”

Roz squinted at Mark. “Why does the sun come up every morning? You’re the child shrink. You tell me. ”

Mark set down the book he’d been reading, a treatise about how sibling order determines your fate. So interesting how often the oldest sibling is the achiever in the family. He pulled off his reading glasses and folded them carefully. He grinned at his sister. “Maybe he’s hungry.”

“Oh, wow. Genius. I never would have thought of that.” Roz rolled her eyes. She tossed the ball of dirty laundry she was carrying onto his lap.

He pulled a red pajama top off his head. “He’s bored, that’s all. Let’s pick up the boys and take everyone to the ocean.”

Roz started grabbing up the dirty clothes. “I thought doing the laundry might be more fun.”

She turned as Axl came toddling into the room. “Beach! Beach! Beach!” He could always stop crying in a split second.

Mark chuckled. “He was listening to us.”

“He listens to everything,” Roz said. “He’s a little spy.”

“Beach! Beach! Beach!” He reached for his mom to pick him up, but her arms were full of laundry. So he wrapped his hands around her knees.

“Where are the boys?”

“At Ethan’s house. All three of them. We’ll have to pull them from the pool. I’ll probably have to bribe them with ice cream to get them to come with us.”

“They’ll come. Axl, let go of me. I can’t walk. Is Lea coming?”

“No. She’s working. I’m not sure what’s up with her. She’s writing a piece about death rituals.”

Roz squinted at him. “Odd.”

“Yes. Odd.”

“It’s that island. The hurricane. She saw so much death. I think she’s having trouble shaking it from her mind.”

“We’ll have to be very nice to her.” Roz struggled across the room with Axl clinging to one leg. Giggling. He’d turned her into an amusement park ride. “The ocean will tire him out. That’s good. Only thing I hate is that he eats the beach.”

Mark nodded. “He’s definitely a sand eater. I had to pry a huge glob of sand from his mouth last time, remember? Maybe he learned his lesson.”

“Learned his lesson? Go ahead. Say something stupider than that. We’ll just have to watch him like a hawk.”

“Yes. Like a hawk. I’ll start loading up the car. We’ll take your SUV. More room.”

“Do we need food?”

“No. Bring something for Axl. We’re only going for an hour. No one will starve. And we can buy them ice cream from the truck in the parking lot.”

“Let me just drop this laundry in the machine.” She turned back to him. “This is the twins’ stuff. It’s so clean, you’d think they didn’t wear it.” She held up a white T‑shirt. “But look at this. This ragged, dark spot on the sleeve? I think it’s a burn mark.”

“A burn mark?”

“Yes. The sleeve was definitely burned. Weird?”

“Weird.” Mark stared at it. “Hope they’re not playing with matches in their private hideaway back there.”

“They love it back there, Mark.”

“Really? Think they’re happy here?”

“Well.. I walked by the guesthouse last night after supper and I heard them in there giggling and giggling.”

“Think they already feel at home?”

“They have funny jokes. One of them kept saying, ‘smoked meat, smoked meat,’ and then they’d laugh and laugh.”

“I don’t get the joke.”

“They were being silly. I think they’re doing a great job of fitting in. I mean, losing their family and all, moving from their home, it can’t be easy.”

Mark climbed to his feet. He glanced at his laptop monitor. No email. No one ever emailed him on Saturday. “Well, we’ll see how they fit in. I mean, we haven’t asked much of them. They live by themselves in the back. They don’t share much about school with us. They don’t‑”

“Mark, there was a horrible murder right in our driveway. Maybe they even witnessed it. But they haven’t seemed messed up by it. They haven’t acted out or anything.”

“I think it’s good they went swimming with Ira. That’s encouraging. They’re the same age, so if they manage to bond with Ira, maybe..”

His voice drifted off. He still had major doubts about the whole thing.

He went upstairs to give Lea one more chance to come along with them, but she was captured in the glow of her laptop screen. Were her eyes glassy or just reflecting the light of the monitor?

“We’re going to the ocean. I’m going to pick up Ira and the twins. Want to come with us?”

She mumbled something he couldn’t hear and kept typing without turning her head. He couldn’t help but be annoyed. “Sweetheart, don’t you want to spend some time with the boys?”

Another mumbled reply.

He forced a laugh. “I’m going to have to pick you up and carry you away from that keyboard, aren’t I.”

She waved him away. “I need to get this all down, Mark.”

He kissed the back of her neck, changed into a swimsuit and sleeveless T‑shirt, found his Tevas, and hurried outside. Roz was struggling to fasten Axl in his car seat. “Just think. Only six more years of this. Lucky, huh?”

Mark laughed. “That’s what I love about you, Roz. Always thinking on the bright side.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have put the suntan lotion on him first. He keeps sliding out of the seat.”

Mission accomplished with Axl, Roz climbed into the backseat beside him and they drove the few blocks to Ethan’s house. The sun, still high in the afternoon sky, filtered through the trees, sending flickering light dancing over the windshield. On the side of the street, a dead squirrel had attracted the attention of several hungry blackbirds. The passing car didn’t even make them flutter a wing or interrupt their feast.

Mark pulled the car to the bottom of the driveway. The three garage doors were open. No cars in view. Wasn’t anyone home to watch the boys in the pool?

He left the air‑conditioner running for Roz and Axl and climbed out of the car. It was a hot day, more like summer than May, a great beach day. Sunlight bounced off the front of the white frame house. He took a few steps up the smooth paved driveway. A chipmunk darted out of the garage, into the yard.

A few doors down he heard the low drone of a power mower. Across the street, two little girls rode pink and yellow tricycles up and down a driveway.

Nearly to the front of the house, Mark stopped to listen. The silence disturbed him. No splashing. No boys’ voices. Usually they were decimating each other with water blasters, cannonballing into the pool and jumping out, shouting and wrestling and splashing.

Today silence.

They never went indoors when they could be in the pool.

A sudden feeling of dread made the back of his neck tingle. Too quiet. Too quiet. His legs felt heavy as lead as he started to jog toward the back.

Is something wrong back there?

What’s going on?

He was breathing hard by the time he reached the white picket fence. Still silent back there. “Hey‑where is everybody?”

He pulled the gate. When it didn’t budge, he pushed it. He stumbled onto the deck and saw them immediately.

Oh my God.

Was that Ira? Yes. Ira flat on his back. Stretched out straight on the deck beside the pool. Daniel and Samuel on their knees, hovering over him, faces narrowed in concern.

Ira flat, his face pale white, head straight up, arms and legs so stiff at his sides. Not moving.

Not moving.

Ira. Not moving.

A few minutes earlier. Daniel pushed down on Ira’s head. The boy kept thrashing and squirming under the churning water, but weakly now.

“Be careful,” Samuel said, tugging his brother’s arm. “Don’t get carried away. You just want to scare him, Daniel. You don’t want to drown him, do you? Do you?”

Daniel’s eyes were wild and distant at the same time. Samuel always wondered what he was seeing at times like these. Samuel knew what he saw. An endless dark chasm stretching beyond them forever.

“Daniel, please‑”

Daniel blinked, as if coming to consciousness. He lowered his hands around the struggling boy’s waist and, with a grunt, hoisted him out of the water.

Ira emerged coughing and choking, eyes wide, water rolling off him, legs still churning. Daniel held him high, allowed him to spew up a stream of water, cough and groan and sputter.

Behind them, Ethan shrieked at the top of his voice: “Are you okay? Is he okay? Is he okay? Ira?”

Samuel thought he could see the heartbeats in the boy’s bony white chest. Now Ira made hoarse vomiting sounds, dredging up only pool water.

Daniel held him up, his biceps round and hard, too developed for a twelve‑year‑old. But Samuel knew where his twin’s strength came from.

Ira’s hair was matted over his face like a clump of dark seaweed. His head was down, arms limp at his sides, legs finally still.

“Is he okay? Is he breathing? Is he going to be okay?”

Samuel gave Ethan a reassuring thumbs‑up.

Ira grew quieter. His chest still heaved but the choking and vomiting had ceased. He raised his head slowly, groaning. He brushed the wet clump of hair off his eyes with one hand.

Daniel laughed. “You did it, laddy!” he cried exultantly.

Ira squinted at Daniel, struggling to focus. “Did it?” His voice a choked whisper.

“A minute‑twenty!” Daniel declared. “You broke your old record. I knew you could do it!”

Ira just stared at him, his face vacant, obviously trying to decide Daniel’s intent. Did Daniel just try to drown him? Was he playing a vicious game? Or was he really trying to help Ira break his underwater record?

Daniel kept the grin on his face. “Way to go, lad. Next time, a minute and a half.” He lowered Ira gently into the water. Then he turned to Samuel. “Wasn’t that amazing?”

“Amazing,” Samuel echoed.

“But you forced him,” Ethan protested. “Didn’t you see he wanted to come up?”

“I knew he could break his record,” Daniel insisted.

“C‑cold,” Ira stammered. “I’m.. getting out.” He started to paddle weakly toward the side, gliding as if in slow motion.

“Get him some more towels,” Daniel ordered Ethan. “Maybe a sweatshirt or something.”

Ethan splashed out of the pool. His bare feet thudded on the deck, leaving dark footprints as he disappeared into the house. As soon as he was gone, Daniel nodded to Samuel.

Samuel knew the routine.

Each taking an arm, they led Ira out of the pool. “Th‑thanks,” Ira stuttered. The poor kid was shaking.

“Here. Lie down in the sun,” Daniel instructed in his most gentle voice. Like a harmless little boy, Samuel thought.

They helped Ira onto his back on the sun‑hot deck boards. He stretched out flat, water running off him, still breathing hard, shuddering.

“Ssssh. Relax,” Daniel whispered. He turned expectantly to Samuel.

Time for me to go to work.

It was so funny, actually. Daniel was the angry one. The bold one. Face it‑the evil twin. Daniel was the one who wanted to act. Daniel wanted to rule the pool or rule the school or rule the fools.

Samuel knew he was different. He was shy. He was peace‑loving and calm. No, not kind or sweet or feeling. But calm, at least. Not eager.

So funny, since Sammy was Death Man.

Sammy was the killer‑man. Sammy had the beam, the ray, the whatever‑you‑want‑to‑call‑it. Sammy had the heat. The burn. The furnace. Go ahead‑say it: the fire of Hell.

Yes, together on the island where the dead met the living, they stepped out of a blood rain. Yes, the blood was on their shoulders and in their hearts. The blood splashed at their feet and puddled all around them, ran down their faces and stained their skin as well as their clothes.

Like a nightmare. I know we are nightmares.

And the strange part: Daniel brought the anger. But Sammy brought the death.

Now Daniel eyed him eagerly. Samuel leaned over Ira, brought his face close to the shivering boy’s, and began to fire up his eyes.

Samuel’s eyes clicked as if someone had bumped a switch. And they began to light instantly. The white around the pupils darkened to pink, and then the pupils disappeared into the growing red glow.

Like the coiled burners on an electric stove, Samuel’s eyes reddened and the heat began to radiate. His eyes were bright fire now, hot neon, red and hypnotic.

So hypnotic, Ira made no attempt to move or look away.

“Easy,” Daniel warned, bumping Samuel’s arm. “Don’t burn him. Back off a bit. You’ll blind him. We don’t want to hurt him. We only want to open his mind. Easy. Easy. We don’t want Mum to see that he is changed.”

“Okay, boyo. I’m being careful,” Samuel whispered. “Hurry. Ethan will be back.” He could see the red‑glare reflection of his eyes in Ira’s eyes. “I’m just holding him. Not burning him. Go ahead. Tell his brain who is boss.”

Samuel was always surprised that he couldn’t feel the heat. Burning embers. No. Burning lasers. His eyes radiated blistering heat. But he couldn’t feel a thing.

Daniel leaned over the prone figure. Ira was hypnotized in the red glow.

“Okay, bruvver, I helped you today,” Daniel said, eyes on the glass doors of the house, watching warily for Ethan’s return. “Now we will stick together, boyo. Stick together like bruvvers. Yes?”

Silence for a second. Samuel kept the light on Ira’s face. “Yes,” Ira answered. Robotlike. But he gave the correct answer.

“Bruvvers forever,” Daniel murmured. “Even closer than bruvvers. And we’ll all be together day and night, all together we’ll rule the school.”

“Yes,” Ira said, this time without hesitating. He almost sounded enthusiastic.

Good boy.

Daniel gave Samuel the nod. The job had been done. Ira’s mind had been fixed. Samuel shut his eyes. He could feel a little prickling heat on the backs of his eyelids. He kept his eyes shut until they cooled.

When he opened them, he saw the new pa burst through the gate and stride onto the deck, his chest heaving up and down. “What’s wrong? Hey‑what’s wrong?” In a panic.

Daniel helped Ira to a sitting position. “Wave at your pa,” he whispered.

Ira waved.

“Is Ira okay?” The new pa hurried up to them. Samuel saw the sweat stain on the front of his sleeveless tee.

“I’m fine, Dad. We were just taking a break,” Ira said.

“We had an awesome swim, don’t you know,” Daniel said. “Then we did some tricks in the water. And had some contests.”

“Ira can hold his breath a long time,” Samuel told him.

Ira nodded. “I beat my old record, Dad.”

The new pa studied Ira’s face, as if he still thought something had gone wrong. “When I saw you lying on the deck like that..”

“Just relaxing,” Ira said. “What’s the big deal, Dad?”

“Where’s Ethan?”

Ethan reappeared as if on cue, carrying a stack of towels. “What’s up? Is Ira okay?”

“Of course I’m okay,” Ira insisted.

Ethan squinted at Ira, confused.

“Ethan, want to come to the ocean with us?” the new pa asked, wiping sweat off his forehead with the front of his shirt. “We have room.”

“No. Thanks. My mom said I had to stay home. She went to Cromer’s to get dinner. She’ll be back any minute.”

“Okay. Next time. Let’s hurry, guys. I left Roz and Axl in the car.”

Daniel helped Ira to his feet. He kept his arm around Ira’s shoulders as they made their way to the car. “I see you two are bonding,” the new pa said.

No one replied to that.

At the gate, Samuel turned back to Ethan. “Can I borrow this towel?” He held up the ragged white towel.

“No problem,” Ethan called. “Bring it back next time, okay?”

Samuel followed the others to the black SUV at the bottom of the drive. The boys greeted Roz and Axl. “Put beach towels down on the seats,” she told them. “Don’t get the car all wet.”

“Roz, it’s a beach car,” Pa told her. “It’s supposed to get wet.”

“Wet,” Axl repeated, and laughed.

Ira climbed into the passenger seat next to Pa. Samuel followed Daniel to the back. They climbed up next to the beach basket and supplies.

The car bumped off the driveway, onto the street. At the side of the road, Samuel saw big blackbirds feasting on the carcass of a stiff, dead squirrel.

After they had driven for a few minutes, Samuel poked his twin. Daniel turned from the window. Samuel grinned at him. “You win a prize,” he whispered.

Daniel’s eyebrows slid up. “What did you get?”

Samuel slowly unrolled the towel. Then, grinning, he revealed the prize inside. The iPhone Ethan had used to time the underwater contest.

Daniel started to giggle and soon Samuel was giggling too.

“What’s so funny?” Roz asked.

“We’re just happy lads,” Daniel answered.

A t police headquarters on Division Street in Sag Harbor, Andy Pavano didn’t have his own office. There was a cubicle by the men’s room that had been promised him. But it was filled nearly to the ceiling with junk, mainly old computer equipment and fax machines, and no one in the department seemed eager or even willing to clear it out for him.

Maybe they were waiting for him to do it himself, Andy thought. In the meantime, he was squatting in the office of Angie Donato, the one woman in the department, who was out on maternity leave. The only redecorating he had done to make it his own was to turn all her family photos to the wall because her four kids were really ugly. Beasts. No exaggeration.

Waiting for a meeting in which he knew he and Pinto were going to be bounced off the Hulenberger murder case, he sat on the edge of his (her) desk with the phone pressed to his ear, enjoying Sari’s voice even though she wasn’t saying anything promising to him.

The air‑conditioning was on the fritz, so a large floor fan hummed and squeaked in the corner, making it hard to hear her. “What did you say? You what?”

“Rod and I are serious about each other, Andy. I mean, I don’t know how serious. But‑”

“Sari, please tell me his name isn’t Rod. You’re not going with a guy in a tennis hat named Rod.”

“You’re making jokes. He’s a nice guy. He’s nice to me. He‑”

“You know you still feel something for me. At the theater the other night..”

“I told you that was nothing. Sure, there are leftover feelings. From before. Sure, we both have them. But come on. That’s what they are. Leftovers.”

Marie, the office secretary, began having a heated conversation with a lanky young cop in the hall outside his door. Andy turned his back and tried to drown out their voices.

He missed some of what Sari was saying. He just caught the name Susannah.

“Sari, what? What about Susannah?”

“How long were you married, Andy? Did you cheat on her, too?”

Ouch. That brought a physical pain, a sharp stab to the pit of his stomach.

“That’s cold, Sari. That’s not fair. You don’t know anything about me and Susannah. And I didn’t cheat on you. I‑”

“You were a shit, Andy. You were a total shit.”

“How about lunch?”

He heard her breath catch.

“Just a quick lunch at the Paradise. We won’t be serious. No serious stuff. Just talk. Like old friends.”

“You sound too desperate.”

“Does that mean yes?”

She laughed. “Can Rod come, too?”

“Aaaaagggh.” He let out a frustrated growl.

Pinto poked his big balding head into the doorway. “Are you having phone sex again?”

Andy tried to wave him away.

“Big Pavano is calling. Time to have our heads chopped,” Pinto said, motioning for him to come to the chief’s office.

Since Andy arrived on the force, the chief was always referred to as Big Pavano, which was a joke, since Andy was a head taller and had him by at least thirty pounds. But rank was everything, even on a police force of seven.

Andy waved Pinto away again and pressed his face against the phone. “Have to go. We’ll set a date for lunch, okay?”

But Sari had already hung up.

Michael Pavano‑as stated to anyone who commented, no relation to Andy Pavano‑did not have the cliche looks of a local Long Island police chief. Yes, he had been a marine. Had a pretty good career, working his way up the ranks to master sergeant because he was smart and obedient and liked to follow the rules, felt more comfortable following the rules, liked a structured life and the sense of order the corps offered.

But when it was suggested he be moved to internal affairs, he balked and then resigned his commission. He had no interest in plotting investigations of men who had worked hard enough to become U.S. Marines.

The switch to a uniform in the Boston Police Department seemed natural, but he struggled to find the kind of structure he had as a marine. Of course, it didn’t exist. So when a friend suggested the job opening in the Sag Harbor Department, it seemed like an escape and an opportunity at the same time.

To Andy’s mind, Big Pavano didn’t look like a marine or a cop. For one thing, he was short and slender. (He said he’d made the marine height requirement by standing on tiptoe, a rare joke for someone normally humorless.) He didn’t have the beer pouch of an ex‑soldier who had relaxed his standards. He had a full crop of straight black hair, streaked with gray at the sides, and a friendly face, warm blue‑gray eyes that somehow always managed to look sympathetic.

There was a sadness about Big Pavano, Andy thought. Maybe because he’d always been married to his post, never had a wife or family.

He had three folding chairs waiting facing the desk in his small, nearly bare office, and motioned for Andy and Pinto to sit down. As they did, a toweringly tall, light‑skinned black man in a blue cop uniform ducked his head under the doorframe and stepped into the room.

“This is Captain Franks,” Pavano said, “from the State Criminal Investigation Bureau. I called him in because.. well.. you know why.”

“Morning, Sergeants.” Franks nodded solemnly to them. He had short black hair receding on his broad forehead. His dark eyes studied them with interest, moving from Pinto and Andy. His broad nose had obviously been bro