Red Rain: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

hunkered in the front row, still in their raincoats, shopping bags on the floor in front of them. Regulars, probably. Lonely people who come to every bookstore event.
    Jo-Ann started to introduce him. There were hurried footsteps on the stairs. More arrivals. She wrapped her hand around the microphone as she talked, and it made an annoying scraping sound.
    “—already seem to be familiar with our guest author and his book, so I expect a lively discussion tonight.”
    Mark heard a few people snicker at that.
    “Some things you may not know about Mark Sutter,” Jo-Ann continued. “He’s a Sag Harbor resident, not a summer person. He and his wife live here year-round with their two children.”
    She read from a handwritten index card. One hand held the card. The other squeezed the microphone as if trying to get juice from it.
    “Mr. Sutter was born on Long Island in 1973. He grew up in Great Neck. He has a BS in Child Psychology from the University of Wisconsin. Mr. Sutter has a national reputation. He has contributed to many major psychology and science journals. Kids Will Be Kids is his first book, based on studies he made over the past five years observing his own juvenile patients and their parents.”
    She finally let go of the microphone and motioned to Mark with a tight smile. “Let’s all welcome tonight’s author, Mark Sutter.”
    Tepid applause. Mark forced the practiced smile to his face and took two steps toward the podium.
    Jo-Ann turned and wrapped her hand around the microphone again. The applause died quickly. She waved Mark back. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, “while I have you all here. Such a nice crowd. It’s so wonderful to see people come out on a rainy night to discuss books.”
    Mark shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and waited. He studied the crowd. A twentysomething couple in the second rowhad their heads down, tapping away on their phones. Behind them, a large man in a Yankees cap and blue-and-white Yankees jacket had the Daily News open in front of him.
    Rain pattered the skylight window. Mark glimpsed a flicker of lightning high in the green-black sky. He blinked—and saw someone he recognized in the third row. A young woman in a short blue skirt over black tights and a white tube top.
    His eyes took in the gleaming white-blond hair. Blue eyes. High cheekbones. Red-lipped smile.
    She didn’t register at first. Mainly because she didn’t tell him she’d be there. The improbably named Autumn Holliday, his assistant. She realized he had finally spotted her. She smiled and her eyes went wide. She gave him an excited wave.
    Why did she get all dolled up for this?
    Autumn always showed up at his office in jeans and oversize rock-band T-shirts, her hair tied carelessly back in a ponytail. Now he couldn’t help but stare. She looked like one of those stunning Nordic ice-queen fashion models.
    “Autumn? What are you doing here?” He mouthed the words silently.
    “—Thriller Night here at HamptonBooks,” Jo-Ann was saying. “I think you’ll all want to be here. Our guest author will be Harlan Coben, and if you were here last year, I’m sure you will remember how funny and charming Mr. Coben can be. So . . . don’t forget next Saturday night.”
    Mark forced himself to turn away from Autumn. Jo-Ann was waving him back. This time there was no applause. He could feel the tension in the room.
    Lightning flickered in the skylight above. People shifted their weight, sat up straighter, squeezed the books in their laps. The couple in the second row tucked their phones away.
    Somewhere in the back, a baby cried. Mark suddenly realized there were several babies on laps, swaddled like tiny mummies.
    Mark placed his hands on the sides of the podium. The microphone was a little too low. He leaned into it. “Good evening, everyone. Thanks for coming out on such a lovely night. Instead ofa reading tonight, I know you all probably have a lot of questions. And I thought we could begin