I walked the ramparts of El Morro’s stone walls and the wind asked me, What is there here for you? Leave this monument to war and find peace in the forest. Still, I walked. The open ocean hugged one side of the battlements, the old city the other. Both vistas called me—the surging ocean with its wild currents and the well-constructed old city. Would I find peace in wildness or in order? Revenge for my parents’ death or healing for the needy?
Night fell, as sudden as a sneeze this close to the equator, and the stress of the last several days caught up to me. I sat heavily in the courtyard of an apartment building. It was high above La Perla, the city slums below Old San Juan. I leaned against a wall, listening to the faint sounds of the shanties and alleys below. Sea breezes began a steady march inland and cooled the earth. Stars rose and fell and I relaxed into the rhythms of the night.
The sounds of explosive breathing—a grunting family of pigs—drew me out of my reverie. I lay very still as the sow and her shoats snuffed at my legs. Indifferent, they moved on, heading on their rounds before returning to La Perla. It was possible that I was the wealthiest person in the world, and yet I had nothing of interest to a drove of swine.
With that observation, I was ready to travel to El Yunque, to meet Abuela. How would I find my mother’s family—my family? I had only a small photograph of the old woman. I could imagine my mother telling me that Yocahu would show the way.
As the sun inched above the horizon, my P-cab rolled to a silent stop at El Portal, the visitor center at the rainforest entrance. This was part of the journey that a frightened thirteen-year-old girl had taken. She had just lost her mother. I’d just lost mine.
I decided to explore the rainforest that my mother held so dearly. Perhaps I’d find Denise Warren, the NMech bookkeeper we’d met at the beginning of the Great Washout. I put that thought aside; it would be another NMech reminder. I wanted to see El Yunque with the same clear eyes that my mother would have brought to bear on it.
Which way to go? El Yunque Peak beckoned, a bristling shard of rock, green-carpeted and crowned with misty clouds. Was this the home of the legendary Yocahu? A place of magic or mere volcanic debris hoisted up during the formation of the Caribbean tectonic plate?
The morning’s hike brought me six kilometers to the peak. Would the All-Powerful deity descend from the mountain like Moses carrying the Law writ in stone? What a waste! At least I had kept my promise and come to the mountain.
I sensed the presence behind me before I saw her. No footsteps announced her approach. A small, wizened figure stood near, just as she’d once stood near my mother. Again, she was still, save a crooning voice. The old woman’s face was even more deeply lined with sun and age and care but her eyes shone clearly. She spoke the same words to me as she had to my mother.
“Hijo” she intoned, stretching out the vowels—child. A single word carrying eight decades of love and wisdom. Abuela. My great-grandmother. She was real.
“Hijo...Mira aquí.” Look here. Abuela touched her hand to my heart. “Estás tan airado.” You are so angry.
“I’m not angry, Abuela,” I had said. “I’m just tired and sad and I miss my mother and father.”
Abuela merely pointed to my tightly-clenched fist. Then she took my hand, uncurled the fingers and led me into the rainforest, into a place where I could choose peace and life.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many hands make lighter work and several pair contributed to Little Deadly Things. First, infinite thanks to Jody for insisting that a quarter-century’s germination was enough. She went all in on my dream. Jody read more drafts than you’ll find in an old New England barn. Lordy, I love that woman.
My thanks to:
My father for inspiring me to write. He compelled me to write compositions on Saturday mornings, on a light blue, three-legged stool in the bathroom. I wished I’d asked him why he chose that particular venue.
Dr. Allison Lloyd McDonough, medicine woman and healer, who answered more medical questions than appear on the MCAT exam.
It’s easy to create a villain, to dream up dirty deeds. It’s not so easy to imbue a villian with humanity. I would have failed without expert guidance from Dr. Steven Krugman and Sybil Houlding. Neither allowed me to remain in the flat-plane world of Bad Seed cliché. I struggled for four years to bring Eva from the unformed to the expressible and would not have found her character without Sybil and Steve’s astute coaching. Sybil is the brightest living light of the psychoanalytic community. That she is my sister is irrelevant.
Murray Steinman, P.R. and branding maven. That he is my brother is not irrelevant in the least. Need a good PR firm? Talk to Murray.
Roger Gefvert—one of the two gentlest people I know. He is artful, thoughtful, and talented like you wouldn’t believe, and generous with his labor. Thank you, Roger, for the cover and interior design. Wow!
Jordan Rich, for your unexpected generosity in promoting Little Deadly Things. You helped me get author blurbs and put me on the airwaves. Cool!
Rebecca Houlding, who helped keep the courtroom scene tethered to reality. She and her father are the world’s greatest attorneys. That she is my niece is irrelevant.
Attorney David Ceruolo, for quick answers to many legal questions.
Dr. Lindsay Drennan-Harris, for explaining the chemistry of iron, the Little Atom That Could.
Terri Bright, soon to be Dr. Terri Bright. She is one of the country’s unheralded experts on canine behavior. She is my mentor and friend, and the only Agility competitor brave enough to run a bull terrier and skilled enough to win. Her training regimen at the MSPCA is unique. My understanding of behaviorism is a tribute to Terri’s patient reinforcement.
Crystal Campbell, Keyboard Wizard, for creating a most wonderful website.
Those kind souls who labored through a dismal first draft: Pete Solomon, town librarian and the first to read and encourage; very longtime friends and very dear ones: Jeremy Landau, Melody Urso, and Erin Prophet (tied for first place on the Gentle Scale). Encouragement also came from Lawrence and Elizabeth MacDonald, and from Val Rounds.
Dr. Nancy Krieger, childhood friend, for laboring through a later draft. You are way supportive, and too cool for school, just as you were when we were kids.
Old friend, Jerry Posner, just for being you. Mr. Positive.
Writer and editor Guy Maynard, for his honest reactions and deservedly scant praise of that first draft. Thank you for encouraging me, even though this genre is not your cup of meat.
John Guerrasio, actor and friend. Another who egged me on. “Write! It’s good for you!” he said. I admire John because he set out to do what he loves and succeeded.
Eric Sunden, Mr. Patience, for your help with the Kickstarter video...and for pointing out that Fajardo is in the north, not the south of Borinquen. Ooops.
Justin Cattachio, for the Dunedin Kickstarter videos. Oh, heck, all the supporters in that wonderful town.
W. Javier Colon, for help with colloquial Puerto Rican Spanish, and for being young, and idealistic. Be bold.
Michelle Toth, a fine author and teacher, for the inspiration to, and the roadmap for self-publication. Plus, answering a million questions later on.
Amy MacKinnon, another fine author and teacher, who possessed the patience to explain basic writing craft without which I should not have begun and would not have finished.
Editor Stuart Horwitz, of Book Architecture. Professionals make it look easy.
Victoria Wright, Editor Ninja Supreme, for holding me accountable and for being so damned smart. A joy to work with you.
To the selfless and talented folk at Grubstreet. Love, not money, drives them.
To you all, for spending your time with Little Deadly Things. Mil gracias.
Table of Contents
ONE // BEGINNINGS Prologue: Feasible Control
1 Suffer the Little Children
2 The Rozen Plan
3 Taína
4 A Boy and
His Dog
5 School Days
6 An Eighteen Inch Journey
7 Walking With Juricán
8 Two Verdicts
9 Extinction Burst
10 Discontent, Renewal, and Disquiet
11 Rafael
12 Harvard
TWO // CERBERUS Prologue: Rudolph
13 An Uneasy Reunion
14 Home Schooling
15 Counterpoint
16 ZVI
17 Halcyon Days
18 Whom the Gods Would Destroy
19 In Dreams
20 Debate
21 Disaster
22 Diamonds and Dust
THREE // THE GREAT WASHOUT Prologue: Public Works
23 Unquiet Phenomena
24 A Gentle Touch is All
25 Second Skin
26 Departures
27 Guessing Games
28 The Great Washout
29 The Fourth Floor
30 Recovery
31 My Mother
32 Cerberus (II)
33 Dead Man’s Switch
34 Special Prosecutor
35 Gray Goo
36 A Promise
37 Mea Culpa
38 El Yunque
Acknowledgements
Little Deadly Things Page 32