Sparkle (36 page)

“I thought you were quitting,” Bjorgeson said.

“I said I was thinking about it.” Joe took a deep drag and blew the smoke over her head. “I don’t think today’s the day.”

“Yeah.”

“I forgot to ask if you needed sugar or milk or anything,” Joe said.

“Yeah. Sugar.”

Joe got up and grabbed the coffeepot and the sugar. He put them both down in front of Pinky.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have all day.”

“Where did Eddie get that supposed evidence—that receipt you gave me?”

“I already told you. He said he got it at the Silver house.” The grisly job seemed light years ago, and the memory of it hit Joe with another pang of discomfort. “Why? Did it mean something?”

Bjorgeson considered her answer carefully. She decided to change the subject. “What’s the deal with Eddie and the Walker girl?”

There was something in Pinky’s voice that Joe didn’t like at all, and when he looked up, the Detective was staring at him with a cold intensity that sent a chill down his spine.

“I don’t know, Detective. I r-r-really can’t say. I’d better take a shower. I’m…really whacked.”

“Sure, Joe.” Bjorgeson looked down at her cup. “Go take care of yourself.”

Joe stood up, grabbed Eddie’s bag, and headed upstairs.

After he was gone, Pinky reached into his pocket and pulled out the Goodwill receipt. She put it on the table in front of her and stared at it blankly. Something extremely strange was happening here, and her mind raced madly trying to figure out what he should do next.

In his room, Joe stiffly peeled off his smelly clothes, being careful with the neck brace. His body felt as though he’d ridden home in a bag full of rocks. He dropped the brace and all of his clothes on the floor, and then held the back of his neck as he walked stiffly down the hall and got in the shower.

The water felt good. He experimented with moving his head. He made the water hotter and ran it hard on the back of his neck. Maybe a decent night’s sleep would help. When that was going to happen, he had no idea. As he warmed up, his head really began to pound.

Joe reached out of the shower into the medicine cabinet and got five Advil tablets. He threw them into his mouth and washed them down with hot water from the shower. Maybe they’d help. And more coffee—definitely a lot more coffee.

There was a disgusting, furry, metallic taste in his mouth. He reached into the medicine cabinet again, this time for his toothpaste and toothbrush, then sat down under the hot spray of the shower and took his time brushing his teeth. It helped some. He didn’t have the energy to shave.

Back in his room, Joe pulled socks and underwear from a drawer, and a clean pair of pants and a shirt from his closet. Screw the neck brace. It made him hot and sweaty, made him feel as if he were choking to death.

Joe dressed slowly. All his joints hurt. He emptied the pockets of his dirty clothes. His mini-cassette recorder fell out onto the bed. He’d forgotten that he was carrying it. He picked it up, pressed record, and held it to his mouth.

“If you’ve got a mess too big to hold,” he sang tunelessly, mocking the sugary commercial voices, “just grab your ass and hold your nose.”

Joe tossed the recorder into a drawer. Another stupid, meaningless habit. Maybe he’d have to give that up, too.

Bjorgeson was walking out of the living room when Joe tromped down the stairs carrying Eddie’s bag.

“Don’t you have to go back to work or something?” Joe said.

“Don’t have to be there until seven-thirty.”

“Oh, well. You want something…to eat or something?” All he wanted was to yell at Pinky to get the hell out of his house, but he forced himself to be polite. He couldn’t shake the feeling that LaVonne was standing right behind him.

“No thanks,” Bjorgeson said. Joe was being too civil. It wasn’t like him, and it wasn’t making Pinky’s job any easier. She realized her recent revelations about Eddie were changing the way she felt about Joe too, from a bemused neutrality to active dislike. It would be wise to wait a little longer to decide how to proceed. “You need a ride back to the hospital?”

“Naw, I’ll take the van.”

There was an awkward pause.

“I need to go downstairs and get some stuff for Eddie,” Joe said, finally. “Mind letting yourself out?”

Pinky didn’t answer. She gave Joe another hard, cold look. Joe looked away and poured himself another cup of coffee. He picked up Eddie’s bag and headed down to the basement.

Bjorgeson poured herself a fresh cup, too, and peered briefly into the fridge. There wasn’t anything in there she wanted. She followed Joe down the stairs.

Joe was scrounging through Eddie’s ultra-organized drawers, distractedly tossing socks and underwear on the couch next to Eddie’s bag. The thought of returning to the hospital was bringing him back to the verge of panic.

Pinky sat down on the only other chair in the room, by the big-screen TV. “I need to ask you some more things about Eddie.” Despite the fact she knew he should wait, she knew the best time to question Joe was when he was bone tired and his defenses were down. She might not get another chance like this.

“Yeah?” Joe said. He felt something odd in Eddie’s bag, and pulled it out halfway.

It was Mark’s gun, still wrapped in its plastic bag. Joe gawked at the ugly thing and held his breath. He felt as though he’d been stabbed in the heart.

“I want you to listen to this and tell me what you think.” Pinky pulled out a recorder of her own and hit play.

“Nine-one-one operator,” a voice said. The recording was thin and tinny.

“Nine. One. One.” Joe recognized Eddie’s voice immediately.

“Please state the nature of the emergency,” the operator said.

“Four-two-two-eight Redview Place,” Eddie said.

“Forty-two twenty-eight Redview Place. What is the nature of the emergency?” the operator said. “Please state the nature of the emergency.”

“Man-sized mess,” Eddie’s voice droned.

Bjorgeson turned off the recording. Just like the Goodwill receipt, she hadn’t shared it with Louis yet. But it was basic evidence. Louis would figure it out himself any time.

Joe‘s back was to Pinky and he was frozen. He hated guns—and there was something oddly familiar about this one that made him feel like a scared kid. He slowly lowered the black thing back into Eddie’s bag. Despite his best effort to control himself, he had to grab his chest hard to get his breath started again.

“That call came in the night Jolie was shot,” Bjorgeson said. “You think that sounds like Eddie?”

Joe zipped up Eddie’s bag and put it on the floor, as casually as possible. He wondered if Pinky could hear his heart pounding. He tried to speak, but only a strangled sound came out. He cleared his throat loudly to cover for himself.

“Funny. No way in hell. There’s no way. Anyway…I really should get back to the hospital.” He moved to the stairs in a daze, holding back the urge to run. You coming, Detective? I really…gotta go.”

“We’ve got other ways to deal with this. You should feel lucky I’m asking you at all.”

“There’s…there’s no way in hell that was Eddie, okay? He was here that night. And it doesn’t sound anything like him. Jesus,” Joe said. “I gotta get back to the hospital. I think you should go.”

Pinky stared at him as if considering what to do next. The moment seemed to last forever. For a split second, Joe had the strange sensation that Bjorgeson was going to come at him. Then she turned without a word and walked deliberately up the stairs. Joe flinched when he heard the front door slam shut behind her.

Chapter 53

Mark parked about a block away from the hospital. The closer he got to actually doing something, the crazier it all seemed. But there was something about it that made him feel more alive and hopeful than he’d felt all week. It was scary as hell, but also weirdly liberating. Maybe he’d get caught. Maybe he’d buy it in a shootout with police. Maybe he’d get away with it.

He wasn’t thinking straight, but he felt like no matter what happened, an unbearable weight was on the verge of being lifted from his shoulders.

Harborview was busier than he’d expected, even at this hour. But that turned out to be a good thing. Nobody took any notice of him as he walked in and looked for the stairway.

He headed up the stairs purposely, all the way to the fourth floor.

When he got there, he peeked out the stairwell door. He was at the end of the hall. He could see the edge of the nurses’ station around the corner in the middle of the floor, quite far away. No one seemed to be around. He came out into the hallway, and couldn’t believe his luck. Jolie’s room was right next to the stairwell door. He looked in, and there she was. Obviously, this was meant to be.

Eddie floated through his house, small and scared. Joe was slumped against the bed. His head and chest were covered with blood that seemed to crawl and throb with life. Far more blood than Eddie had ever seen.

Eddie moved into the hallway. Mom was lying there. She glimmered peacefully, but the shag carpet and her nightgown were soaked crimson. Eddie knelt beside her. He gazed at her blood. As he watched, it swirled and pulsed. But it was slowing down, coagulating, and turning itself from flesh to mud.

Mom was fading. She was leaving. A cold more bitter than any Eddie had ever felt was overtaking her, trying to take her away forever.

Eddie picked up Mom’s limp hand and stroked it clumsily through his own hair. He began to shake, from the cold and from something else. A little warmth was still in Mom’s hand, but it was quietly fading. “Please, Mom,” he whispered. “Please stay.”

He looked up to see an evil crimson light. He felt a chill still wind spilling from his dad’s study at the end of the hall.

Eddie had to go in there.

He stood and quietly walked into the heart of the red. An awful smell hit him as he entered the room. There was Dad, with his back turned, rummaging through his top drawer.

Eddie loved his dad. He was shocked by how hideous he had become. Someone had taken him away, replaced him with this ugly thing. A faint haze of reeking icy smoke steamed off Dad’s shoulders. The nasty little gun lay on the bed. Dad found what he was looking for: a bottle. He took a deep swig.

Eddie moved to the bed. He picked up the gun.

Dad turned around slowly. He looked surprised to see his little boy there, so close.

Eddie raised the gun and placed it against Dad’s chest.

Dad looked down at Eddie with a worried questioning frown but made no other movement.

Eddie heard his mom’s voice.

“Just let go, Eddie.” He felt a weak tug at his pajama bottoms. “Just let go.”

He didn’t look down. He pushed the gun deeper into Dad’s chest and pulled the trigger.

There was a pop, and the gun jumped in Eddie’s hand. Dad’s face twisted into an odd, sad-looking half smile as he slumped, taking Eddie down with him, down onto the floor where Mom was already lying. She had crawled from the hall into Dad’s study, and now they were all three tangled together on the dark, slick wet wood.

Eddie held the gun tightly, wondering whether he should use it one more time.

“Eddie,” Mom whispered, “just let go.” She reached out and touched the gun, and Eddie let loose his hold. Mom placed the gun in Dad’s limp hand.

Her hand stayed there, on top of Dad’s.

Eddie noticed tears falling from his eyes onto Mom’s face. Suddenly, all around her body, a warm gold light emerged. It hovered above her.

Eddie didn’t feel cold anymore.

“Mom,” he said to the gold light. He reached out. The light responded to his touch. He shepherded the spirit toward him. “You can’t go,” he said. He pulled it in, trying to hold it, begging it to stay. At first it seemed to resist.

“If you go, I’ll die,” Eddie whispered.

All the emotion he had left was squashed into the black hole of the moment. The gravity of everything that had happened so quickly was more than enough to crush him out of life. Eddie couldn’t live without his mother. Eddie never lied. His mom knew that.

Eddie heard something that sounded like a huge sigh. He felt the gold wisp relent and enter his body, then burrow itself deep into his heart. There was a hard thump, and his heart beat differently than it had before. He looked down and knew that Mom’s body was dead. But her spirit would stay with him, if that would keep her boy alive.

He grasped his full and aching chest. He disentangled himself and stood. He had become mercifully numb.

There was blood everywhere. Parts of his pajamas were soaked with it.

The Shiny Gold jingle started playing in Eddie’s head, worlds away, and he let himself fall into it, miles deep. He was completely drained of emotion. He was calm. He was at peace.

Eddie realized with a dawning sense of purpose that he had a lot of work to do before morning. He carefully took off his pajama top and bottom, and headed downstairs in only his underpants to find the Shiny Gold.

Eddie opened his eyes. It was as if someone had turned a switch and he was back. Now he knew. He knew what he had done. He knew what was causing the constant, nagging pounding in his heart. He’d wanted to save his mom, to save himself. He’d made a huge mistake. He’d set enough souls free to know that holding his mom’s inside him wasn’t right.

Eddie rose up from his hospital bed. He pulled the intravenous tube from his arm and the monitors from his body. He remembered now. He remembered everything.

He’d shot Dad. Killed him. He hadn’t known that. Nobody knew.

It made sense. Eddie wasn’t nearly as troubled about it as he was about the selfish way he had treated his mom.

He took a robe off a hook and put it on. He felt dizzy and sick, but he had to get up. He walked slowly out of the room and down the hall. He had to go—now. Jolie was here. She was in trouble. He still had a chance to help her. He could feel it.

He’d wanted so badly to connect with her at her house. No wonder he hadn’t been able; Jolie wasn’t there. She wasn’t dead. She was here. It had nearly cost him his life, but he’d found her after all. His memories were back, and so were his gifts. Although his body was weak, they felt stronger than ever.