Sparkle Read Free Page A

speechless and numb. The impression was more vivid, real, and immediate than anything else in Eddie’s mind, pretty much the defining characteristic of his existence. Eddie knew blood, in the strongest sense of the word. It had oozed into his cells and marked his soul.
    Joe opened the front door. Like most people entering a deserted, gore-splattered house, he was horrified.
    The blood looked different to Eddie, though. It was an invitation and a challenge. A beautiful mystery. It made him feel comfortable and whole, gave his life purpose. He was a cleaner—the best.
    The moment Eddie stepped over the threshold, he wanted Joe to go away so he could be alone and start spraying Shiny Gold. He knew that he would have to wait a few more minutes, until Joe had acted out his last little routine, but Eddie felt an immediate sense of urgency to do what he could for these people. He could see them, outlined in awkward death sprawls on the floor in chalk. Their blood was the key to unlocking all that was left of them.
    But Joe kept standing behind him in the open doorway in the rain, taking too long to go.
    “Eddie. You spacing out, bro?” Joe had to fight back competing urges to gag and run, but, as always, felt an almost panicky hesitation about leaving his brother alone in such an awful place.
    “Uh-huh. Okay.” Joe’s voice had sounded far away.
    “Good, then,” Joe said. “Let me make sure you’re suited up right.” Eddie turned and stood passively while his brother looked him over.
    “It’s been a while since we did a multiple,” Joe said. “You might feel a little rusty today. So pace yourself, all right?”
    “Uh-huh. Okay,” Eddie processed Joe’s distant words just enough to feel a slight electric fizz of annoyance pass through his brain. “Go, Joe.”
    “Remember to eat your lunch at noon,” Joe persisted. “I’ll be back right at five.” He said the same thing every time he left Eddie behind at a job.
    Eddie turned to face the interior of the house. The impressions here were so strong, he was having difficulty holding back.
    “Okay, Joe,” Eddie said. “Go away. Go away now.”
    Joe sighed deeply as he quietly shut the door. He hung his beat-up, official-looking No entrance by order of Seattle Police sign on the doorknob. Not that anyone was going to show up here. Everyone who had known the former occupants, Joe was certain, would want to stay as far away from this fucked up place as possible.
    On the big front porch, Joe lit his fifth unfiltered Pall Mall of the morning. He shivered slightly, and rubbed the long thick scar that ran from the bottom edge of his jaw to the corner of his right eye. He hated blood.
    Joe looked out at the crazy blowing rain, stretching out over the bay and the city, over the islands and mountains and off as far as he could see.
    These people sure had one hell of a view.
    Even as it flitted into his mind, Joe cursed himself for allowing a personal thought about the victims to sneak up on him. The rain was pelting the other end of the block. Joe watched it sweep down the street toward him.
    A teenage papergirl on a too-small bike raced ahead of the downpour, zipped by, and whipped a Seattle Post-Intelligencer in a plastic baggie toward the porch. She had an arm. The paper hit Joe and sent sparks flying off his cigarette. He clumsily kicked the paper across the porch into a goodsized pile of similar papers, all still wrapped in plastic.
    “They don’t need it!” Joe yelled after her in a strangled voice. She didn’t hear. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Get a clue.”
    Joe stumbled down the slick steps as the rain hit. He raised his voice and yelled halfheartedly down the street, “They’re dead, for Chrissakes!” The girl was already turning the corner at end of the block.
    Wearily, Joe pulled himself up into the dented but clean, badly parked white van with S PARKLE C LEANERS printed on the side. He started it and lurched off. His cell phone rang. Joe swerved