Sparkle (35 page)

“No wonder people are sick here,” he muttered after the fifth or sixth time someone came in to poke or prod Eddie or his roommate. “No one gets any damn sleep.”

Every time he did sleep, he started dreaming that he was with his dad at the Pilots game. His dad knocked him down to catch the home-run ball. This time, though, Joe was sure the ball was going to pop his old man right in the head.

Someone made a noise, and Joe opened his crusty eyes to see that a nurse had come into the room. She turned up the bright fluorescent lights that had been mercifully dimmed overnight. Joe squeezed his eyes shut again, momentarily blinded.

“Morning, hon,” she said. She was an older frumpy blonde who looked mildly frazzled.

“Ohhhh,” Joe groaned. His chin was wet. He wiped it with the back of his hand. He felt lower. There was drool on his neck brace, too. Cool.

“Sorry, hon, I didn’t catch that.” The nurse was checking Eddie’s blood pressure.

“What…time is it?” Joe stammered. His neck hurt like hell, his head was pounding, and the little bit of sleep he had snatched had made him even more exhausted. He felt as though his bones were vibrating, and his mouth tasted as if something had died in it.

“It’s four, hon. We like to get started early. I need to make sure his blood pressure and everything is okay. For his brain scan.”

“Brain scan? When’s that going to happen?” How the hell are we going to pay for that?

“Some time today.”

“Who said he needed a brain scan?”

The nurse gave Joe a kind look. “His doctor, of course.”

“Right. Sorry.” Joe forced himself up and out of his chair. He felt as though he were about a hundred and fifty years old. He slouched down the hall to the elevator, intent on snagging a smoke outside. He couldn’t quite seem to look straight ahead.

To get to the smoking area, he had to go through the emergency room, the brightest, busiest, and most depressing place in the entire hospital. The few sad cases sitting there waiting looked even more hopeless than Joe.

Outside, it was still dark. One old wreck was already sitting on the smokers’ bench, dragging away. Joe didn’t know if he was surprised or not. He half-wondered if the guy had been there all night.

Joe dug out his last smoke and lit up, wadded up the pack and tossed it in the ashcan.

“You’re up early,” the old guy croaked.

Joe felt a sudden startling detachment. Then he had the strangest sensation ever, as if he were watching himself and the old man from above. For an instant he wasn’t entirely sure which of the two wrecks below was which.

“I wanted to catch the sunrise,” he heard himself say.

“Ain’t gonna happen for another hour at least,” the old man said. “Clear sky, though. Looks like another beautiful day in hell—” He began coughing, slowly at first, but then uncontrollably, his thin chest shaking and heaving. He dropped his smoke on the ground.

“You all right?” Joe asked. The old man seemed to be nodding in between spasms, but he didn’t look so good. Joe stood up and watched helplessly. The man couldn’t stop gasping, and now he was practically lying on the bench.

Joe started to panic, though he couldn’t have said whether he was afraid for the man or for himself. He hurried inside and managed to tell the receptionist that one of the smokers immediately needed help.

Shaken, he lowered himself into one of the chairs in the waiting area as a doctor and nurse rushed outside. His knees were bouncing up and down. The old man had been like a vision. What if Eddie never got better? What if Joe had put his brother into a permanent coma, or if he died? Or what if he got better and Joe got thrown in jail?

No matter what happened, Joe thought, he was screwed. He might well end up like that old guy, coughing up the last dregs of his bitterness, waiting around for death to release him from some horrible situation like this.

All of a sudden, he felt a strong wave of rage toward his dad. Eddie had blown him away by saying it before they left for the job at Jolie’s, but he had been right; Joe wasn’t his father. In fact, Joe thought, he had sucked at taking care of Eddie from day one. It wasn’t his rightful job, and never should’ve been.

It wasn’t any huge revelation, just common sense. But Joe would never have let himself think such a disquieting thought if Eddie hadn’t thrown it at him first. Even with that, Joe thought, it had taken a long time to penetrate his skull. Admitting that Eddie had a good point made Joe dizzy and confused. If he wasn’t Eddie’s caretaker…then what was he?

Mark was up and pacing in his apartment long before sunrise. He was in a foul mood, and even though he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, he felt like he was under the influence. Not in his right mind. He was sweating and shaking. Probably having some kind of PTSD reaction. The whole thing was so much like what had happened with his girlfriend Theresa and her brother. Everyone had been supportive at the time, complimenting him on how well he’d handled the situation. But a big part of why he’d moved out of Utah was to escape the constant reminders. There was no escape, really. There was just an incredible bubble of bitterness—hatred—that had been building up in him for several years. It was about to burst.

He was trying to decide if he should wear a disguise to the hospital. He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, but this part, at least, seemed logical somehow. The problem was, it needed to look like a disguise that wasn’t really a disguise, in the unlikely event that someone he knew also decided to make an early-morning visit.

This was the first day Jolie would be allowed visitors. He had to get there before visiting hours, just in case she awoke and started talking Mark knew she was adopted and had no relationship with what he’d once heard her sadly dismiss as her “so-called family.” He doubted that anyone else from the zoo would show up at the crack of dawn. But he couldn’t be too careful.

He hadn’t slept well. In fact, he’d hardly slept all week. Even before the disaster with Jolie, he kept waking up jittery and cold, plagued by bad dreams he couldn’t remember.

He’d been sure he had killed Jolie. Finding out that she was alive had been a huge shock. He’d suffered an incredible pang of fear the instant he heard. And then, for the briefest time, relief that she was alive.

He would never have run the way he had if he’d known…but now it was too late. There was no going back. He was not going to be put in prison, have his entire life go down in flames, over one well-intentioned mistake.

As long as Jolie didn’t recover the ability to speak, Eddie would remain the prime suspect. It was only fair. The whole thing really was Eddie’s fault; he’d created the dangerous situation. Mark was only trying to rectify it. Why should he be punished for trying to do the right thing?

The fact was, Jolie would never be the same. There was a good chance she’d end up a vegetable, or face some other awful consequence of partial recovery. The damage had already been done.

When animals at the zoo were that severely injured, there was only one humane solution. Jolie had never said a word against that. Why force them into a lifetime of diminished abilities, of needless suffering? Her situation wasn’t that different. Mark kept telling himself, over and over, that he would be saving her from a lifetime of misery. She would probably agree that what he was planning would be best for everybody—even Eddie. He would be much safer locked up than wandering around having crazy fits every time somebody touched him.

Mark had a white lab coat he’d worn one Halloween. But when he tried it on, thinking he could pose as a doctor, it looked really stupid. Plus, if anyone he knew happened to see him in it, they’d be bound to ask some uncomfortable questions. He thought about trying to make a mustache out of something. Sunglasses; combing his hair funny; a suit.

He finally decided that the safest course would be to simply wear dark nondescript clothes. He’d just be very, very careful to be seen by as few people as possible.

He’d park down the street, take a side entrance if possible, take the stairs up, avoid the elevators. And if it didn’t work out today, he’d at least have more information to help him try again tomorrow.

Mark looked at his watch. He’d get to the hospital well before 5:00
A.M.
That seemed like a good idea. He’d never been inside Harborview before, and he didn’t know much about hospitals. But he knew it was a huge place, he had Jolie’s room number, and he figured things would still be quiet this early, with few staff on duty and no visitors hanging around.

When Mark was in middle school, he and a few of his buddies had played a game where one of them would stand in front of a bed and take a bunch of deep breaths, then hold his head way back. Another friend would press his fingers into the victim’s neck, on either side of the Adam’s apple— on the jugular veins. He wouldn’t have to press very hard, and it wasn’t painful. After about ten seconds or less the victim would pass out and fall flat onto the bed.

Usually you’d only be knocked out for a few seconds, Mark remembered, but you’d have these wild sensations as though you were spinning, and your vision would go red and then black. It felt as if you were out for a lot longer. Sometimes it would be really funny because the recipient would thrash around like a spastic on the bed.

Everyone always said you had to be careful not to squeeze a person’s neck too long, even for a couple of minutes. They could get permanent brain damage, or die. And they wouldn’t feel a thing.

When Joe got back to Eddie’s room, Detective Bjorgeson was there, standing over Eddie’s bed with her back to the door.

“Hey, Detective,” Joe said. “What’s up?”

Pinky stood up straight and turned around. Her expression quickly changed from slight disgust to worried concern. “Hey, Joe. I was wondering if you were here.”

“You’re up early.” Joe needed to sit down. Eddie stirred uncomfortably and moaned. Joe hurried to his side. Eddie’s breathing seemed ragged and uncomfortable, but as Pinky moved out of the way and Joe’s hand touched his brother’s shoulder, Eddie seemed to calm down.

“You don’t look too great,” Bjorgeson said.

“Long n-n-night,” Joe muttered, rubbing his aching head.

“I can tell. So, how’s he doing? Has he woken up at all?”

“No,” Joe said. “I don’t know how he is. Nobody’s telling me much. I haven’t really … even talked to a doctor yet. I guess he’s going to have a b-b-brain scan.”

“How are you doing?”

“I’m thinking about…quitting smoking.”

“Yeah?” Pinky said. “Those things’ll kill you.” Joe really looked haggard. And the neck brace looked ridiculous. “Are you shaking?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Damn.”

“I feel terrible about Jolie,” Joe said.

“Yeah? I hear she’s got a decent chance of making it.”

“I hope she does. Eddie…really likes her.” Joe looked down at his brother. “You hear that, Eddie? Jolie’s here. You’re in the hospital and she’s here too. She’s downstairs, just one floor down. I think…she’s going to be all right.”

Eddie’s mouth seemed to move ever so slightly as Joe spoke, and it was almost as if his head were shaking slightly from side to side, but Joe’s vision was a bit blurry, and he wasn’t sure if he was just imagining it.

“Sorry about Eddie,” Bjorgeson said.

“Me, too. I was thinking about heading home… I guess I should grab some of Eddie’s stuff. I could really use…a shower or something. I’m rank. This place is starting to freak me out.”

“I can see that. They brought you here in an ambulance, didn’t they?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, come on. I’ll give you a ride.”

“All right,” Joe said. Anything to get out. At least for a while.

Pinky had parked her Crown Victoria right out front in the noparking zone. “One of the few benefits of being a cop.”

Joe didn’t answer, and they rode in silence. Bjorgeson had a million questions, but she bit her tongue. She’d always tried to practice patience, even though she wasn’t a patient woman by nature. For the moment, time was on her side.

After another ten minutes of silence, Joe said, “So I guess we’re in pretty bad trouble about what Eddie did to that house, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

They pulled up and parked on the street in front of Joe and Eddie’s place. It was going to be a beautiful day. The sun was just coming up, and the moist chill was already off the air. It usually rained a lot more in May.

Joe felt cold. His hands were clammy, and the buzzing in his ears wouldn’t stop. The van was there, just as LaVonne had said. It could’ve been worse, he thought. At least it was drivable.

He briefly inspected the van’s exterior. It didn’t look much worse than it had before. He felt Bjorgeson’s presence behind him as he fumbled with his keys to open the door. He climbed into the passenger seat, put his key in the ignition, and turned it. The thing whined only a little before it fired up. Joe listened to the engine a minute, then shut it off, opened the glove compartment, and grabbed a fresh pack of Pall Malls.

Eddie’s canvas bag was on the seat where Joe had left it. If and when Eddie woke up, Joe thought, his bag would probably be the first thing he’d want. Joe grabbed it and rolled out of the van.

“Thanks for the ride. I guess I’ll see you later.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and shambled up the walk.

Pinky followed him. “I could use some coffee,” she said, as Joe messed with his keys in the front door. “You got any? I mean, you mind if I come in?”

“Doesn’t bother me.” Joe opened the door. Despite how awful he felt, and the fact he’d never cared much for her, the lady had just rescued him from the hospital.

All Joe had to do was fill the pot on the coffee maker with water, turn it on, and pour it through. Eddie had left a fresh filter with coffee in it all ready to go. Joe’s cold hands shook slightly as he poured the water. It irritated him that they wouldn’t stop.

“So what’s Eddie’s deal, really?” Pinky said.

Joe farted loudly. “Excuse me,” he said. He hovered by the coffeemaker, holding his wavering cup directly under the hot black drip. When it was half full, he dumped in some sugar and took a quick slurp, trying not to burn himself. When the pot was full, Joe poured another cup and put it down in front of Pinky, then sat down at the kitchen table and lit a smoke. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his hair.