"Noel and I are getting married. You don't have to be jumping up and down with joy, but it would sure be nice if you could suck it up and at least pretend you're happy for me."

"I don't want to have this conversation over the phone," Sadie said. "Let's talk another time."

Dawn reluctantly agreed, and Sadie made a quick excuse to end the call.

Back at home, Sadie felt restless, so after showering, she got dressed again and headed out into the rain. She took her car this time-n.o.body liked to see the Scene-2-Clean van in a neighbor's driveway.

When she reached the Hawkins Avenue house, she used her spare key and let herself into the cozy split-level. Her footsteps echoed as she walked through the vacant home, flipping on only a couple of lights. She told herself that, as part owner of the property, she should do a walk-through while the place was still vacant.

After all, just because Maureen is taking care of the house, Sadie thought, they shouldn't forget to perform their due diligence by giving an occasional visual inspection.

Brian's old house had been vacant barely a month this time. Maureen had prepped the place for the new tenants with a fresh coat of paint. When Sadie closed her eyes and breathed deep, the smell of paint brought her back to the days when she'd helped Brian fix the place up.

She walked around the house and noticed the carpets were also newly shampooed. The house looked good, but Sadie knew Brian would've hated the priscilla curtains in the kitchen and the pale neutral shades. He'd loved strong, masculine colors with rich textures and deep tones.

Glancing into the backyard, Sadie smiled at the memory that Brian had wanted to build a rock-climbing wall on the side of the fence.

Sadie walked down the hallway, cut through the master bedroom, and hesitated only briefly before entering the small master bath. For a split second, she saw the room exactly as she'd found it on that morning five years ago. A rifle on the floor and Brian's lifeless body badly decomposed in the bathtub, his blood and brain spatter painting a macabre death scene on the walls.

Sadie climbed into the bathtub where Brian had lain. Her heart twisted in painful memory. He, like many suicides, had probably thought it would be an easier clean if he did it in the tub. Most people had no idea the kind of bloodbath a small room took when a bullet exploded someone's head.

With her legs pulled up close to her chest, Sadie waited. She knew in her heart that Brian's spirit wouldn't come. It never had before. Still, desperate yearning filled her with pathetic hope.

After a couple minutes she let her head drop to her knees and she moaned softly. She felt it was a cruel irony that she couldn't talk to those who chose suicide, as though G.o.d had cursed her with her gift as a joke.

She quietly sobbed against her knees, her body shaking with the force of her grief. After a while all her energy evaporated on a whoosh of exhaled breath and nothing was left in its place but pain.

When the phone rang, Sadie thought for an instant that she was still in Brian's bathtub instead of at home in her own bed. It took her a few seconds to reorient herself and fumble for the bedside extension.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Who's the jokester who wrote on the walls in blood?" Zack demanded. He sounded p.i.s.sed. It wasn't a great way to wake up.

"You're back? And you're already at the house?" Sadie asked, swinging her legs out of bed and squinting at the clock. "Oh my G.o.d, it's nearly noon!"

She was up and stripping out of her sleepwear as she spoke.

"Yeah. I just got in and decided to come straight here. I thought maybe you'd gotten another call while I was in Portland."

"No, I overslept." She never overslept. h.e.l.l, she hardly ever slept through the night at all. "How's your mother?"

"Fine. It was a mild fracture. She'll be good as new in a few weeks."

"Good. Great." She took the cordless phone into the bathroom and turned on the shower. "I'll be there in half an hour."

"Do I want to know about this message on the wall?"

"Probably not."

With her hair still damp from the shower, Sadie slipped her hazmat suit over her clothes, zipping it up as she walked. Zack had left the back door unlocked, which annoyed the h.e.l.l out of her.

"Anyone could walk right in here," she sniped, thinking of Kent Lasko.

"Sorry. Thought I'd locked it," Zack said, but he never looked up from where he was systematically cutting blood-soaked fabric from the sofa.

"You should be more careful."

He didn't reply but began cutting with harsher movements. She'd p.i.s.sed him off.

"I'm going to finish upstairs." She paused. "I'm glad your mom's okay. It's good to have you back."

He glanced at the wall where Trudy's message was scrawled, and Sadie answered the question in his eyes.

"It was Trudy."

He sat back on his haunches and folded his arms across his chest. "You've never had one write you a note before, have you?"

She shook her head.

"I like it a lot better when they talk," he mumbled. "When only you can hear what they say. It's easier for me to pretend you're just crazy."

The look in his eyes told her he wasn't kidding.

"Face it-you'd be bored if I was normal."

He grumbled something about boredom not always being such a bad thing.

When Sadie got into the bedroom, it was as if Trudy was waiting for her. She greeted her with that strange thumbs-up gesture, and Sadie responded with a two-finger salute.

"You know, things will be much better for you once you let go," Sadie said gently. "You don't belong here anymore. It's time to move on."

Trudy's only response was to walk to the corner of the room where the carpet was crusty with hardened congealed blood. She began to rub her finger in it, and Sadie's anger spiked through her.

"No!" she hissed and moved to stop Trudy, but she needn't have bothered. In frustration, Trudy only pounded the floor with her fists, but her ghostly hands made no sound, and then she was gone.

Sadie was glad to see her go. It would be easier getting the job done without a crazy ghost hanging around, and the sooner she could finish this job, the better. This place was getting to her.

Sadie speedily worked through the bedroom, and Trudy didn't return to hara.s.s her. When she carried waste bins filled with carpeting downstairs, she saw that Zack had already removed all traces of Trudy's message. For a split second it bothered her that she hadn't thought of taking a picture, but she pushed that thought away.

The Toths had used a semigloss paint on the walls. If they'd used a flat paint, there would've been no scrubbing anything away and the drywall would've had to be cut out.

"We'll be able to start stage two tomorrow," Zack said as they doffed their gear in the kitchen.

"That'll be a relief," Sadie admitted. They both hated the awkward suits, goggles, and other gear necessary for working with blood.

In the second stage of the clean, they would need only to wear gloves to protect their skin from the harsh cleaning chemicals, and they could wear regular grubby clothes instead of the disposable Tyvek suits and face masks.

Sadie was bent over and tugging the booties off her shoes when she got the feeling she was being watched. She straightened and glanced at Zack.

"You were just totally checking out my a.s.s!"

"Not my fault." He put his hands up. "If you're going to bend over like that, I'm going to look."

"Want to get a beer?" he asked a minute later, combing his fingers through his hair. "There's a place a few blocks away."

"Sure," Sadie replied as she stretched her aching back.

They took their own vehicles so they could go their separate ways afterward. Even though the rain was still sputtering outside, Sadie rolled down her window for the drive. As she followed Zack's car down the street, the damp, icy breeze blew in, smelling of wet earth and the fishy Pacific. By the time she'd driven the few blocks to the pub, the wind had blown death out of her thoughts.

They found a corner table in the trendy neighborhood watering hole and ordered a preppy microbrew. Most of the executive clientele had gone for the day, and the numerous televisions sounded loud in the emptiness. Sadie and Zack both turned when a newscaster began to talk about a woman's body discovered in her home earlier in the day.

"The mail carrier reported a foul smell coming from the home and contacted the police," the anchorman stated. "The medical examiner advised that the woman had been dead for a couple of weeks, but no foul play is suspected."

"A dripper," Zack commented and sipped his beer.

"Think we'll get the call?" Sadie wondered.

"Who else they gonna call but Slime Busters?" he joked.

The next news story showed Seattle PD handcuffing some thugs. Zack frowned at the screen.

"Do you miss being on the job?" Sadie asked.

"Nah," he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Sadie suspected he was lying, but the subject was moot. Zack couldn't go back to being a cop any more than she could return to teaching second grade. He'd taken a bullet for his partner, a n.o.ble thing to do. But then he'd gotten hooked on painkillers, roughed up a suspect, been caught on video by a citizen, and handed in his badge before they could ask for it. He'd spent a year washing Vicodin down with whiskey, getting into brawls, and doing other things he wasn't proud of before he snapped out of it and checked into rehab. One day he saw Sadie's van on the news. He called her and asked for a job, and Seattle PD's loss became her gain.

Zack ordered a heaping pile of nachos to go with their beers. After he'd eaten most of the chips, he got up to go.

"I'm beat," he said. "I'll see you in the morning."

"See ya in the morning," Sadie echoed.

She ordered a second beer but hardly drank any of it. She was looking around the pub and wondering if Grant and Trudy Toth had ever come here. That led her to wonder if Kent Lasko had joined them.

She knew she should leave, but she didn't feel like heading to her empty home. She approached the bartender and asked if she could take a look at his phone book. After he handed it to her, she quickly found the listing for Kent Lasko, the one with the disconnected phone. She figured if the number was disconnected it meant either that he'd moved since the number went in the white pages or that he'd changed his number and was still living there. She jotted down the street address and returned the phone book to the bartender.

Curiosity got the better of her and she decided to drive over. On the way, she told herself there was a good chance Kent had moved. Still, when she pulled up to the address and saw lights on inside the house, excitement raced through her. There was no way she would be able to sleep for wondering if he still lived in the house or if the new owner knew Kent Lasko's current address.

The rain was torrential now, and getting to the front door was like running through a waterfall. Just as she was about to knock, she heard footsteps and turned to face a man coming up behind her with keys in his hand.

Her face fell. This guy wasn't Kent Lasko. This guy was blond but thinner, taller, and a few years younger than the man she'd met. He was dressed in a designer running outfit and was obviously just returning from jogging.

"I'm looking for Kent Lasko. He used to live here."

"He still does," the young man replied. He stepped in front of her and opened the door.

"Hey, Kent, there's some lady here for you," he called. He turned to Sadie. "Come in."

"I'm fine," Sadie replied, choosing to remain on the front steps in the rain.

"Suit yourself."

The young man stepped inside, bent and untied his expensive jogging shoes, and tugged his dripping nylon hoodie over his head.

Kent Lasko walked around the corner from the hall. His mouth dropped in a fleeting look of surprise that was quickly replaced by a cool, practiced smile that made Sadie's skin crawl.

5.

"h.e.l.lo, I'm Kent. You probably know that since you obviously tracked me down." He stuck out his hand and offered a charming smile to go with it.

Sadie gave his fingers a quick squeeze.

"You were working at Trudy's house, right?" he asked. "It's a little hard to recognize you out of your blue astronaut suit."

Sadie nodded. "I'm Sadie Novak." She held her hand over her eyes to shield her face from the rain. "I tried calling you, but your phone number was disconnected."

"We had our number changed recently. Oh, and this guy who loves to run in the rain is my brother, Christian." Kent nodded to his brother. "Christian, Sadie here is working on cleaning Grant's house."

Christian's immediate reaction was to look appalled, but he recovered his manners, said h.e.l.lo, and offered his hand. When she shook it, Sadie noticed his eyes quickly appraised her damp shirt.

"Nice to meet you," he said. "The Toths were very nice people. It's a shame what happened."

"Yes, it is," she agreed.

"I'm going to go change," he said and excused himself, disappearing inside the house.

Then there was an awkward pause. She knew she should tell Kent Lasko why she'd tracked him down, but she hadn't really planned on actually finding him, so her confidence was a bit shaken.

"It's pouring. Come inside." He waved his hand and stepped aside to allow her entry. "My brother loves the rain, but personally, I think this weather is only great for crazy joggers and ducks."

"That's okay. Really," Sadie replied. Because you're either a looter or a freak, and neither option appeals to me, even if you do have the bluest eyes I've ever seen.

"How can I help you, then, Miss Novak?"

"You can tell me what you were doing inside the Toth house."

"I should've explained myself at the time, but truthfully, you didn't seem much interested. Maybe you were too involved in your work?"

"Yes." Well, that and the fact that I thought you were a ghost.