'Not in my department,' George replied. 'I can't think of anyone at the network who would have done that. The folks in Legal have names and addresses on file from when your interview subjects sign the waivers making sure we don't get sued. But I really doubt anyone in Legal sent the next of kin flowers. Besides, they wouldn't have the addresses of the
'No, of course they wouldn't,' Sydney heard herself say.
'Is there anything else I could do for you, Sydney?'
Numb, Sydney sat down at the tall cafe table in the corner of her kitchen. If no one from the network had sent flowers in her name to the Dvoraks and Angela's sister, then who had? Who would have the addresses of the deceased's relatives?
'Sydney, are you still there?'
'Yes, George,' she said. 'Um, thanks for your help.'
'No worries,' he said. 'I'm sorry about your
'I will. Thanks, George,' she murmured. Then Sydney clicked off the phone.
She sat there in a stupor for a moment until she could smell bacon burning. She put down the cordless phone, quickly got to her feet, and hurried to the stove. 'Eli!' she called, removing the bacon from the grill with a set of tongs. 'We're having our bacon extra crisp! Is that okay with you?'
There was no response from upstairs.
'Honey? Eli?'
Switching off the stove, she headed up the hallway to the foyer. Sydney stopped abruptly when she saw a piece of paper taped to the banister newel post:
Dressed in khaki shorts, gym shoes, and a white T-shirt that had CHICAGO POLICE and their insignia on it, Eli carried a backpack as he shuffled along the sidewalk. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and Madison Park beach was a mob scene. A few boom boxes competed with the ice cream truck that played 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star' over and over. Eli couldn't see any grass on the sloping lawn leading down to the water--just blankets and people, lots of nearly naked people. He noticed one cute teenage girl in a yellow bikini that he liked. She was doing a sexy little dance and squealing--very loudly. Then he saw she had a cigarette in her hand, and he decided between the squealing and the smoking, she was probably a jerk. So Eli moved on, bypassing the beach--even though in his backpack he had a beach blanket, his trunks, and a tube of sunblock.
Passing restaurants, shops, and then the bakery, he walked to the bus stop. His timing was perfect. Eli could see the Number 11 coming up the street. He dug into his pocket for bus fare and Vera Cormier's Christmas card.
The bus came to a stop in front of him and then the door whooshed open. Eli stepped aboard, and dropped his fare into the receptacle. He showed the bus driver Vera's Christmas theme return address sticker on the envelope. 'I need to go to this address,' Eli said. 'Could you tell me where I should transfer and on what line?'
The driver was a thin black woman in her late thirties. She had auburn hair and wore sunglasses. 'Sure, handsome,' she said with a smile. 'Just park it right behind me there in the handicapped area, and I'll tell you what to do. I know that place. It's nice. Visiting a grandparent?'
A dark-skinned man with a green Izod polo shirt and sunglasses stepped in after him. The man threw some money into the machine and then brushed past Eli. He took a seat near the back of the bus.
Eli glanced at him for a moment before he sat down in the handicapped area. 'Um, yes,' he said to the driver, as the bus started moving again. 'I'm visiting my grandmother. And I've never been there before.'
Eli had called Evergreen Point Manor early this morning, while his mother had been downstairs in her office. He'd asked if Vera Cormier still lived there. The operator had told him yes, and would he like to be connected to her extension?
'Um, no thanks,' Eli had whispered into the phone. 'I'd like to surprise her. How--um, how's she doing, by the way?' He'd imagined going all that way to meet with some loopy old lady who couldn't even talk. 'Is she okay?'
'Vera? Oh, Vera's great. She'll outlive us all.'
Eli had thanked the operator, then hung up. It might have been easier to talk with the old lady on the phone, but he remembered something his mother had told him about interviewing people. She'd said online and phone interviews were okay in a pinch, but it was best to do it in person, one-on-one.
He glanced around at some of the other passengers on the bus, and his gazed stopped on the man with the green shirt seated near the back. He looked so familiar. With his dark hair and olive complexion, he looked like an Italian actor in
Gazing at him, Eli remembered something else his mother had said--about her stalker. He was an olive- skinned man, possibly Latino, medium build, and with an eye infection of some sort. This guy on the bus still had on his sunglasses. He wasn't wearing a Felix Hernandez Mariners shirt, but otherwise the guy totally fit the description of this stalker.
Eli kept studying the man, who stared out the bus window. Eli hadn't seen the guy in the Mariners number 59 shirt yesterday. So why did this man on the bus seem so familiar?
Suddenly, the man turned and faced him.
Eli quickly looked away. He remembered him now: the man he'd almost collided with at the fun fair, the one who stood and stared at him. For a while, Eli had thought the guy was following him. He'd even screamed at someone else in a beige top, thinking it had been that man. Then he'd realized his mistake and figured if that man had indeed been following him, he must have given up.
Eli stole a glance at the stranger near the back of the bus, and he realized something.
The man hadn't given up at all.
'MARCO...POLO! MARCO...POLO!' The kids were screaming in the shallow water near the shore. Shrieking, flailing their arms, another swarm of wet children raced by her, and she was sprinkled with water.
Sydney wandered along the shore, looking at all the swimmers, as well as the sunbathers on the grass. The beach was packed, but she didn't see Eli anywhere. There had been a few false alarms, boys who looked like Eli from behind or at a distance, but no Eli.
Craning her neck, Sydney stood on her tiptoes for a better look at a large raft tied to poles in the deep water. It was crammed with people, many of them standing in line to use one of the two diving boards. She couldn't tell from here if Eli was among them.
Sydney waved and mouthed
She felt so frustrated--and anxious. She couldn't really be angry at Eli for leaving the way he had. Obviously, when he'd called down to her while she'd been on the phone, he must have said something about skipping the big breakfast for this beach trip. Why wasn't she listening to him?
She'd warned Eli last night about her stalker. But he hadn't taken her too seriously. And why should he have? He didn't know she was worried about more than just this stranger in a Mariners number 59 T-shirt.
In his note, he'd said he would return at three o'clock. That was two and a half hours from now.
Standing by the lifeguard station, Sydney shielded her eyes from the sun. She scanned all the faces and body types, thinking there was still a chance she'd see Eli. She kept hoping that he'd emerge from the crowd and come toward her.
But she had an awful feeling Eli wasn't anywhere near here.
Eli waited for the swarthy man in the green shirt to take off his sunglasses. He wanted to see if one of his eyes was infected. But the man's glasses stayed on.
