Final Breath

back any time, Earl.'

He balked. 'Um...' He was about to say, 'I'm Eli,' but instead, he just said good- bye to the nice lady. Then he walked away.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dear Elizabeth,

I really enjoyed working with Angela on Movers & Shakers last November. Spending time with your sister and getting to know her was a lovely experience. She had such a wonderful spirit. I was so sorry to hear about her death. In my book, she was a true hero and a very special human being.

I got your kind e-mail today. I'm glad the flowers arrived. Do you by any chance know the name of the florist who delivered them? I'm sorry to bother you with this during such a difficult time, but...

'But what?' Sydney muttered to the computer monitor. What kind of excuse should she use in this e-mail to Angela's grieving sister? How could she explain her interest in the local florist that had delivered the roses she'd never sent? She hoped somehow to trace whoever had put in the order by talking with the people on the delivery end.

But it didn't seem right, bothering Angela's poor sister about this. She was still in shock--and mourning. How devastating to lose a family member in such a violent, bizarre way.

To lose a family member.

Sydney looked at the clock again: 2:40. She sat back in her chair and sighed. Eli had said he'd be back by three. She still had twenty minutes before she went into panic mode. Sydney glanced out the window at the gray clouds forming over Lake Washington. The beach had to be emptying out. Why wasn't he home yet?

The phone rang, giving her a start.

Sydney jumped up from her chair and raced into the kitchen to answer it. She didn't even bother checking the caller ID box first. 'Hello?'

'You sound haggard,' her brother said on the other end.

'I am, totally,' she muttered.

'I figured something was up. Three messages since yesterday afternoon and you sounded more and more frazzled in each one. I was out with friends last night, and by the time I got home, it was too late to call you.'

'So--did you get lucky at least?' she asked, a bit of cynicism creeping into her tone.

'Yeah, I found a dime on the sidewalk. God, I can tell you're mad at me--'

'I'm not,' she insisted. And she wasn't, really. Her brother had a life of his own. She hated herself for being so needy and demanding of his time lately.

'Syd, I was out with work people at this lame-o play and then a late dinner. I dragged my ass home alone at twelve-twenty. I didn't call back because I thought I might wake you guys. I slept in and almost missed opening an open house at nine. That just ended, and now I'm finally calling you back. Okay?'

'Okay,' she said, rubbing her forehead. 'I'm sorry I'm Needy Nelly and left you three messages, but I'm freaking out here.'

''You kids, and all the bickering!'' he said, imitating their late mother. It was scary the way Kyle could sound just like her. Then he lapsed back into his own voice. 'So--what's going on? Why are you freaking out?'

Kyle already knew about Leah and Jared. Sydney told him about Angela Gannon's death, and how--for the second time--someone had sent flowers to the next of kin in her name. 'It's nobody from the network, I checked,' Sydney said.

'It isn't someone on your film crew?' he asked.

'No. That wouldn't be like them. We pass the hat whenever we have to buy someone a birthday cake. If one of them was sending flowers in my name, they'd let me know.'

'That's really screwy,' he said. 'No wonder you're freaking out.'

'Oh, that's just for starters,' Sydney said. She recounted her brush with the stranger in the Mariners 59 T- shirt, the dead robin on her pillow, and the blow-up with Eli last night. She took him right up until three hours ago when Eli had gone off to the beach. 'He didn't answer the lifeguard's page. Maybe he didn't hear it. But with everything that's been happening, I don't want him roaming around by himself.'

'I understand why you're going into meltdown territory, Syd,' Kyle said. 'But Eli's very smart and very mature for his age. He'll be fine. Nothing is about to happen to him in the middle of the day on a crowded beach. He's all right.'

Sydney let out a shaky sigh. 'Kyle, let me remind you that in the middle of a hot July day on a crowded beach--by Lake Sammamish--Ted Bundy abducted two of his victims.'

Kyle was silent for a few seconds. 'That kind of creeps me out,' he admitted. 'Okay, now I'm officially worried, too.'

She glanced at the microwave clock again. 'If Eli's not back in ten minutes, I'm going to the beach again. It should be less crowded. I ought to have a better shot at finding him--' Sydney heard a beep on the line, another call coming in. 'Oh, maybe that's Eli right now,' she said. 'I'll call you back.'

'Okay,' Kyle said, and then he hung up.

Sydney clicked the Flash button on her receiver. 'Hello?'

'Is this Sydney Jordan?' It sounded like a woman, her voice weak. But the nasally whine was very familiar. Sydney hadn't heard that voice in over ten years. She cringed, and her grip tightened on the phone.

'Sydney? Is that you? Hello?'

'Yes, this is Sydney,' she said.

'It's Rikki Cosgrove, Sydney.' There was a pause, in which it seemed she struggled for a breath. 'I saw you on the five o'clock news last night--at that ValuCo thing in Auburn. I had no idea you were back in town. Shame...shame on you for not calling me.'

'I'm sorry, Rikki,' she said. She glanced at the clock again. 'I've just been very busy. How are you? How's Aidan?'

'Oh, I'm not doing so well. I've been seriously ill, Sydney...'

Rikki Cosgrove had always had problems--and demands. Sydney didn't want to hear them now. For the last thirteen years, she'd managed to avoid Aidan's mother. Unfortunately, that had meant losing touch with Aidan.

'Well, you do sound very weak, Rikki. I can barely hear you.'

'Oh, it's true. I can't even get out of bed...'

Sydney wondered if Rikki was still smoking in bed. They say that was how the fire had started. Even with all her respiratory problems, she hadn't quit smoking.

With the cordless phone to her ear, Sydney wandered to the front door, opened it, and stepped outside. She gazed at the courtyard and the gate at the end of the driveway. All the while she listened to that raspy, whiny, weak voice: '...haven't been able to get around for quite a while now. The doctor says there's not much they can do...'

Sydney remembered back when she'd been recuperating in the hospital, trying to keep her spirits up by visiting the other patients. But the one patient she'd missed seeing was the boy whose life she'd saved. So Sydney had arranged a trip--by ambulance--to Harborview Hospital's Burn Center. She'd made arrangements on the phone with Aidan's mother, whom she hadn't met yet either. How was she to know that Rikki Cosgrove had decided to transform the private visit into a media event?

After they'd arrived at Harborview, instead of escorting Sydney to Aidan's room in the ICU, the orderlies took her by wheelchair into the lobby, where two slick-looking hospital PR people met her. They rolled her to the stage entrance of the hospital's small auditorium. Dozens of reporters, photographers, and TV cameramen clogged the aisles and crammed into the first few rows. At least another two hundred people filled the seats. Sydney thanked God she'd had her hair washed recently, and before leaving for Harborview, she'd applied a little makeup and donned a not-too-humiliating, dark-blue sweatsuit. Still, she was wearing a plastic neck brace and one of those halo contraptions with the screws in her forehead. She also had a cast on her right leg, and her arm was in a sling.