Final Breath

off.

During one of her many rants over the weekend, Meredith's mother had asked, 'How long do you intend to keep up this Will and Grace thing with Troy?'

As long as I can, Meredith had thought. She knew it was only temporary with Troy. All it would take was a certain guy to come along, and she would lose him.

She reached the third-floor landing and caught her breath. At the door, she put down her suitcase and bag, then pulled the keys out of her purse. Slipping the key in the door, she realized it was unlocked.

Frowning, Meredith opened the door and peeked inside. All the shades were drawn, and the air-conditioning was off. Stepping into the dark, sweltering apartment, she noticed Troy's T-shirt and sneakers on the living room floor. The place smelled like a bar near closing: rank, smoky, and sweaty.

She figured Troy must have had a wild night if he'd forgotten to lock the door--and he was still asleep in this suffocating heat.

Meredith retrieved her suitcase and bag, then set them inside the door. She adjusted the window blinds and switched on the air conditioner. Swiping Troy's T-shirt from the floor, she couldn't resist sniffing it. One solace, it was just his T-shirt. His date from last night was long gone. She glanced over toward his bedroom door. It was open.

She headed into Troy's room. 'Well, somebody was a real slut last night. I just hope--'

The next word got caught in Meredith's throat.

She saw the TV was on--stuck on the main menu of a porn movie. Troy's jeans and underwear littered the floor, along with the porn DVD cover.

Naked, Troy slumped forward under the suspension bar of his home gym. The bar held a pull-beam for some weights. And at the moment, it also held him dangling and lifeless. Wrapped around Troy's neck, his belt was twisted in knots and buckled over the support beam.

At his feet--on the floor--was a lemon cut in half and a bottle of lubricant.

Paralyzed, Meredith couldn't quite comprehend what she was seeing. Troy's handsome face was a bluish color, and his tongue protruded over his lips. His dead, half-closed eyes seemed to stare at the floor.

Though she didn't realize it then, Meredith had been right about her and Troy. It had ended just as she'd figured it would.

A certain guy had come along, and she'd lost Troy.

'Well, you packed up, took his son and moved to Seattle two months ago,' Kyle said. 'You didn't take a toothbrush, Syd. You had furniture shipped here. Did you expect Joe to put his life on hold for you all this time? I mean, this isn't just a little break. You have a six-month lease here. You've officially left him, Syd...'

They stood outside the kitchen door--along the railing that overlooked Lake Washington. The building provided some shade, but it was still warm along that little stretch of concrete behind the apartment. They'd stepped out there so Eli wouldn't hear them. He was watching TV in the living room.

Her hair pulled back in a ponytail, Sydney looked tired, and knew it. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and had been inside all morning. She wore some knock-around tan shorts and an old green print top.

It was now 1:30 in the afternoon. Troy Bischoff still hadn't phoned her back yet. She'd put in another call to Caitlin Trueblood a half hour ago to make sure she was still all right. Caitlin probably thought she was crazy. Sydney had even considered getting ahold of one of Via's representatives to make sure the superstar hadn't suddenly met a grisly demise. But then she'd gone online and read that Via was in the middle of a European tour.

Of course, she'd never heard back from Joe. Then again, why should she? Her brother had a good point. She'd left him, and he was moving on with his life. Hell, he probably didn't even know that she'd called.

She'd gotten ahold of Kyle an hour ago, asking if he could take Eli to the beach. She didn't want to leave the house in case someone called her back. Despite thundershowers in the forecast, it was sunny right now, in the high eighties, and Eli was going crazy. This was the first time he'd actually found something fun to do in Seattle, and this Earl he'd met yesterday was his very first friend here. Just because she was scared and miserable, it didn't mean her son had to suffer.

Kyle had shown up in an old oxford shirt and black swim trunks. She'd told him about everything that had gone on in the wee hours of the morning--from the Heimlich maneuver fax to the aborted call to Joe.

'Listen, why don't you just call the son of a bitch again?' Kyle now asked. 'You know you want to, or are you afraid of hearing that he has indeed moved on?'

Sydney glanced out at the glistening lake and said nothing.

'I don't know why you'd still want anything to do with him,' Kyle went on. 'The guy hit you. I know there are extenuating circumstances you won't talk about. But can you tell me this much? Was it something you did? Is that why he hit you? You didn't have an affair while you were on the road or anything like that, did you?'

Sydney rolled her eyes. 'Lord, no, Kyle. You know me better than that. I didn't do anything.'

'Then he's the one who did something wrong, and it must be pretty god-awful, because you won't talk about it. You spilt the beans about him belting you, but you won't talk about this other--thing he did. And yet, you still want to go back to him, so much that you even...' Kyle shook his head. 'I better shut my pie- hole. I don't want to piss you off.'

Crossing her arms, she stared at him, eyes narrowed. 'Go ahead and say what you were going to say.'

Kyle sighed. 'Okay. I think you've built up these Movers and Shakers deaths as some kind of threat so you have an excuse to go back to Joe. Don't get me wrong. These deaths are tragic and disturbing. But you didn't find a first duet among your Movers and Shakers people, did you? And to imagine someone is leaving you little signs and souvenirs is just a bit much. Tea and rice, some dead bird, and now this weird fax--and it's all supposed to mean something? I'll tell you what it means. It means someone sent you a fax, probably while drunk, and forgot to write their name on the cover sheet. It means Tweety flew into your bedroom and croaked on your pillow Saturday afternoon. It means some critter got into the kitchen on the Fourth of July. Or shit, maybe it's because this place is haunted. Weirder stuff has happened inside haunted houses. I told you not to rent here, but you wouldn't listen to me. You're acting crazy, Syd. And you're even contradicting yourself.'

'What do you mean?' she asked.

'You don't believe it's safe for Eli to go to the beach by himself--a block and a half away--because some guy is after you. But apparently the same guy was also in New York sending you a fax at six-thirty this morning. You've got your stalker in two places at practically the same time, working both coasts. Or do you think there are two guys after you?'

Sydney frowned at him. 'He sent the fax at six-thirty, New York time. He could be here by now. It's quite possible.'

'Good God, Syd, listen to yourself.' He slumped against the porch railing. 'If right now you were back in Chicago with Joe, and all this weird stuff was happening, would you be giving it this much thought? Tell me the truth.'

'Probably not,' she admitted. 'But what about the flowers in my name sent to the next of kin?'

'That's bizarre, I grant you. But it's not exactly grounds for pushing the panic button or calling in the FBI.' Kyle shrugged. 'But I'm guessing--as far as you're concerned--it's grounds for calling Joe.'

Sydney sank down in the patio chair and rubbed the bridge of her nose. 'You're probably right, damn you.'

Kyle patted her shoulder. 'I'll take Eli to the beach. Why don't you catch a few winks? And if you can't sleep, call Joe and get it over with. The sooner you figure out he's moved on, the sooner you'll get on with your life, too.'

The telephone rang, and Sydney sprang from the chair and hurried into the kitchen. She grabbed the cordless and switched it on. 'Yes, hello?'

Silence.

'Hello?' Sydney repeated.

'Is...this...Sydney?' The frail voice was barely audible.

'Yes. Who's calling?'

'It's--it's Rikki, dear. Could you come over...please? I'm so, so sick. I'm afraid of dying alone--before Aidan gets here. I phoned him in San Francisco earlier this morning, when--when this last spell came over me. I told him