Final Breath

name.'

'I will,' she said, scribbling the word donation beside Troy's parents' names. 'But if the flowers should arrive anyway, could you get the florist's name, please? Call me, and reverse the charges.'

'Um, okay,' she said, obviously a bit puzzled by the request.

'Thank you, Meredith. I know it doesn't make sense, but it might later.'

After Sydney hung up with Meredith, she clicked on the DVD and watched the Movers & Shakers segment with Leah and Jared. Her friend Judy had left her the message on the Fourth of July, the night they'd been shot in their apartment. She remembered Judy telling her that the murder scene had looked like a 'burglary gone from bad to worse,' and one of Leah and Jared's neighbors had found both bodies in the bathroom.

Sydney watched the two of them together in the video short, and her heart broke. They were both so young and cute, such a sweet couple. She thought of Angela, and now, Troy. All of them heroes, and all of them had met such violent, senseless deaths.

But to someone, it made sense.

Sydney watched a visibly shaken Leah in close-up as she talked about the thugs in the Thai restaurant. Leah was crying: 'When I heard they planned to--to take us all into the bathroom and shoot us, I was just so scared....'

Sydney's finger clicked on the mouse, hitting Pause. She leaned in closer to her computer screen, and played it back again. 'Take us all into the bathroom and shoot us...'

'Oh, God,' Sydney whispered, hitting the Pause icon again.

On the computer screen, Leah's face was frozen. Tears were locked in her eyes and her mouth was open. Leah didn't know it at the time, of course. But she was describing exactly how--six months later--she and her fiance would be killed.

'You've reached the desk of Detective Lyle A. Peary, NYPD,' said the man on the recording. Then an automated voice chimed in: 'To page this person, press one now, or leave a message after the beep. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial 9-1-1.'

Sydney paged him, and left her phone number. Then she called the number again and waited for the beep.

'Hello, this is Sydney Jordan,' she said into the recording. She gave him her phone number again. 'I've just paged you as well, Detective. I have some important information about the death of Troy Bischoff. I'm a correspondent with On the Edge, and I did a story about Troy a few months ago. Someone sent me a fax at 6:32 this morning from Kinko's...' She gave him the Seventh Avenue address. 'I believe this fax was sent to me by the person who killed Troy. I don't think it was a self-strangulation. I can explain everything to you. Just check with that Kinko's. The manager's name is Paul. This person used a credit card to send this fax, and it's on file there. I'm sorry about the late hour, but I--'

There was a beep. Then the automated voice chimed in again, saying if she was satisfied with her message to press one.

Sydney wasn't satisfied, not yet at least. But she pressed one anyway.

She figured she wouldn't hear back from Detective Peary until tomorrow morning. It was too late--past eleven-thirty in Arkansas--to phone Troy's parents. She'd have to try them first thing in the morning--before the florist delivered the With Sympathy floral arrangement from Sydney Jordan.

She realized what was happening. The fog of uncertainty had lifted, and it was so terribly clear. Someone was killing the heroes from her Movers & Shakers stories. And in a twisted kind of 'What goes around comes around' logic, he'd taken the fate from which they'd saved someone and used it to design their murders. He'd furnished her with tokens symbolizing each murdered hero--a broken teapot and some spilled rice, a dead bird, and a diagram on how to save someone from choking. And if she didn't catch on to his cryptic calling cards, there was always a thank-you note from the victim's next of kin for the sympathy bouquets sent in her name. It was as if he wanted her to feel included in each murder.

But who was doing this, and why? This person was making some kind of statement. He obviously had a grudge against her. Maybe it was someone who didn't like one of her Movers & Shakers segments about a hero.

Hunched forward in her desk chair, Sydney held a hand over her mouth. She wondered if her stalker was somehow connected to the Movers & Shakers killer. Eli had seen him at the beach yesterday and today. So when did this man have time to fly to New York City and kill Troy? Perhaps he was working with the killer, spying on her and Eli, breaking and entering to leave her the occasional cryptic clue.

Sydney was grateful to have Aidan spending the night. She'd left the poor guy parked in front of the TV with Eli for the last forty-five minutes. Getting to her feet, she started toward the living room. She could hear people on TV talking about The Bourne Ultimatum, which meant the movie was over, and Eli had moved onto the Special Features.

'You're going to go blind,' she said, finding Eli on the floor directly in front of the TV.

He just nodded and kept staring at the screen.

Dead asleep, Aidan was slumped in the corner of the sofa with his head tipped back. He made a faint snoring sound.

'Aidan?' she said. 'Aidan, did you want to wash up or anything?'

He didn't move.

'I tried to wake him up earlier,' Eli explained. 'He didn't budge. He's history. Great bodyguard he's gonna be tonight.'

Sydney turned to him. 'You have a choice. If you want to share your room, I'll get him upstairs now, and you can stay down here as long as you want. Otherwise, you need to skedaddle so I can make up the couch for him.'

Pausing the movie, Eli gave her an apprehensive look. 'Would you be ticked if said I don't feel like sharing my room?'

She shook her head, and then sat down on the floor beside him. 'No, honey, you hardly know him,' she whispered. 'And I really don't think it's going to make any difference to Aidan where he sleeps tonight. But I am ticked at you. I can't believe you didn't tell me about that man following you around at the beach yesterday--and today. Why didn't you speak up earlier?'

Eli shrugged uneasily. 'I--I didn't want to worry you.'

She gave him a wary sidelong glance. 'I don't think I'm getting the whole story here, Eli. Something's going on with you that you're not telling me. What is it?'

He let out a nervous laugh. 'Nothing, Mom. Nothing's going on.'

She stroked his arm. 'Sweetheart, this guy following you around could be very dangerous. There have been some strange, disturbing incidents with people I've worked with on my videos. I'm not sure what it's about yet, but I'll tell you once I know more. Anyway, Eli, until further notice, we need to be cautious and on our guard.'

He stared at her and blinked. 'What kind of incidents?'

'Some very serious stuff,' she replied. 'Like I said, I'll tell you when I know more. But the important thing is, you need to be honest with me. If someone is following you around, or someone is secretly communicating with you, you need to let me know.'

Sydney studied him. 'Is someone communicating with you, honey?'

He shrugged again. 'Just our ghost, nobody else.'

Sydney worked up a smile. 'Okey-doke,' she said, kissing his forehead.

Then she got to her feet and headed upstairs to get some bedding for their overnight guest.

She managed to wake him up and steer him into the downstairs powder room. While Aidan washed his face, Sydney made up the couch with sheets and a pillow. Eli had already retreated to his room.

Aidan was so tired he just nodded groggily and said, 'Thanks, Sydney,' when she told him that he could help himself to anything in the kitchen and sleep as late as he wanted. Aidan stripped down to his undershorts while she was still explaining that she'd be in her office for a while longer.

'And if the light bothers you, I'll...' Sydney didn't quite finish. He had a beautiful, athletic physique, and he seemed so unself-conscious about it. She watched him lie down on the sofa and pull the sheets around him.