Final Breath

Shakers murderer wouldn't have slit their throats. He would have taken them into an empty classroom and shot them. And then their parents would have received flowers with a card from Sydney Jordan.

Kyle sipped his coffee again. 'Maybe I'm talking out of my ass. Anyway, I thought of those dead high school girls after we talked early this morning. And like I say, they never did find who killed them.' He glanced up as a red Honda Accord came down the street. 'There's Dan now....'

Sydney left her suitcase outside, then ran into the house to say good-bye to Eli. He put his video game on pause while she hugged him. Sydney told him she was sorry he couldn't go to Chicago with her. She also told him she'd be back tomorrow night, and she told him to be careful and mind his uncle.

Sydney had a horrible feeling about this trip.

But she didn't tell him that.

'Goddamn it!'

Dan Spengler shoved his palm onto the steering wheel and the car horn blared. 'We're in gridlock. I'm trying not to block the intersection, and this slime-bucket asshole takes a right on red!' He hit the accelerator, and the car sped forward. Sydney's hand automatically went to the dashboard as she braced herself for a potential collision.

'You lowlife weasel!' Dan screamed from his window, almost slamming into the side of the other car. He hit his horn again. 'Could you be more of a jerk?' He glanced at Sydney. 'What kind of justification does he have for pulling that kind of shit? 'I'm in a hurry?' or 'I'm just an asshole?' Wait--wait a minute. Did he just flip me the bird? I can't tell...'

The other driver had indeed given him the finger, but Sydney wasn't about to say anything. She didn't want to make Dan even angrier--if that were possible. He was a handsome man with chiseled features, blue eyes, and short, slightly receding black hair. He was also very scary--at least when he was mad. His face had turned red, and his knuckles were white as he clutched the steering wheel.

'Um, I didn't see him gesturing,' Sydney lied, finally letting go of the dashboard and sitting back in the passenger seat.

'I can't get over how some people delude themselves into thinking they're nice, and then they get into traffic and act like total creeps. It just amazes me.' Dan took a few deep breaths, and he laughed a little. 'Well, great first impression I'm making on you, huh? I'm usually a very pleasant person, honest. But whenever I get on the road, nine times out of ten, there's some jerk driver who makes me lose it. Sorry, Sydney. I didn't scare you, did I?'

'Oh, just a little--for a minute there,' she said nervously. Without a doubt, the other driver had been in the wrong, but the way Dan had reacted was unnerving. She wondered if Kyle knew about this guy's angry side.

Her cell phone went off. Sydney grabbed it out of her purse and checked the caller ID: Detective Peary's number in New York. 'Do you mind if I take this?' she asked.

'Go for it,' Dan said, eyes on the road.

Sydney clicked on the phone. 'Hello? Detective Peary?'

'Yes. I got your messages, Ms. Jordan.'

'Thank you for calling back. Did you check with the Kinko's on Seventh Avenue?'

'Yes, I followed that up. They let me see the credit card receipt for that fax you were telling me about.'

'And?' Sydney said, hanging on his every word.

'Troy Bischoff is the name on the Visa card.'

'Shit,' Sydney murmured, closing her eyes. What made her think the killer wouldn't cover his tracks?

'I'm closing the book on this one, Ms. Jordan. This guy accidentally killed himself.'

'Did you check to see if that Visa card is missing?' Sydney asked. 'The killer could have stolen the card.'

'Bischoff had a wallet full of credit cards and money in his bedroom, and lots of valuables in his apartment. Why would someone take one card and leave all the rest behind? Anyway, someone at Kinko's found his card yesterday afternoon. Looks like Bischoff forgot it there after he sent you that fax.'

'Or maybe the killer left it there,' Sydney offered. 'Did you consider that as a possibility? Detective, this guy wouldn't have taken Troy's money, because he didn't want anyone to know he was there. He wanted it to look like Troy died alone during this kinky self-strangulation thing.'

'Well, if this so-called-killer didn't want anyone to know he was there, why did he send you this fax-clue or whatever it was?' Peary didn't wait for her to answer. 'Listen, Ms. Jordan, it's a clear case of death by autoerotic asphyxiation. That's the end of it. That sort of thing happens a lot more than you'd think. These perverts are always doing stuff like this to themselves. They're sick. And then they wonder why some folks can't stand them.'

'What?' Sydney said sharply. 'Did I just hear you right? You know, I'm a correspondent for a network TV news program--'

'I know who you are, Ms. Jordan,' he replied.

'Would you like to repeat what you just said to me for the record?'

'Listen,' the detective said. 'I'm doing you and your program a huge favor by not dragging this out. I saw the bit you did on this guy a few months back when you made him out to be a big hero. Are you really so eager for your adoring public to know how this deviant died?'

Sydney didn't reply. She pulled the cell phone away from her face and glared at it. 'Asshole!' she screamed. Then she clicked off the line. It was all she could do to keep from smashing the phone against the dashboard. 'Son of a bitch,' she growled, shaking her head.

She sat there silently fuming for another few moments. Then she glanced over at Dan, and he gave her a wary look. 'Well, I guess we're even now, huh? I mean, which one of us is crazier?'

She cracked a tiny smile.

'I don't even want to ask what that conversation was about,' he said, chuckling.

Sydney managed a weak laugh. 'Tell you later when I get to know you better.'

Up ahead, she saw the sign for the turn-off to SeaTac Airport. Then she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw his medium-size suitcase on the backseat. He'd put her bag in the trunk. His suitcase was dark blue and had several zippers and compartments. And on the leather handle were two destination tags from his last round trip. In the mirror, she could read the SEA on one tag for his return trip to SeaTac. But she couldn't quite make out the airport abbreviation on the other stub.

Sydney casually glanced over her shoulder. Now she saw the old torn tag from his previous trip: JFK.

Turning forward, she glimpsed the airport exit as they passed it.

Sydney clutched the cell phone tighter. 'Wasn't that the turn-off for the airport back there?' she asked as casually as she could.

He kept his eyes on the road. 'My way's faster,' he said with a tiny smile.

The seat belt was pinching her, and Sydney nervously tugged at it. She glanced at Dan again--his handsome profile and that little smile. Kyle had just met this man yesterday afternoon. Had Dan Spengler been in New York City the night before? It was awfully strange how he'd just shown up in her brother's life at this particular time.

'Was that phone call about one of your stories for On the Edge?' he asked.

'Sort of,' she said. 'A person from one of those stories was killed.' Sydney watched for his reaction. He didn't seem very surprised.

''A kinky self-strangulation thing?'' he asked, quoting from her talk to Detective Peary.

'Yes,' Sydney said. She watched him pass another exit off Interstate 5.

'You can tell me to mind my own business if you want,' he said.

'It's okay.'

'Was he a good friend?'

'Actually, I didn't know him very well,' Sydney admitted, squirming in the passenger seat. She looked out her window. At this point, they would have to backtrack to get to the airport.

'What's the name for that--the self-strangulation thing?'

'Autoerotic asphyxiation.'

'Yeah,' he nodded and then switched on his turn signal. 'You know, for the longest time, I thought it had to do with phone sex--audio-erotic affixation. Shows you how stupid I am.'