Final Breath

Chloe pulled some lipstick from her purse. 'I just knew you'd be nice,' she murmured.

'Do you think it would be too trite if I worked in a clip from It's a Wonderful Life?' Sydney asked. 'I'm thinking of that scene when James Stewart is about to commit suicide by jumping off the bridge, but he ends up saving Clarence instead.'

It was 8:20, and they'd just finished taping with Chloe. Sydney had hugged her good-bye, and they'd talked about getting together the next day so Chloe could see the edited piece before it was aired as a feature story on the network's nightly news.

Sydney sat in the backseat of the SUV with her soundman, Matt, who had on his earphones and listened to what they'd just recorded. Up front were her cameramen, Brendan and Jamie. Brendan was driving. She'd worked with these guys on most of her Chicago-based Movers & Shakers stories for several years. It felt good to be on an assignment with them again. She always used to bounce ideas off them.

'Yeah, I like that Wonderful Life angle, but keep it brief,' Brendan warned. 'You've got a lot of stuff here.'

'You don't think it might trivialize what Chloe was going through?' Sydney asked. She really liked Chloe Finch, and wanted her to be happy with this segment--almost as much as she wanted the network to be happy with it.

'The viewers will eat it up,' Jamie said from the passenger seat in front. 'Hey, you know, the Cook County Recovery Shelter is just a few blocks from here. Want to pay a visit to Ned? He'll be pissed if he finds out you were in town and didn't see him, Syd.'

She'd done the Movers & Shakers segment on Ned Haggerty over two years ago, and he'd kept in touch with her ever since. Homeless and alcoholic, he'd been living in and out of traveling boxcars for a few years, when he saved the life of a Burlington Northern yardman, who had tripped and fallen on the rails. The unconscious man would have been run over by a train if not for Ned. The Movers & Shakers piece had made Ned a local celebrity. He went into rehab, then ended up living and working at the Cook County Recovery Shelter, a dormitory for homeless men just out of rehab.

'I really don't think I have time to drop in on old Ned,' Sydney said. She still had to check into her hotel and figure out how to edit Chloe's piece down to four and a half minutes. 'I'll drop him a postcard when I get back to Seattle.'

Matt took off his earphones. 'Were you guys just talking about Ned Haggerty? It's a real shame what happened, isn't it?'

Sydney stared at him. 'What do you mean?'

'Yeah, what are you talking about?' Jamie chimed in.

'You guys didn't know?' Matt asked. He turned to her. 'Jesus, I'm sorry. Somebody should have told you, Syd. Ned was killed last week. He went on a bender and passed out in a railroad yard--right on the tracks. A train ran over him.'

Overhead, a swirling fan stirred up the stuffy air in the tiled lobby of the Cook County Recovery Shelter. Matt and Brendan had stayed outside in the SUV, but Jamie sat waiting for her on one of the lobby's two avocado-green Naugahyde-covered sofas. There was a big bulletin board on the wall; it was full of job listings and fliers. Seated behind the Formica-top counter was Gary, a balding man in his midforties with a gray mustache and a short-sleeve checked shirt. Sydney had met him once before when Ned had proudly given her a tour of the facility.

'As you can see,' Gary said. 'We got your flowers. Somebody saved one.'

At the far end of the counter, someone had set up a little tribute to Ned Haggerty. It was a framed photo of Ned, who had gray hair and a wizened face. In the picture, he was grinning as if someone had just told a joke. Sydney's heart broke as she gazed at it. A pressed dried flower had been placed at one side of the photograph under the glass. Tucked in the frame was a card saying With Sympathy in silver preprinted script, and then a note typed by a computer printer: We'll all miss you, Ned--Sydney Jordan.

Matt had said that Ned had been killed last Monday night. About twenty-four hours later, in another part of town, Angela Gannon had fallen to her death. At first, Sydney had wondered why she hadn't received a cryptic little souvenir of Ned's demise, but then she remembered the Monopoly train token that had been left on Eli's desk. Eli had found it just minutes before she'd discovered the dead robin on her pillow.

'Do they know any more about how it happened?' she asked Gary.

Leaning on the counter, he shook his head. 'Nope. Ned was last seen in this crummy bar near the railroad yard. He was getting drunk with this younger guy who looked homeless. They left the bar together around one in the morning. At four-thirty, one of the Burlington Northern switchmen heard a scream, and found Ned on the tracks. A freight train had run over him, cut him in half.'

Sydney winced. 'Did they ever find the younger, homeless man?' she asked.

'Nope,' Gary said, frowning. 'And I tell ya, I'd like to hunt down the son of a bitch myself. Ned hadn't touched a drop in over two years--until this fella came along.'

Sydney glanced at the photo of Ned. She fingered the sympathy card stuck between the glass and the edge of the frame. She pulled it out and saw the imprint on the bottom of the card:

Uptown Flowers--12291 Uptown--Chicago

773-555-9254

CHAPTER TWENTY

'Hi, you've reached the McClouds...' Sydney listened to her own greeting, which Joe obviously hadn't changed yet. She couldn't help taking that as a good sign. Despite the woman answering their phone at six yesterday morning, perhaps he wasn't really ready to move on. Sydney kept asking herself, Why should you care? But she did.

She waited for the recording to finish up, and then the beep sounded. 'Hi, Joe, it's me,' she said nervously. 'I'm in town here at the Red Lion Airporter Inn. I'm just in for the night. I know you don't want to see me. But there's something going on here that's pretty scary. I need your help, Joe. Could you call me back here?' She gave him the hotel's phone number and reminded him of her cell number in case he'd forgotten. 'It doesn't matter how late you call back. Please, just give me a shout, okay? I--' Sydney hesitated. She was about to say I love you. It came so naturally to her. It was how she'd always said good-bye to him on the phone when calling from a lonely hotel room on the road.

'I'd really appreciate it, Joe,' she said instead, and then she hung up.

Usually the network sprung for nicer hotels, but this was all they could get at the last minute. It was a rambling, three-story structure with several wings. Sydney had a second-floor room with outside access so people were walking back and forth outside her window every few minutes. Forsaking her view of the parking lot and a Shell station, Sydney had closed the sheer drapes for a little privacy, but she still saw images and shadows passing outside that window from time to time. The room was decorated in jade, taupe, and salmon. Thank God it had an honor bar. She'd already drunk a single-serving bottle of chardonnay to the tune of nine dollars. She'd barely touched her room-service French dip, and the tray was still over by the TV.

Her first call hadn't been to Joe. Uptown Flowers had closed for the night, and she'd gotten a recorded message about their hours of business. She'd also checked her e-mail, and there was a note from Angela's sister:

Dear Sydney,

Sorry it s taken me a while to get back to you. The flowers you ordered came from Botanicals at the Glenn in Glenview. Their phone number is 847-555-5249. I hope that s some help!

Your flowers and the thoughtful notes were greatly appreciated, Sydney. We re just taking it one day at a time here. Thank you again.

Sincerely,

Elizabeth Gannon Grogen

She'd tried calling Botanicals at the Glen, but they were closed.