Final Breath

Sydney had also phoned her brother again and told him all the latest developments. She'd asked him to double-lock everything before going to bed tonight and to keep close tabs on Eli.

'We'll be okay,' he'd replied. 'You look after yourself. I don't like the idea of you alone there in some hotel. Did the desk clerk look like Tony Perkins?'

'More like Toni Tennille,' she'd told him. 'It was a woman. I'll be fine. I'm staying in with the door triple- locked. Is Eli close by?'

'Yes, and he's got an interesting story for you. But I think we'll wait until tomorrow to tell it.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Here's Eli.'

Her son had gotten on the line. 'Hi, Mom...'

'Hi, honey. What's this interesting story?'

'It's about our ghost, but Uncle Kyle says you don't need to hear it now. Are you seeing Dad?'

Sydney had told him it was highly doubtful. But that had been over an hour ago, and now that she'd phoned Joe, she realized how much she wanted to see him again.

It was hard to focus on Chloe's segment, though Sydney had already taken three pages of notes on editing and scoring it. There was another single-serving chardonnay bottle in the honor bar. She made a deal with herself that she could open it as long as she watered down the wine with some ice.

The digital clock on her night table read 10:09. Sydney was wearing a red striped T-shirt, jeans, and sandals. She grabbed the ice bucket and her room key, then unlocked all the locks and stepped outside. A blast of warm summer air hit her. From the railed walkway, she glanced down at the gas station and the parking lot--not much activity. She noticed some fireflies in the bushes bordering the lot. Sydney turned and made sure her door was locked before she moved on.

About ten doors up ahead was a lighted sign for the stairway. She figured the ice machine--or at least a sign for it--had to be in the general vicinity. She strode past several windows to the other rooms off the walkway; all of the curtains were closed--except one. Right before the door to the stairs, a man sat alone at a desk by his window. He was about thirty, thin, and extremely pale with short black hair. He wore a dirty white T-shirt. It looked like he was repairing a small radio or something. He had a screwdriver in his hand. As Sydney passed his window, he just glared at her. Trying not to stare back, she kept walking. But out of the corner of her eye, Sydney saw him quickly stand up.

Opening the stairwell door, she balked as the inside overhead light sputtered. She listened for footsteps or the sound of a door opening behind her, but she could only hear traffic noise. That odd-looking man must have stayed in his room.

To Sydney's right were the stairs. She noticed an ICE & VENDING MACHINES placard on the wall had an arrow indicating they were straight ahead. Ice bucket in hand, Sydney started down the corridor. Recessed lights illuminated an isolated portion of the empty, dark hallway. Perhaps this was supposed to create a serene effect, but Sydney just found it creepy.

She came to an intersecting corridor, where another placard showed the ice and vending machines were to her left. As Sydney turned the corner, she heard a click. It sounded like a door opening. She paused and looked over her shoulder, but the corridor was vacant. To her left, she passed a door marked STAFF ONLY that was open a crack. The room beyond it was shrouded in darkness.

At last, she spotted a small annex where they kept the ice machine and two vending machines for soft drinks and snacks. Sydney filled up the bucket. The clanking noise seemed loud in the quiet hallway.

As she headed back down the hall, she saw the STAFF ONLY door. It was wide open now. Sydney felt the hair bristle on the back of her neck. She crept past the room--giving it a wide berth. It was just a small closet with rolls of toilet paper and cleansers on the shelves. Clutching the ice bucket to her stomach, she continued down the corridor. As she turned the corner, Sydney glanced over her shoulder. She saw a dark figure dart across the hall into a shadowy doorway. He'd moved so fast, she couldn't see what he'd looked like, but it was a man about six feet tall.

Sydney turned and started running. Ice cubes spilled out of the bucket as she raced down the hall. At the door to the outside walkway, she hesitated and looked back again: no one. Catching her breath, she waited a moment to make sure she was alone. The light above her flickered again.

She stepped out to the walkway. Her hand was shaking as she reached for her keys. She passed that window again, where that strange man had been glaring at her, but his drapes were shut now. Sydney hurried to her door. She was still trying to get her breath as she staggered into the room. Then she quickly triple-locked the door.

'All for a lousy watered-down glass of chardonnay,' she muttered, setting down the ice bucket and the room key.

The hotel room telephone rang, startling her.

Sydney immediately thought of Joe. She snatched up the receiver during the second ring. 'Yes, hello?'

Silence.

'Hello?' she repeated.

Then there was a click, and the connection went dead.

He stood under the sputtering light by the walkway door, a cell phone in his hand. With his other hand, he ran an ice cube over his forehead. It had dropped out of Sydney's ice bucket as she'd scurried down the shadowy corridor minutes before. It was funny to watch her run with that slight limp of hers. He was still grinning as he thought of it.

Now she knew about him, but no more than he wanted her to know. He controlled the flow of information. She knew his pattern by now. So many of her heroes were dying, but she probably didn't understand why yet.

Molly and Erin had been the work of an amateur. But he'd honed his killing skills since then. He'd become an expert at planning everything in advance and anticipating Sydney's next move.

At one time, Sydney might have felt close to the Movers & Shakers heroes he'd killed. She'd certainly gotten to know them while filming their segments for that TV show. But she might not have even known they'd died if he hadn't left her little clues. And if he wasn't sending flowers in her name to the deceased's next of kin, would she have sent them herself?

She might have felt bad about those people dying. But she hadn't felt really devastated yet.

That would soon change--when the next one died.

'Hi, this Sydney Jordan in room 2129,' she said to the hotel operator. She was sitting on the edge of the bed--with its salmon-jade-taupe bedspread. 'I've just had two hang-ups in a row. I was wondering if those calls came from outside or from the lobby.'

'One minute, please, Ms. Jordan.'

Sydney sipped her chardonnay on the rocks. Even if that man skulking around the hallway earlier hadn't been after her, she still didn't feel safe. And the second hang-up had just about put her over the edge.

'Ms. Jordan?' the operator came back on the line. 'Those calls were coming from outside.'

'Well, I'm--I'm thinking of changing rooms if I get another hang-up like that. It's kind of disturbing.'

'If you'd like, I can forward all your incoming calls to voice mail, Ms. Jordan.'

She thought of Joe. 'Um, no, thank you. Don't do that yet. I'll let you know if I get another one. Thank you.'

Just as she hung up with the hotel operator, her cell phone rang. Getting to her feet, Sydney snatched it up from the desk and checked the caller ID. She recognized Joe's cell number. She clicked it on. 'Joe?' she said.

'Yeah, hi.'

'Did you just try to call me on the hotel phone?'

'No. Why? What's going on?'

She stepped back, then sank down on the edge of the bed. 'I think I'm going a little crazy here,' she admitted, her voice cracking.

'What's your room number?' he asked. 'I'm here in the lobby.'

She heard him knocking on the door.

Sydney had quickly changed into a black sleeveless top, brushed her hair, and applied some lipstick and mascara. The whole time she wondered why she was making such an effort for someone who had seen her first thing in the morning for the last fourteen years. This was the same man who had gotten involved--however