Final Breath

swallow the gag. There wasn't any air coming into his lungs at all.

Suddenly, he heard a deafening crash. The pillow slipped away in time for Eli to see the patio chair toppling inside the room amid an explosion of glass.

Demick got to his feet, swiveled around, and grabbed his gun from the edge of the desk. To Eli's utter horror, he turned toward him and fired. A shot rang out.

Panic-stricken, Eli tried to roll to one side, but it was too late. He felt a sharp pain searing through his arm.

The dark-skinned man, his dad's buddy--Eli now realized that was true--picked up the patio chair again.

Demick spun around and shot the man. But the bullet didn't slow him down. The dark-haired stranger smashed the chair over his head.

Loretta and Earl's killer fell onto the floor, just missing Eli.

Gasping for air, Eli watched his dad's friend clutching at his side as he reached for the phone. Blood seeped between his fingers. 'Operator, I need an ambulance right away,' he said, catching his breath. He worked up a smile for Eli and nodded to him.

'You'll be okay, kid. Hang in there...'

'Hey, Chloe, I saw you on the news tonight.'

Chuck, her neighbor from downstairs, was coming up from the basement with a load of laundry. Chloe had just stepped into the lobby of her apartment building. It was a three-story, old-world charmer with thirty units. Most of the neighbors knew each other.

And now most of her neighbors--along with the rest of the nation--knew that she'd been on a beach contemplating suicide night before last. Everyone also knew about her unwitting participation in a fraternity dogfight. For the interview, she hadn't said anything about having had sex with Riley, but she'd admitted that she'd been interested in the son of a bitch. Compared to Derrick De Santo's pregnant girlfriend and his rich, airhead wife, Chloe came out as the one least-duped. The way Sydney Jordan had put the segment together, Chloe felt she'd emerged as a hero, and the It's a Wonderful Life spin on her story gave her a newfound optimism.

Still, Chloe knew there would be some backlash--mainly people treating her like a mental outpatient. But she'd gotten past the worst of it. She'd warned her mother yesterday about what she'd revealed in the interview. Her mom had called about a half-hour ago, right after the broadcast. 'I guess it wasn't so bad,' she'd finally concluded. 'But you'll start seeing a therapist soon, won't you, honey?'

Chloe had watched the news in a bar, and had been both happy and oddly disappointed that nobody in the place recognized her as the woman up on the TV. She'd had a Cosmopolitan by herself and toasted herself.

It sure beat being dead.

She worked up a smile for Chuck, a sweet, slightly nerdy guy with glasses and receding brown hair. For a while, Chloe had entertained the notion he might like her, but there was no spark.

'So--did I come across as a pathetic loser or a major psycho?' she asked, leaning against the mailboxes.

'None of the above,' Chuck replied. 'I really like the way you were so honest. And c'mon, you're a hero. I think you did great.'

'Well, thank you,' she grinned. She got her mail out of the mailbox--mostly bills. 'I hope you'll tell everyone else in the building the same thing when they're talking about that nutcase, Chloe, in 307.'

She started up the stairs.

Lugging his laundry basket, Chuck followed her. 'I think they're just happy all those reporters stopped hanging around outside the building this morning,' he said. 'Then again, maybe they all haven't gone. I saw some guy lingering around earlier tonight. Hey, by the way, I Tivo'd the broadcast. Want me to save it for you?'

Chloe paused on the second-floor landing. 'Well, thanks, Chuck,' she smiled. 'But Sydney Jordan gave me my own DVD copy.'

'I'm saving it anyway,' he said. Then he started down the hallway. 'Take care, Chloe!'

'You, too!' she called to him. Then she continued up to the third floor.

Stepping into her apartment, she flicked the hallway light switch. But nothing happened. In the darkness, Chloe hesitated before moving into the living room and switching on the lamp. She saw her computer monitor's fish-tank screen saver was on. She almost always turned off the monitor before stepping out. Something wasn't right.

Chloe wondered about that man Chuck had seen lingering outside the building. And she remembered Sydney's warning about stalkers.

Warily, she checked the kitchen and tried the back door. It wasn't locked. She'd locked up before leaving earlier--she was almost certain. Yet it didn't look as if the lock had been tampered with. Chloe opened the door and glanced out at the back stairs: no one. Leaving the door open a crack, she went to investigate the rest of the apartment. She peeked into the hall closet, then headed toward her darkened bedroom.

She stopped dead. Chloe thought she saw something move in there. Maybe it was just her own approaching shadow. She hesitated for a moment, and thought about running downstairs and getting Chuck.

All at once, a figure emerged from the darkness in her bedroom. Chloe saw the outline of a man.

She started to scream.

The man lunged at her, pinned her against the wall, and covered her mouth with his gloved hand. 'Don't let out another sound or I'll fucking kill you,' he growled.

Trembling, Chloe eyed the gun in his other hand.

He pressed his face against hers. He was wearing a ski mask, but she still felt his warm breath swirling in her ear.

'Strip for me,' he whispered.

Sydney's flight was delayed. She waited in the boarding area with her laptop plugged in. She was checking the various news coverage of this morning's sniper attack at the El station. Everyone was still calling it a gang- related incident.

She thought about the Bitch-Sydney envelope with the El pass inside it. The killer had broken his pattern this time. He'd given her his clue before going after his prey. She wondered why he'd done that.

They finally announced that boarding would soon begin.

Sydney was about to switch off her computer when she noticed a new e-mail from chloefinch@northwesternu.edu. The subject heading was 'Good-bye.'

She clicked on the e-mail, and the standard caution came up about not opening the e-mail if she didn't know the sender. Sydney figured she knew Chloe pretty well now, so she opened it. A cartoon figure popped up on the screen. It was a little girl looking like a Kewpie Doll. She sported a red bikini and stood knee-deep in wavy water. A cartoon sun was smiling down on her. Then the waves started to rise until only the Kewpie Doll's eyes and the top of her head were above the water. Sydney gazed at the e-mail subject again: Good- bye.

'Oh, my God,' she whispered. 'Chloe's next. He's going to drown her...'

'Please...please...just take whatever you want and leave me alone,' Chloe whispered.

Trembling, she stood naked in the empty tub. She tried to cover herself. He kept looking at her, up and down. And all she could see of him were his eyes through the two holes in his ski mask.

In his gloved hand, he held a gun to her head. 'Get down on your knees,' he growled.

Chloe obeyed him.

'Turn on the water,' he said, crouching down so they stayed at eye level. 'You're going to fill up the tub. Make it a comfortable temperature, Chloe. No need for it to be as cold as that lake water the other night.'

Kneeling in the tub, she stopped covering her breasts for a moment so she could turn on the water. She heard him chuckle behind the mask. He gently grazed one of her nipples with the tip of his gun.

'Cut that out, asshole!' she growled, tears in her eyes. She covered her breasts again.

She heard him snicker, 'Huh, feisty.' He stood up straight. Keeping the gun trained on her, the man backed away to the toilet, then lowered the lid and sat down. 'Do you know six hundred and ninety-one people drowned in bathtubs last year?' he asked. 'Of course, a lot of them were infants and toddlers. But adults drown in bathtubs,