a word since he asked for you. Ambulance is on its way."
Cotten glared down at the man sprawled on the floor. "What's the matter with him? Jesus, he looks so—"
"Stone." The raspy voice was barely heard over the commotion in the lobby.
Cotten started to kneel, but Ted tugged on her arm. "Don't get too close. We have no idea what's wrong with him."
An SNN cameraman suddenly appeared. "Okay?" he asked Ted.
Ted gave his consent with a nod. "I'm going to get this on tape," he told Cotten.
The cameraman moved closer, flipped on the camera-mounted floodlight, and focused.
The man muttered a few words, followed by a flow of frothy blood foaming from his mouth.
"I didn't understand you," Cotten said, ignoring Ted and going to her knees.
The fast-approaching sound of sirens heralded the arrival of NYC Fire and Rescue.
The man tried to speak, with no success. Cotten lifted his head. He coughed, and crimson-lined bubbles swelled and burst out his nostrils. A thin thread of glistening red mucous dangled from his bottom lip.
She heard the sirens build to a crescendo before suddenly going quiet on the street outside. "What did you say?" she asked him.
"Step aside! Move back!" shouted security from the direction of the lobby doors as the paramedics rushed toward her.
Cotten bent close to the man's face. His glazed-over eyes finally found their target and latched on to hers. "Tell me," Cotten said.
"Black Needles," he barely mumbled before closing his eyes.
8
DOA
After the excitement settled down, employees began filing out of the SNN
lobby to return to work. Through the glass doors, Cotten and Ted watched the medics load the sick man into the ambulance.
"What did he say to you?" Ted asked.
Cotten threaded her tea-colored hair behind one ear and shrugged. "He was delirious. Mumbled something about dirty needles, I think. Probably a junkie."
"We need to reevaluate our building's security procedures," Ted said, looking over his shoulder at maintenance cleaning up the area where the man had collapsed. He and Cotten walked across the marble floor inlaid with the gold satellite dish and SNN world globe logo. Entering the elevators, Ted pushed the eighth-floor button. "How's John?"
"He's great. In town for meetings with some people from the FBI and the State Department." She watched the digital floor indicator click off the levels as the elevator climbed to the eighth floor where the network had its news department, video edit suites, and archives.
Cotten shifted her gaze to Ted's reflection in the polished bronze walls of the elevator, thinking how much she appreciated and respected him. The gray around his temples was becoming more pronounced, and she knew a great deal of it was her doing. He was a handsome black man, with a face etched with strength and eyes filled with a sparkle that always inspired her and the rest of his staff. He was a constant source of unequivocal support—in the best and worst times of her career. And she'd had her share of major screwups. But when she did, Ted was there to remind her that it was okay to make mistakes, just not to make them again. His recent second heart attack forced him to slow down his work schedule and Cotten worried about him, but Ted didn't like anyone fussing over him. Even with the health issues, he still made a strong, commanding figure as news director.
"It's hard for you, isn't it?" he said to her reflection in the bronze.
"What?"
"John coming in and out of your life."
"It's that obvious?" Cotten looked away.
"Want my typical fatherly advice?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Enjoy the time you have together. After my close calls with the Grim Reaper, I've learned to live in the moment, not in the next one. Everything else is a waste of time."
The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.
Ted put his arm around Cotten's shoulders and gave a comforting hug.
9
"Live in the moment," he said, then let her exit first. "We've had enough
Cotten glared down at the man sprawled on the floor. "What's the matter with him? Jesus, he looks so—"
"Stone." The raspy voice was barely heard over the commotion in the lobby.
Cotten started to kneel, but Ted tugged on her arm. "Don't get too close. We have no idea what's wrong with him."
An SNN cameraman suddenly appeared. "Okay?" he asked Ted.
Ted gave his consent with a nod. "I'm going to get this on tape," he told Cotten.
The cameraman moved closer, flipped on the camera-mounted floodlight, and focused.
The man muttered a few words, followed by a flow of frothy blood foaming from his mouth.
"I didn't understand you," Cotten said, ignoring Ted and going to her knees.
The fast-approaching sound of sirens heralded the arrival of NYC Fire and Rescue.
The man tried to speak, with no success. Cotten lifted his head. He coughed, and crimson-lined bubbles swelled and burst out his nostrils. A thin thread of glistening red mucous dangled from his bottom lip.
She heard the sirens build to a crescendo before suddenly going quiet on the street outside. "What did you say?" she asked him.
"Step aside! Move back!" shouted security from the direction of the lobby doors as the paramedics rushed toward her.
Cotten bent close to the man's face. His glazed-over eyes finally found their target and latched on to hers. "Tell me," Cotten said.
"Black Needles," he barely mumbled before closing his eyes.
8
DOA
After the excitement settled down, employees began filing out of the SNN
lobby to return to work. Through the glass doors, Cotten and Ted watched the medics load the sick man into the ambulance.
"What did he say to you?" Ted asked.
Cotten threaded her tea-colored hair behind one ear and shrugged. "He was delirious. Mumbled something about dirty needles, I think. Probably a junkie."
"We need to reevaluate our building's security procedures," Ted said, looking over his shoulder at maintenance cleaning up the area where the man had collapsed. He and Cotten walked across the marble floor inlaid with the gold satellite dish and SNN world globe logo. Entering the elevators, Ted pushed the eighth-floor button. "How's John?"
"He's great. In town for meetings with some people from the FBI and the State Department." She watched the digital floor indicator click off the levels as the elevator climbed to the eighth floor where the network had its news department, video edit suites, and archives.
Cotten shifted her gaze to Ted's reflection in the polished bronze walls of the elevator, thinking how much she appreciated and respected him. The gray around his temples was becoming more pronounced, and she knew a great deal of it was her doing. He was a handsome black man, with a face etched with strength and eyes filled with a sparkle that always inspired her and the rest of his staff. He was a constant source of unequivocal support—in the best and worst times of her career. And she'd had her share of major screwups. But when she did, Ted was there to remind her that it was okay to make mistakes, just not to make them again. His recent second heart attack forced him to slow down his work schedule and Cotten worried about him, but Ted didn't like anyone fussing over him. Even with the health issues, he still made a strong, commanding figure as news director.
"It's hard for you, isn't it?" he said to her reflection in the bronze.
"What?"
"John coming in and out of your life."
"It's that obvious?" Cotten looked away.
"Want my typical fatherly advice?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Enjoy the time you have together. After my close calls with the Grim Reaper, I've learned to live in the moment, not in the next one. Everything else is a waste of time."
The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.
Ted put his arm around Cotten's shoulders and gave a comforting hug.
9
"Live in the moment," he said, then let her exit first. "We've had enough
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