Truth Series by Leah
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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
DISCLAIMER: The Pretender and all of its characters and places are the property of NBC Productions and MTM Entertainment. This an independent fan production written by a fan of this dramatic television series for the purposes of free entertainment only. It is the fifth story in the "Truth" Series. In answer to those Pretender fans who wrote and said, "Write more!" Thanks!:)
This idea had its first flicker of a beginning with these statements.
"In 1969...Catherine showed up and asked me to shelter a man and a woman who had had their two young sons abducted. I knew them as Charles and Margaret. They were afraid. They'd been searching for years and they were on the run...She (Margaret) gave birth to a little girl a month later." --Harriet Tashman, in the Pretender episode, "The Dragon House."
This is an expanded version of the original one I wrote.
SHADOWED TRUTH
by Leah
Written in 1998 and 2001
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She never knew how closely he had watched over her since breaking free of the Centre. Nor how much he tried to help her in any way he could. Sometimes in subtle ways, doing things for her that would go unnoticed. Sometimes in larger ways such as warning her that her father's life was in danger. But mostly in the notes, the gifts he left her and the things he did to help her find out the truth of what happened to her mother.
He stood silently at a distance, watching from behind the shrubbery, as Miss Parker read the note, "Her voice is inside you." And he was gratified to see that she clutched it to her heart, then quietly touched her mother's gravestone in parting, with the arm that wasn't in a sling. Then, she walked away, still clutching the note.
Yes, then she remembered. Remembered the conversation that they had had as children. He had wondered whether or not she would, but she had not forgotten. And he had helped her, if even in a small way. It had comforted her, it had made her feel better, if only for a moment. He watched Miss Parker get into the car with her father and then watched the car disappear from sight. He gazed wistfully after it. Then, Jarod sighed and pulled out a red notebook. He had a job to do.
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER...
THE CENTRE
BLUE COVE, DELAWARE
A woman with a deadly serious expression was seated at a desk in her office, staring at a computer screen. She sighed, rubbed her temples, closed the laptop computer and stood up. She rubbed her arm, which had healed, though it still felt somewhat stiff at times. She strolled around the desk, stretching her legs. Those tracking reports were getting her and her team nowhere. They needed something fresh....something totally new...something that didn't end in a splitting headache. She pulled the cellular phone out of her pocket and hit a button.
"Um...this is Broots here," the familiar, stumbling voice came over the phone. Miss Parker grinned to herself over the thought that she could scare Broots even without being in the same room with him. However, that was not her purpose today. She had something else in mind.
"Broots...do you remember," she chose her words carefully, for one never knew if even her own office been bugged. One never knew exactly who was listening. Not at the Centre. "The eggs? The ones that turned out to be rotten?" You better remember it, Broots, she thought.
"Um...rotten eggs?" Broots repeated in a clueless tone.
"Yes, bird brain!" Miss Parker hissed. Remember Broots, don't be an idiot. I don't have time today, she thought furiously. Once Miss Parker with the help of Broots had snuck into the Centre Database to do some unauthorized research. Sydney had shown up unexpectedly and with his assistance, three hidden files had been found. Three long lost files about Jarod. She had uploaded these "eggs" from their "nest" onto the network and sent the files to Broots.
"Oh," a note of realization dawned in his voice. "Yeah, Falcon, I...I understand."
Falcon. Her code name. Good Broots, good that you remember. Now, for her plan. "Get them ready. We may be able to make a meal out of them yet." Then, after a moment's pause, she added, "And get Sydney."
"Now?" asked Broots.
She didn't want to say anything more to him over the phone. "Ditto!" She snapped the phone shut, stuffed it into her pocket, ran her fingers through her hair and exited her office on a straight-arrow course to Sub-Level Five.
As she rode the elevator down, certain words echoed in her mind. Although, this time, it was not the normal nightmare she had everyday. Nor was it anything to do with her own brush with death when she had been fired upon by Brigitte in this very elevator, racing against time to save her father's life. It was something else. It rested hazily in the back of her mind for a moment and then broke into her conscious mind. She remembered Jarod's voice. And now you tell me something...about my family. And why not? Hadn't he told her about hers. About her mother. Oh, he hadn't told her everything. She had a gut feeling about that and knew Jarod's ways all too well. He was holding something back from her and it only increased her certainty that she wanted to know what it was. On the day they had made The Deal, she had challenged him openly:
"But how do you know I won't double cross you, Jarod?" she grinned, malevolently.
"Because I trust the good in you."
"It's too late, Jarod. You won't reform me with one of your speeches."
Jarod looked at her with a knowing smile. "Then, I trust you want to know the truth about your mother just as much as I do."
Miss Parker fidgeted with the glass of lemonade and stood up. "People who trust wind up the losers. I'm going back to the Centre and I'm going to get you what you want. And you better give me what I want or else..."
The hum of the elevator ceased and the doors hissed as they slid open. Miss Parker brought herself back to the present and stepped out onto Sub-Level Five, heading in the direction of the Tech room. Trust was a huge issue for her. You can't trust anyone, not at the Centre, she thought. Not completely.
She paused in the doorway and surveyed the scene. Broots was sitting at his computer, his back towards her, fidgeting nervously with a disk. Sydney had taken a seat at the table and seemed to be absorbed in whatever reading matter that he had selected for the day. They were awaiting her arrival. She marched into the room, with unspoken instructions at the tip of tongue. Dare she trust them? Dare she trust them anymore than she already had? Memories seemed to flash through her brain, as if in a silent response to her unspoken question. Recollections of SL-27, Kyle, Jacob....these names were associated with secrets they shared. Then, memories of Raines, Lyle, Brigitte...foes they had fought...together. And then of Jarod. That's where her analyzations of herself usually began and ended. Jarod. She never allowed her thoughts to drift beyond that.
"Is something wrong, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked, half-shutting his book, but keeping his thumb on the page to mark the spot.
Miss Parker realized she had been standing in the middle of the room for several moments without speaking. She shook her head. "I'm fine, Syd." With a purposeful air, she looked towards Broots.
Broots looked at her blankly for a moment and then seemed to rally himself and asked quickly, "Are you sure about this?"
Definitely, Miss Parker thought. "Don't make me repeat myself," she warned. "Do it!"
Broots popped the disk into the slot and proceeded to call one of the three files up on the computer. Hazy images were produced along with strange looking computer codes and dispersed through these were lines of incomplete text. He looked at Miss Parker for further instructions. "What is this?" Miss Parker snapped, pointing to a fuzzy image on the screen.
"A photo," answered Broots. "From what I can tell....it's of..." Broots hesitated.
Miss Parker glared at him impatiently. "Of?" Spit it out, Broots, she thought.
"Of Jarod's father."
"How do you know?"
"From reading the text...well what I can get of it anyways. It seems to be about Jarod's father. The rest of the text is so broken up and I can't get the meaning out of it."
Miss Parker gave a condescending nod. "Can you clear it up?"
Broots fiddled with the keyboard, then gulped, and replied, "It's too far gone to salvage...I told you the files were damaged, Miss Parker. It would take a miracle to really get any real information out of them."
Yes, Miss Parker nodded her head impatiently, she already knew the files had been damaged. But this was important. Where there was a will, there was a way.
"Well, you'll just have to become a miracle worker, Broots!" Miss Parker commanded.
Broots turned back, punched several more keys, and the fuzzy image disappeared altogether.
"What happened?" Miss Parker demanded.
"I....I lost it," Broots admitted nervously. "The file's become irretrievable."
There was no time for wrath. This was too important. Miss Parker was silent a moment and then she said, "Open the second file."
Broots nodded. He began typing rapidly, his fingers flying across the keyboard and slowly the images of the second file began to take shape. Miss Parker peered over Broots' shoulder studying the keyboard. "What is this?" the question buzzed in Broots' ear again.
Broots, now feeling wound as tight as a spring, replied, "I've deciphered it has to do with...Jarod's mother."
A file having to do with Jarod's father and now Jarod's mother. How logical! "Jarod would kill for this," Miss Parker grinned like the Cheshire Cat, lapping up the cream.
"I doubt that greatly, Miss Parker," Sydney replied. "Jarod wants to know about his parents, but to take another human life is quite against his moral standard for life."
"It's an expression, Syd," Miss Parker said, rolling her eyes and once again focusing her attention on Broots and the file.
A photo on the screen, cleared and became a photograph of a beautiful smiling woman with red hair. Jarod's mother.
"And?" Miss Parker prodded.
"Well," Broots gulped. "That's it."
"What?"
"That's all I could salvage of the file....the photo."
Broots winced as Miss Parker made a threatening gesture. "But wait, there's still the last file!" he exclaimed. Miss Parker forestalled whatever onslaught of words or otherwise she had stored in her artillery, and fixed her eyes on the screen. Without being told, Broots began to work with the file. It was more complex and larger than the last two. He looked more hopeful. "This one wasn't damaged as much as the rest," he informed Miss Parker and Sydney. "I may be able to do something with it...it'll take a little time."
"Miss Parker," Sydney said, pulling her aside for a moment. "If you please, what is the purpose of this?"
"It's my plan," Miss Parker replied, shortly but not unkindly. She ran her fingers through her hair and paced the room in agitated excitement.
"Which is?" Sydney pried.
"What it always is, Syd. To find Jarod."
"That's (wheeze) something you should have done (gasp) a long time ago, Miss Parker," a sinister voice said.
Miss Parker took alarm suddenly. She flashed a warning look at Broots who quickly turned his computer monitor dark and hopped out of his swiveling chair, retreating to a far corner of the room.
Mr. Raines stepped out of the shadows of the doorway and looked at the trio, when his gaze fell on Broots, the computer tech shrunk and then shook like a dry leaf in the wind. Miss Parker noticed the effect Raines was having on her team and took action.
She stepped over to Mr. Raines, crossed her arms in a power stance and said, snappily, "Hey! I don't remember putting you on the guest list."
"Well, (wheeze) I decided to crash the party," Mr. Raines replied.
"I liked him better when he was confined to the burn ward," Miss Parker addressed the room in general, making no attempt to hide her hostility. There was no one she knew of who appreciated Raines' company. But he had some unknown hold over this place, over her father even and she didn't know what that was. She was also convinced that he knew some secret about how her mother had died, but he was deliberately obscuring that knowledge.
Sydney was no longer reading his material, but stood silently like the calm before the storm. There was more to him than met the eye and he had no fear of his former colleague Raines. There was only disgust left. He remained silent for now. Miss Parker objected to having her battles fought for her. Sydney, however, knew that this battle Miss Parker was fighting was not hers alone.
"We can't always have what we like," rasped Mr. Raines. Squee...squee...squee. He wheeled his oxygen tank over to the computer where Broots had been sitting and breathed heavily. He stretched out one of his bony fingers and none made any attempt to stop him. He pressed a key. The screen lit up again and letters scrolled across the screen. SAMSON. These were followed by animation of a strong man with long braids performing daring feats. Evidently, it was Broots' personal screen saver program. Mr. Raines turned around and looked at all of them with shifty eyes. He was trying not to appear too foolish and his morbid curiosity in Jarod's chase was coupled with suspicion that Miss Parker still had failed to catch the Pretender.
Miss Parker grinned widely and raised her eyebrows in an expression that meant checkmate. She had won this round. "Can I help you out?" Miss Parker asked, pointedly.
Raines' sweeper Willie appeared and walked to Mr. Raines' side. Mr. Raines gave them a tired look and then nodded to Willie. They exited the room.
Broots went to the door and watched to see if they had really and truly left.
"That was too close of a shave!" Broots quavered.
"Silence, Broots. Get on with it!" Miss Parker replied, agitatedly. Then, once again she thought of the defeated expression on Mr. Raines' face and added, "By the way, good work!"
Once again, Broots took his post at the computer keyboard and worked with a new diligence after being tossed this unexpected praise.
Three hours later, Broots phoned Miss Parker with news. "I know it may sound hard to believe but I think I really got something this time."
"Bravo, Broots!" Miss Parker said.
Minutes later, she was standing behind Broots, eagerly peering over his shoulder to see what he had found.
"I think it has do with how the Centre obtained Jarod," Broots explained. "About where he was taken from. A location somewhere in Michigan. The Centre owns the property now."
"And?" Miss Parker prodded.
"Well, I put two and two together here and there with some of the info on Jarod's mother and on this Harriet Tashman person. Also, on that phone tap conversation that the Centre did and then..." Broots always seemed to enjoy explaining how he came to the solution or break-through. "And then," Broots held up his index finger and pointed to a shady corner of the room. "I showed all the information to Angelo."
"Angelo?" Miss Parker questioned, looking over to where the aforesaid was crouching like a frog staring at some papers on the floor. He seemed oblivious to her, Sydney's or Broots' presence.
"It was a brilliant move on Broots' part," Sydney said. "You remember how Angelo was able to figure out the location of Kyle and Jarod."
"I remember," answered Miss Parker, stepping back and watching Angelo more thoughtfully. Angelo was holding a marker in his mouth the way a dog carries a bone. It didn't look promising. Well, if Sydney was willing to put stock in Broot's plan...then perhaps she would, too.
Angelo suddenly picked up a map and lay it on the floor, staring at it, running his fingers over it. He pulled the marker from his mouth and drew something on it. Then, he quickly folded it again, gripping tightly to it, preparing to stuff it in his sweater.
Sydney kneeled down beside Angelo and said, calmly, "Angelo, please. Will this information help Jarod?"
Angelo stared at Sydney and mirrored the smile he saw there. Slowly, his hands loosened around the paper he was holding. Sydney gently took it and stood up. He started to unfold it.
Miss Parker snatched it away. "Thanks, Syd." She held it up to the lighting and studied it. Hmm...X marks the spot. She nodded to Broots. "Nice work, Broots." She looked around for Angelo, but he had done another one of his disappearing acts.
Her heels clicked on the floor as she left the room without another word.
Broots grinned from ear to ear and looked at Sydney and Angelo. "Well, what do you know." He always took great pride when any of his work panned out. "It worked!"
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Rochester, New York
Jarod was sitting on bench, wearing a black leather jacket and shades. In front of him, his hands were holding an unfolded newspaper, but he was neither reading the paper nor listening to the music which floated out of the restaurant behind him.
Presently, he lay the newspaper down beside him and pulled a cellular phone from his pocket.
"Sydney speaking."
"Sydney...do you think it's possible for people to change?"
"In what way, Jarod?" Sydney asked, jumping into the flow of conversation right away. He was used to these conversations that started with no greeting and ended with no farewell. Phone courtesy was never taught by the Centre.
"I mean people who have done the wrong thing. Who have made wrong choices in their lives because of things they had no control over. Can that person ever turn around and do what is right?"
"Yes," Sydney answered, slowly. "But I believe you know the answer to that already. But when given the chance, the person has to want to change for the better and still may have to accept the penalty for his or her former actions. That is not something easily done."
"Nothing is ever easy. Is it, Sydney?" Jarod put the phone back in his pocket and returned to his vigil.
His eyes were focused on the building across the street and he waited. As the time passed, his mind wandered and he thought back.
Thought back to a time when life had been easier and simpler. The innocence of his childhood. It had been a strange innocence though, more based on the fact he was ignorant of the way his simulations were being used. He thought of those he had met as a youth...Angelo, Kyle, Miss Parker...Somehow they were all tied together. The Centre had tied them together and there was now no way to separate them. He had escaped. He was free...and yet still he wasn't free. Not until he had helped them.
He spotted the person he sought. A lanky-looking man was headed towards the museum with a hat cocked over his head. Jarod calmly strolled across the street, taking an intersecting course with the man. He blocked the man's path before he reached the doors of the museum. Jarod slid the shades off his face and said, "Murdock! We need to talk."
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SAFE HOUSE
Somewhere in Michigan
Exact Location Unknown
She was dressed in black from head to toe...the perfect outfit for midnight snooping. The moist cool air blew past her. She had no apprehension of what she was doing as she approached the house. No one knew where she was for she had informed no one. She hadn't risked using a Centre vehicle or her own car. There was always the risk of bugs. She hadn't even called Broots nor Sydney. This victory was to be hers and hers alone. She smiled as she watched the lights flick out in the house. She had done the impossible. She had found Jarod's family.
There was a faint tap, tap, tapping on her conscience as she entered the garage. "Keep your nerve, Parker," she whispered forcefully to herself. The tapping stopped. She slipped black gloves on her hands. Then, she pulled a long pin from her pocket. There was a long hissing noise as the air escaped the punctured tires. One avenue of escape gone, she thought.
As she moved to put the pin away, it slipped from her hands and rolled on the floor. She turned her head quickly, trying to follow the sound in the dark. Leave no evidence. This thought rang her mind. She dropped to the floor on her hands and knees, groping in the dark. Where was it? A sudden careless movement on her part, tipped a small workhorse and several tools clattered noisily to the cement floor. Through the window outside, Miss Parker saw a light flick on. She sprang to her feet and rushed for the exit door. Just then, her foot struck the wayward pin and she toppled over, hitting her forehead hard against the floor. Stars swam before her eyes as she passed out in a dead faint.
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Jimmy Murdock, as he was known, narrowed his eyes and turned to make a break for it.
"I wouldn't run," Jarod warned. "The moment you do the police will be after you."
"What police?" scowled Murdock. "And what do I care anyways? When you have the right connections, you can get away with murder."
"The ones who are watching this area. Seems they got a tip to look out for any suspicious behavior," Jarod smirked. "Because this time, none of them are going to let you get away."
Murdock turned his head to study Jarod more closely. "Who are you?"
"Someone you've been looking for. Returning to the scene of the crime was not a smart move, Murry. You can call me Jarod."
Murdock's eyes widened at the sound of the name he had left behind at the Centre.
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SAFE HOUSE
Somewhere in Michigan
The voices floating above her head seemed to be faraway and she couldn't make out any words. It was as if she had been swallowed by a great black sea and was drowning. She fought against the waves of dizziness and semi-consciousness until finally she broke through the surface and there was light.
A glaring blinding light at first and she could only make out indistinct shapes. Then, suddenly everything came to into focus. She was lying on a soft bed and there was the scent of potpourri in the air....a calming fresh scent like a spring breeze. She tried to sit up, but her head began to throb.
"Try and keep still," a low calm voice said. "You hit your head pretty hard."
She obeyed the instructions, but turned her head slightly to see the speaker's face. She saw a young woman with red hair around twenty-seven years old. Her eyes were bright, shining with intelligence.
The girl smiled pleasantly. "Mother and I were beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up."
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Murdock sat looking down at Jarod through his nose like a weasel. They were seated across from each other in a booth, inside a cafe across the street from the museum.
"Why did you come back?" Jarod asked, returning Murdock's look with a knowing gaze of his own.
"I always finish what I start," Murdock replied, slicking his red hair back.
"So do I," Jarod replied.
Murdock sniffed. "So, I figure if you was going to pull something, I'd be in the hands of the cops right now."
"Maybe," Jarod replied, enjoying being mysterious.
Jimmy Murdock sneered at him. He stood up. "Then, I'm goin'."
"But I'm not finished yet." Jarod shook his head and sipped his coffee.
Murdock was not surprised. "Got a bone to pick with me? Was waitin' for you to get to that part."
Jarod continued. "You kidnapped Miss Parker, you got away with various crimes, you attempted to steal valuable museum artifacts and you run a gang of master thieves."
Murdock grinned and sat back down. "Yeah, what can I say? I'm a good enterpriser. And if it had worked, if I had got you, Jarod. I'd be retired right now."
Jarod was not in the mood to build Murdock's oversized ego. "You came back here to ruin a man's life. You were going to break into the museum and lay the blame on Mario Lopez. He has a good job now and a family to provide for."
"He had a good job," Murdock snarled. "He blew it. He betrayed us and there are rules among my business associates. No one betrays us and no one leaves."
"Well, you're just going to have to change the rules, Murry." Jarod replied. "Because people get hurt."
Murdock slammed his fist down on the table. "It's none of my fault! None of it! They'll all pay. All of 'em. Every single one," he hissed, significantly. There was a fierce, cold emotion in the voice that made Jarod shudder inwardly. Hatred.
Jarod sighed. Somehow he had hoped he might reach the young Murdock, the one who had been a wayward youth when first brought to the Centre. Murdock believed the Centre had killed his parents and Jarod wouldn't put it past them. The Centre had taken Murdock away from his family. Since then, Murdock had been building his own family...one of organized crime. Jarod wanted so much sympathize. The young Jarod and the young Murdock weren't all that different. Both had wanted to be with their families. But the older Murdock had made the wrong choices, showing no signs of wanting to correct them. And the young Murdock was gone...leaving in his stead an adult that was a menace to society. A menace made by the Centre.
Jarod stood up and made an almost imperceptible nod at Murdock. "You like that sort of thing, don't you, Murdock?" he asked. "You can run but you can't hide. Kind of like them, wouldn't you, think?" Jarod looked quickly to something behind Murdock, but the look was lost on Murdock, as he was concocting a plan of his own to nail Jarod and collect the reward offered to him by a certain cleaner at the Centre.
Jarod headed towards the door and Murdock, taking no time to puzzle out why he was being let off the hook, jumped up from his seat in surprise, attempting to follow him.
"Hold it!" a voice cried. "You're not getting out without paying the bill!"
Murdock shrugged off the manager and turned towards the door to find his path blocked by two official-looking people...a man and a woman.
"Jimmy Murdock?" the man wearing a suit said, looking at a sheet of paper with his picture on it. "Among your other aliases, I believe that is the one you use most."
Murdock eyed the man in puzzlement.
"A pattern, Mr. Murdock?" the woman observed. "Skipping out on the money you owe."
"Out of my way," Murdock snapped, balling his fist.
"IRS," said the man, holding up identification.
"No need to resort to violence, Mr. Murdock," said the woman, also holding up her own FBI identification. "You are charged with fraud and won't be going anywhere for a very long time."
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Miss Parker blinked a few times to see if she were dreaming. "What am I doing here?" she asked. She thought hard, but there was a sharp pain in her head. Fear entered her voice. "What's my name? I can't remember my name!" Her fingers gripped at the bedspread, convulsively. This was something she knew for certain she should remember and yet, no it couldn't be! There was nothing.
A flush of worry stole over the face of the girl who was watching her and then vanished and once more the young woman smiled pleasantly. Miss Parker watched her. She stood up slowly and left the room as one accustomed to making quick disappearances.
Miss Parker closed her eyes, willing that this nightmare would go away. When she opened them again and turned her head to look about she saw three now occupied the room. Herself, the young woman, and the third...an older woman with smile lines on her face and kind eyes. She bore resemblance to the young woman and Miss Parker did not take long to decide they were mother and daughter.
The mother sat next to the bed, smiled reassuringly and said in voice that sang with the sweet sincerity of it, "Please try not to worry. You hit your head and are disoriented."
"But my name," Miss Parker whispered, for undeniably those words had a calming effect on her. She dissolved into tears, "I can't remember it!"
"You need rest," the sweet voice of reassurance continued. "Rest now and try not to concentrate so hard. It will come back to you."
Through the tears, the world seemed to blur before her. Like my mind, Miss Parker thought. It's all blurry. I can't see anything clearly. But once again, the words of this kind motherly woman calmed her as had the pleasant smile the young woman still gave her. She needed rest. She closed her eyes and dropped back wearily into heavy sleep.
Every hour it seemed, though, they disturbed her sleep....shaking her, calling to her, making her awaken. Then, satisfied at last, the mother and daughter were content to let her rest. She fell into a soothing sleep and began to dream.
"What?"
"How are you coming with my gut feeling?"
"You need to ask...Why the game, " Miss Parker breathed, "with the creature? Why not just tell me?"
"Sometimes the destination isn't as important as the journey."
"Well...where on your journey did you find that surveillance tape?"
"In one of your mother's safe deposit boxes."
"Like her wedding ring and medical file."
"Oh, you'd be surprised what one could find in there."
"Jarod--" Miss Parker took a deep breath as he interrupted.
"Ah, you know the dance, Miss Parker. You help me with one of my secrets, I help you with one of yours."
Miss Parker gave in. "We weren't able to find anything about Igor or Fenigor. I don't know if he was my mother's ally or betrayer."
"Well keep searching. Igor...he holds the secrets to both our pasts."
"What makes you so sure?" Miss Parker pried.
"Call it, gut feeling." Click.
"Jarod," Miss Parker mumbled, slowly waking from her dream of the past. She opened her eyes again. She felt light-headed and weak, but better.
"She's awake again, Mom," the girl's voice rang out. Miss Parker was offered an icy compress and she took it gratefully and pressed it to her forehead.
"Then, the danger has passed," the sweet voice said in approbation.
The young woman studied Miss Parker's face intently. "Do you know who you are now?" she asked, hopefully.
Sparks of memory flowed into her mind. A hissing of tires. A fallen pin. Alarm at the sight of a light flicking on in the house. Bits and pieces. Fragments. Miss Parker whispered, "What am I doing here? Where am I?"
A hand touched the young woman's shoulder and she moved from her seat by the bedside and left the room. Her mother took her place and looked at Miss Parker. "We found you. As to what you were doing, we ourselves are puzzled by that...you don't know me...but I know who you are," she smiled gently. "I don't wish to shock you. Are you certain you don't know who you are?"
"I should know," Miss Parker said, blinking hard as she thought. "It's right there in the back of my mind, but I can't reach it."
The woman looked at her seriously. "Perhaps the reason you cannot remember is because the person who you are is someone you don't wish to be," she suggested.
Miss Parker couldn't follow this line of reasoning. "You think I want to forget who I am?" she asked, incredulously. "Who are you?"
The kind-faced woman's eyes grew darker as she thought over the wisdom of answering the question. "You may call me Margaret," she replied, steadily. "That was my daughter, Emily. And you are Catherine Parker's daughter."
You are Catherine Parker's daughter. Those defining words brought back the rest of her memory and things snapped into place coherently. She knew why she was here. So she had done it at last. Found Jarod's family. The perfect trap in which to catch her elusive Pretender. Smart move Parker, she thought. In the stillness of the room, after her two benefactresses had left her alone for a minute, Miss Parker began to think. Her mental faculties in fact were well in tact. She knew her name and even where she was, but this mattered little now. For she was in no condition to act at the moment. Not when her head felt like this. She had the strongest conviction that if she sat up now, her head would fall off.
They didn't leave her alone for long. Emily came again and handed her a glass of water. She watched as Miss Parker took a long draught and then said, "I think I should tell you."
"Tell me what?" Miss Parker asked.
Emily seemed to hesitate for a moment and then shook her head. "No. Nevermind. Forget I brought it up." Emily's face took on a sad look. "I'm sorry," she said. Swiftly, she got up and ran out the door.
Before Miss Parker had time to analyze Emily's puzzling behavior, she was presented with a new difficulty. A sharp pricking sensation in her stomach. Her ulcer. Miss Parker set her water glass on the nightstand near the head of the bed. She tried to ignore it and hide the pain. It was best the enemy did not see her at a disadvantage. But were these two women her enemies? Had not they, like her, had a major part of their lives shaped by the Centre? Several months ago, before she had made The Deal, such thoughts would never have occurred to her. But now. Another sharp pain. She grimaced and hugged her stomach. She was thinking too much. Sleep, that's what she needed. Perhaps then it would be easier to do what she had to do.
"Drink this," she heard a voice say, faintly. Still in the mists of sleep, Miss Parker unprotestingly drank the milky substance that was held to her lips. Immediately, the fire in her stomach ceased to burn. Ah, relief!
"How did you...?" she began to ask.
"Emily found your bottle of pills in your belongings and noted that you seemed to be experiencing some pain," explained the sweet voice pleasantly.
Miss Parker opened her eyes wider to contemplate this woman more thoroughly. "How did you know my mother?" she asked, in spite of a promise she had made to herself to keep silent.
"I was eight month's pregnant with Emily and things did not look well. We were being chased...There was no one to turn to. Nowhere to hide. But Catherine Parker...she found us a place to hide. A place to be safe...to have a home. For that, I shall be forever grateful to her." She stopped remembering and her gaze turned to Miss Parker. "And now...for you to be here. Life truly presents us with amazing gifts...now I have a chance to repay her."
Was this the reason she was being cared for so kindly? Miss Parker thought. There was no bitterness or reproach in the words of Jarod's mother. Yes, this was Jarod's mother, she finally allowed herself the thought. Her mother had rescued Jarod's mother and the rest of his family. She had tried to rescue Jarod too...and look what happened to her. Yet, surely Jarod's mother must know what Catherine Parker's daughter had become? How could she look upon her coming as one of life's 'amazing gifts'? What could she mean by that? Or was this kindness only prompted by the fact she was under the impression that Miss Parker had amnesia?
Miss Parker allowed herself a question. "How is my being here a gift? You don't know what I was here for." She hadn't meant her reply to be harsh, but it sounded harsh in her own ears.
"Because you know my son," answered the voice full of motherly love. Then, she repeated, "Because you know, Jarod."
"I don't understand," Miss Parker replied and it was the honest truth.
Jarod's mother smiled sadly. "I...I never got the chance to watch my little boy grow up. And yet I always thought of him...wondered about him. Each year I would think about how old he was...how big he must be getting. Wondering what were his hopes, his dreams. Wondering if he was alone or if he was loved...if he even remembered me. If he blamed me. Just wondering."
Miss Parker lay in bed silently listening. The pain her stomach had just about disappeared now, though her head still throbbed. The stray thought floated across her mind that since she had given up smoking these attacks of pain had been lessened. But the pain in her mind and heart still troubled her, nor would it lessen soon. Not at as long as she worked for the Centre.
Yet, as Jarod's mother continued to talk and tell the story about her search for her son and the years of hiding yet still maintaining such strong love and hope, the oppressive and demanding atmosphere of the Centre seemed a million miles away and she felt touched by a strange peace.
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The Centre
SUB-LEVEL FIVE TECH ROOM
BLUE COVE, DELAWARE
"No, sir. I don't know. She's gone. Where? Um...I don't know sir. She left and...No, no she didn't tell me where. Yes of course I will and I'll be sure to...Hello?" Broots set the phone down in frustration and finished his interrupted sentence anyways, "I'll be sure to notify you the minute I hear anything, you old pompous windbag!"
"Broots? Who are you talking to?" Sydney asked, walking into the room, holding a mug of coffee.
Broots nearly leaped out of his skin, wondering if his rant had been overheard. He tried to look nonchalant. "Um, nobody. I mean, that was Mr. Parker."
Sydney stopped in his tracks. "Mr. Parker?"
"Yeah," Broots said, putting his hands in his pockets and explaining. "He called looking for Miss Parker. Apparently, he couldn't reach her in her office, at home, in her car, or on her cell phone, so he tried here."
"But you do know where Miss Parker is, don't you, Broots?" Sydney asked, rubbing his chin. "You spoke to Angelo after he gave Miss Parker the map location."
"Me? Well, don't you? I mean, didn't you see the map?" Broots asked.
"I saw the map, Broots...for the space of two seconds. There was no time to read it. But Angelo knows--where is he?" Sydney questioned.
"I don't know," Broots shrugged. "Uh, Sydney."
"Yes, Broots?"
"You won't mention to anyone about...um anything you might of happened to hear me say. Cause I was talking to myself and I didn't mean anything by it. If Mr. Park-" Sydney slapped Broots on the shoulder and said, "Not to worry. These ears don't hear like they used to. I'm going to look for, Angelo. Keep an eye out."
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SAFE HOUSE
Somewhere in Michigan
Miss Parker's eyes shot open at the familiar click of her gun. Her sense of peacefulness was shattered. She turned her head swiftly and sat up to see Emily standing next to the bed holding it. She was wearing blue jeans and a slightly oversized gray sweatshirt. Emily was examining the gun intently and when she turned and saw the alarmed look on Miss Parker's face she said, quickly, "Oh, I'm sorry. It's not loaded. Didn't mean to startle you."
Miss Parker gave a short, nervous nod. She felt a small wave of dizziness from moving her head too quickly and eased it back onto the pillow. She caught the sense that Emily, Jarod's sister, had led a very sheltered life. She wondered what it was like...being in hiding since you were born.
Emily set the empty gun down on the nightstand and looked directly at Miss Parker, raising her eyebrows with curiosity. "You're one of them, aren't you?" she asked. "The people with guns who chase us."
Miss Parker made no attempt to hide the truth. "Not you...Jarod." She pressed back the guilt that began to press in upon her for she believed she would not have hesitated to use Emily to catch Jarod. She thought for a moment. "Where are the rest of my belongings?"
"Someplace safe," Emily shrugged. "I thought if I brought this for you to see...you would remember."
What was the point of this conversation? Miss Parker thought. Where was it all headed?
"Mother says...you know my brother." Miss Parker made no movement to deny it. Her thoughts were fixed upon the location of her belongings...there was a cell phone among them. Emily's words suddenly registered in her mind and she began to pay attention. "Did you know him when you were little?" Emily asked, quietly.
"Yes," Miss Parker replied, pressing the back of her head against the pillows she was propped up on. She was beginning to feel hungry...and why not? She hadn't had a proper meal in several days.
Emily suddenly remembered something. She walked around the bed and picked up a tray which she placed across Miss Parker's bed. She lifted the cover and a savory smell reached Miss Parker's nostril's. Her mouth watered. There was a rich and warm soup sitting in the bowl in front of her along with various tasty accessories.
"Thought you would be hungry," Emily said, smiling as she saw the way Miss Parker eyed the meal before her. Careful not to tip the tray, she sat down on the edge of the bed. "What was he like? My brother?"
Well, Miss Parker thought, as the young woman handed her a spoon, there was no harm in answering a simple question now was there? She sipped a spoonful and replied, almost cordially, "What do you mean?"
"Was he a nice boy? The kind who would have protected his little sister?"
"Yes," Miss Parker nearly smiled as Emily's questions caused her to remember days of her childhood. The days she had spent hiding near the sim lab to watch Sydney putting Jarod through his simulations. The times she had visited Jarod secretly and the short conversations they had had. "He let me hold a rabbit once...I wasn't allowed to have one as a pet at home," these words slipped out of her mouth before she was aware she had said them.
At this, Emily seemed to study her intently. "Then...you were friends," she surmised. "And yet, you chase him now, just like the rest of them." Emily brushed her red hair out of her face and seemed distressed.
Friends, Miss Parker thought. Her mind repeated Emily's words unmercifully. You were friends. She felt the iron resolve of her plan weakening within and fought to save it. "I don't have time for friends," Miss Parker whipped out the words, falling into a stony silence afterwards. She concentrated her energies on eating, feeling the warm broth enter her mouth and trickle down her throat...trying to empty her mind and think of nothing else. Trying to push away shadows of truths which tugged at her mind.
"How can you say that?" Emily asked her, sadly. "Everyone needs friends. True friends...friends that are forever. Even if we don't get to see them often."
The words touched Miss Parker and she felt tears gathering behind her eyes. She had tried so hard not to think about the childhood friendship between her and Jarod. It was something irrelevant to the chase...and perhaps even hampering. She was the huntress...Jarod was the hunted. She must keep a cool state of mind. She must stay detached. Brigitte had accused her of pursuers' sympathy. The Guesstimator, a man called Jonathan Bink who had once been brought in to assist her on the Hunt had told her, "My guesstimate was you didn't really want to catch him. Not yet anyway." At the Centre, such as these, amounted to weakness...weakness amounted to elimination. Thus, she had most heartily denied such accusations. But still, a deeper voice inside, whispered to her. Asking the question, to desert a friend...was this not worse still? Yes, Jarod deliberately annoyed her, teased and taunted, even set her up...but underneath it all...didn't he at least show he cared? A thing which her father, Mr. Parker, rarely if ever did show.
Her soup was finished and Emily, noting Miss Parker's silence to her statement in disappointment, silently removed the bowl and left the room.
Miss Parker could no longer hold the storm back. She took a deep breath, but the floodgates broke. The salty rain fell and trickled down her cheeks...and no one was there to wipe it away.
The house was quiet. Miss Parker slipped silently out her bed and began to search. At last, she found a clothes hamper in the bathroom built off of her room. It was filled with clean laundered garments. She took a shower and then got dressed.
She left the room she had occupied and then looked cautiously out into the hallway. She searched several drawers in the living room and at last found a bag containing her belongings in the bottom drawer. And then, she picked up her cellular phone. Quietly, she slipped back to her room and closed the door.
The Centre was just a phone call away. In a matter of minutes, she could have sweeper teams headed to this location and become woman of the day, capturing Jarod's family after they had managed to avoid capture, year after year. All she had to do was dial.
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The Centre,
Blue Cove, Delaware
Mr. Raines was not happy. Once again, Miss Parker had gone off without telling anyone and this made him suspicious. Mr. Parker obviously didn't know where she was, though he had dropped hints and done all he could to subtly push Mr. Parker into initiating a search for her. Mr. Parker's inquiries had come to nothing and thus there was left to him only one recourse.
"Mr. Broots (wheeze) where is Miss Parker?"
"Um...um...um," Broots gulped, breaking out into a sweat. "I don't know. I swear I don't know." He was cornered like a rat. No one was around, but himself and he wished with all his might that Raines would believe him.
"Broots?" Mr. Raines questioned, as Willie moved into the room. "I had hopes that you would be more cooperative before the situation gets too....heated."
Willie took a step towards Broots. Broots suffered flashbacks of a blow torch in another confrontation with Mr. Raines. "Please!" Broots said, dropping to his knees on the floor. "I...I really don't know."
"Well, then that'll be too bad for you, Daddy," Raines began.
Debbie! Broots thought. Would they harm Debbie if he didn't tell even what little he knew. "Alright! Alright!" Broots cried, getting to his feet. "I'll tell you. Just don't hurt my daughter. Miss Parker left. She got a lead on catching Jarod. It's the honest truth...she had some sort of plan to trap Jarod. That's where she's gone...but she didn't tell where. And that's all I know. I swear."
"Good," Raines breathed, heading for the door. Willie followed him. As he wheeled the oxygen tank away, he added, "For now." They would check the Centre flight records and if that failed, the commercial flights. They would speak to everyone who had seen Miss Parker the day she had left. A trail to follow was always left behind...no matter how one tried to cover it up.
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Angelo picked up an empty box of Cracker Jacks. He swept his fingers through it feeling the cardboard insides assuring himself that indeed no more of the toffee or bits of popcorn remained. Instantly, he dropped the box and scrambled through the air vents. He crawled through the vents with much self-assurance barely looking at the route he was taking. He knew every twist in the passages by heart.
He had been listening during Broots' interrogation by Raines and was relieved Broots was in no danger. At last, he came to a special part of the vents. Here, he kept a collection of things valuable to him. He fished through the contents of a box, little plastic boats, small iridescent DSA disks, prizes from Cracker Jack boxes; compasses, stickers, etc. and at last came to his assortment of maps.
He picked up a map, stuffed it in his shirt and scrambled through the network of vents. He finally emerged from a ventilation duct, entering Raines' office. As he had expected, no one was there. He turned on the computer. Then, quickly, he scribbled on the map, placed it in the scanner, and then hit send. He grinned slowly to himself. Jarod would understand.
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"I was hoping that since she found us, perhaps he too could find us. But we have delayed long enough already. It's not safe for us here anymore. Her injuries are healing."
"And she will fully recover?" Emily asked.
"We have a new vehicle without punctured tires and it is not safe to stay any longer." There was resolve even in the sweet soft-spoken voice. It contained a will made of steel which had held out against the Centre for many years.
"And if she tries to follow us to the rendezvous point? Notify those who chase us?"
"She will not try, because she is coming with us."
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It was the bumping that awakened Miss Parker from her drug-induced sleep. She was in the backseat of a road vehicle and the sky had grown dark. Jarod's mother and sister rode in the front seat...the older woman at the wheel. Neither of them looked towards the backseat, blissfully unaware that she had awakened. Miss Parker's hands were tied behind her back, but she noted her head rested on the bag of her belongings which she had discovered earlier. It took her only a few moments to work her hands free. Then, by stealthy movements which weren't quite as dexterous as usual due to the bumping of the vehicle on the road, she secured a grip on the bag without being detected.
"Hold it!" Miss Parker cried, throwing the bag to the front, obscuring vision at the windshield. Tires screeched and the vehicle skidded to a halt on the back road. By this time, Miss Parker had found a sharp object and was jabbing it into Emily's back. "Don't anyone move," she hissed. Her mind was teetering for she hadn't yet decided what she was going to do. All she knew was she was going to reclaim control of this situation for she had no desire to be bundled off to parts unknown unless she had picked the parts.
Emily sat stiffly, staring straight ahead, but she spoke quietly and seemed to sense Miss Parker's indecision, "You would go back then...when you have the chance to get away."
"Shut up!" Miss Parker replied, flashing her killer look. She was listening to a sound in the distance.
The soft-spoken voice of Jarod's mother again used that strange influence over her, despite the obvious distress in the tone, it again had a way of breaking down her defenses. "It is not us who you are angry with, Miss Parker. We have no fight with you. Please let us continue with what we have left of our lives."
"Your lives? What about my life?" She looked sharply at the older woman, attempting to stare her down.
Margaret replied, "Start a new life and become someone you truly want to be."
"What is it with this family? Sounds exactly like something Jarod would say," sneered Miss Parker. She gulped. The sound that she heard was that of a helicopter...and it was coming close. "You're my ticket to Jarod and Jarod is to my freedom. Understand?"
"I don't know how you found us. I don't know how it is the Centre discovered our location. But I do know this, you did not call the Centre," Margaret asserted.
"What makes you so sure?"
"I watched you. I ask only one thing. If my son contacts you...tell him...I haven't forgotten and that I love him."
Miss Parker looked into the older woman's eyes and what she saw there reminded her of an important thing. This was a mother, Jarod's mother but a mother nonetheless, and those were mother's eyes. Miss Parker looked at the weapon in her hand and her hand shook. She looked at this mother and whispered, "He doesn't blame you." Miss Parker appeared to have a spasm in her arm. She dropped the sharp piece of metal she had held to Emily's back and growled, "No one escapes the Centre for good. It's only a matter of time," at the same time she threw herself against the door and flung herself out of the jeep. She slammed the door shut behind her and looked up. Emily looked out the window at her. The young woman smiled a sad thanks. Immediately, the motor roared to life and the vehicle sped away through the twisting back roads disappearing at once from sight.
Miss Parker turned and began trudge along the path, headed in the opposite direction. It was dark and she stumbled often in her heels. "This better lead back to civilization," she grumbled to herself with clenched teeth. Gusts of air brushed past her and she had to blink to keep the debri from getting into her eyes.
Quickly, the noises of the helicopter's motor and propellers overtook her drowning out the rest of the wilderness around her. A searchlight hit the ground and Miss Parker stopped and stood where she was on the overgrown trail. A shudder rippled through Miss Parker's spine and then she frowned. But in a wink, all traces of the frown or any other emotion were gone from her expression. The light spotlighted her and the chopper flew in lower. A hooked ladder fell from the hovering craft as it slowly moved towards her position. The Ice Queen reached out a hand and grabbed the bottom rung. She had been found by the Centre.
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UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
SOMEWHERE IN MICHIGAN
SEVERAL HOURS LATER...
The message from Angelo had pinpointed this location. As Jarod approached the house, his nose picked up the unmistakable smell of smoke. And where there is smoke...Jarod broke into a run and arrived upon the site. A busy scene met his eyes. A fire chief was shouting directions to a small band of firefighters. Some were equipped with shovels and were digging trenches. Others were standing on the wet and slippery ground, holding onto fire hoses and attempting to direct the jet streams of water towards the base of the fire. Mists of their spray floated up and dampened the air.
Jarod ran over to a firefighter who seemed to be on the ball. "Stay back!" warned the firefighter. He spread out his arms as if becoming a human wall as he warned curious onlookers back from the dangerous flames.
"Is the fire under control? Anyone inside?" Jarod asked, grabbing the man's shoulder to get his attention.
The man shook his head. "No one inside, thankfully!" Then, he spit out bits of information as he continued to perform his job. "It's spreading quickly, but only--Step back folks!--through the house. You there! With the camera. Get behind the line. We've given up on saving the house, but right now we're watching to be sure it won't spread to the trees. I told you all to stay back. Funny thing though. One of the swiftest but cleanest burning fires I've seen. Might be it would have only burnt down the house and garage--even if we hadn't got here. There's little wind. Guess we were just fortunate."
Jarod didn't wait to hear more. He turned abruptly and weaved his way through the small crowd, who weren't many since this was a fairly rural area. Jarod entered the trees. Soon, the sounds of the roaring fire and the bustle of the firefighters were left behind him. He pulled out a flashlight. Jarod went into the trees and studied the ground, every twig that had snapped, every undergrowth disturbed. He walked over the area thoroughly, his eyes taking in each detail and recording it in his memory. It was the jeep tracks which he lingered over then followed for the longest. He paused and his excitement increased when he saw a depression of the tire tracks deeper than the rest and realized the vehicle had stopped here. He studied the footprints in the dust, noting the tell-tale marks of sharp heels. There was a quick intake of breath at his amazement over it. Then, onwards Jarod plunged through the brush and trees for now the paths were less travel worn here and soon dwindled away altogether vanishing in the wilderness. Still, he followed harder to find signs, trampled brush, broken twigs, slight disturbances on the ground that could not possibly have been made by animals. Quite abruptly, these faint signs disappeared altogether.
No longer trying to control his excitement Jarod beat the bushes until he struck metal. He pushed several lose branches to reveal the exterior of a jeep. Quickly, he yanked the door open and climbed inside. A moment later he jumped out, with something tucked securely under his arm. He looked around, picked a direction and went on with a purpose. He ran out into a large clearing, large enough for a small plane to land. It was here the trail ended. Jarod fell to his knees in disappointment, laying the item he had taken from the jeep on the ground. With decision, he flicked on his flashlight, opened the bag and peered inside. Someone had some explaining to do.
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MISS PARKER'S RESIDENCE
SOMEWHERE IN DELAWARE
Miss Parker sat curled up in an easy chair, trying to chase away the headache that still lingered after her debriefing session with the Board, which even Mr. Parker had chosen to attend. Her palm felt cold as she lifted pieces of ice from a cup on the stand next to the chair and popped them into her mouth.
It was with great reluctance that she answered the phone. "What?"
"Ring a bell?" greeted Jarod's voice, but she detected a note of discord in the tone which told her the Pretender was far from cheery.
"Haven't we had this conversation before?" Miss Parker asked, raising her eyebrows and wondering what more could go wrong in a week's time.
Ding dong! Her doorbell rang. Miss Parker shook her head. She should have known--
"Oops. Someone beat you to it," Jarod said. "You might want to answer that."
Miss Parker set down the phone and opened her door, cautiously. She saw no one. Her gaze fell to the ground and she knelt and picked up a navy blue dufflebag. She closed the door and carried the bag, sat down with it in her lap, and picked up the phone once more.
"Why'd you send me this, Jarod?" she asked. She couldn't say how glad she was to get her belongings back and along with it the confidence that there would be no possible way for her tools to be discovered out in the woods somewhere and be examined for incriminating evidence. "And how did you get it?" she added, eagerly.
"I found it lying around. Why were you in Michigan?" Jarod countered.
Miss Parker skirted around the question. "Why were you there and what do you want, Wonder Boy?"
"What I always want. The truth," Jarod replied, shortly. He continued, "I heard the Centre wished to know why it is that YOU--were near the vicinity of a Centre safe house which hadn't been used in years. In fact, would have been totally forgotten had it not been for the fact that you went unaccompanied by sweepers to that general area." Now came the clincher, "Did you find my family?"
Miss Parker sighed, Syd must have spilt the beans. She was not in the mood to talk to an irate Pretender. "I have just spent hours before the Board, answering questions. I don't have to answer to you, Jarod."
There was a pause. "I'm sor--"
Miss Parker refused to accept sympathy. "Oh, it wasn't a total loss. Raines was in such a fiery rage he nearly blew up his oxygen tank."
"Speaking of fires," Jarod said. "There was a fire which coincidentally destroyed all the clues. Except the one I just sent you."
A stony silence.
"What's the matter?" Jarod challenged finally. "Not up for the dance?"
"How is it, Jarod, that the more I learn about my mother from you the further away it seems I get from the answers?"
"No puzzle is complete until you have all the pieces," Jarod said. "The more you know, the more you find out just how much you don't know. By the way, did you know Murdock's in custody? I had plans of making him talk before I had to make that unscheduled trip to Michigan."
Miss Parker shrugged. "You want to know the truth, Jarod?" she asked, briskly. "Then, tell me everything you know about what happened to my mother."
"That's not the deal," Jarod replied, his own voice now seemed suddenly weary. "It doesn't have to be like this." Jarod displayed the prowness of his observations. "I think you found my family and you let them go."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Miss Parker retorted.
"No one will know," Jarod's voice lost its accussary note. It had been too late for Murdock--Murdock had long ago ceased to care if his actions hurt other people. But Jarod had always hoped, and now he knew, that this was not the case with Miss Parker. "Because the tracks aren't there anymore. And the fire destroyed any evidence sweepers might have otherwise found combing the area. But I won't forget it. The truth of the matter lies in your heart and that isn't ice."
The conversation would have ended right there on that note, but Miss Parker appealed suddenly, "Jarod!"
"Yes?" he asked in surprise.
"The Centre...I'm not their puppet...I--" Miss Parker hesitated.
There was no point in telling Jarod anything, she told herself. She didn't owe him anything. Then, Emily's words once more seemed to float across her brain like wisps of clouds in a night sky: You were friends. Almost before she knew it she heard the words escape her lips, "Your mother, she..." Miss Parker blinked. Her eyes were growing misty. "She never forgot and sends her love." Oddly enough, she realized her headache had completely flown.
"Thank you," Jarod replied at this unexpected proffering of information.
"Don't. I didn't do it for you," Miss Parker grumbled.
"I understand. Your mother would be very proud." The dial tone rung in his ear. Jarod smiled slowly to himself and hung up the phone.
This idea had its first flicker of a beginning with these statements.
"In 1969...Catherine showed up and asked me to shelter a man and a woman who had had their two young sons abducted. I knew them as Charles and Margaret. They were afraid. They'd been searching for years and they were on the run...She (Margaret) gave birth to a little girl a month later." --Harriet Tashman, in the Pretender episode, "The Dragon House."
This is an expanded version of the original one I wrote.
by Leah
Written in 1998 and 2001
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She never knew how closely he had watched over her since breaking free of the Centre. Nor how much he tried to help her in any way he could. Sometimes in subtle ways, doing things for her that would go unnoticed. Sometimes in larger ways such as warning her that her father's life was in danger. But mostly in the notes, the gifts he left her and the things he did to help her find out the truth of what happened to her mother.
He stood silently at a distance, watching from behind the shrubbery, as Miss Parker read the note, "Her voice is inside you." And he was gratified to see that she clutched it to her heart, then quietly touched her mother's gravestone in parting, with the arm that wasn't in a sling. Then, she walked away, still clutching the note.
Yes, then she remembered. Remembered the conversation that they had had as children. He had wondered whether or not she would, but she had not forgotten. And he had helped her, if even in a small way. It had comforted her, it had made her feel better, if only for a moment. He watched Miss Parker get into the car with her father and then watched the car disappear from sight. He gazed wistfully after it. Then, Jarod sighed and pulled out a red notebook. He had a job to do.
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER...
THE CENTRE
BLUE COVE, DELAWARE
A woman with a deadly serious expression was seated at a desk in her office, staring at a computer screen. She sighed, rubbed her temples, closed the laptop computer and stood up. She rubbed her arm, which had healed, though it still felt somewhat stiff at times. She strolled around the desk, stretching her legs. Those tracking reports were getting her and her team nowhere. They needed something fresh....something totally new...something that didn't end in a splitting headache. She pulled the cellular phone out of her pocket and hit a button.
"Um...this is Broots here," the familiar, stumbling voice came over the phone. Miss Parker grinned to herself over the thought that she could scare Broots even without being in the same room with him. However, that was not her purpose today. She had something else in mind.
"Broots...do you remember," she chose her words carefully, for one never knew if even her own office been bugged. One never knew exactly who was listening. Not at the Centre. "The eggs? The ones that turned out to be rotten?" You better remember it, Broots, she thought.
"Um...rotten eggs?" Broots repeated in a clueless tone.
"Yes, bird brain!" Miss Parker hissed. Remember Broots, don't be an idiot. I don't have time today, she thought furiously. Once Miss Parker with the help of Broots had snuck into the Centre Database to do some unauthorized research. Sydney had shown up unexpectedly and with his assistance, three hidden files had been found. Three long lost files about Jarod. She had uploaded these "eggs" from their "nest" onto the network and sent the files to Broots.
"Oh," a note of realization dawned in his voice. "Yeah, Falcon, I...I understand."
Falcon. Her code name. Good Broots, good that you remember. Now, for her plan. "Get them ready. We may be able to make a meal out of them yet." Then, after a moment's pause, she added, "And get Sydney."
"Now?" asked Broots.
She didn't want to say anything more to him over the phone. "Ditto!" She snapped the phone shut, stuffed it into her pocket, ran her fingers through her hair and exited her office on a straight-arrow course to Sub-Level Five.
As she rode the elevator down, certain words echoed in her mind. Although, this time, it was not the normal nightmare she had everyday. Nor was it anything to do with her own brush with death when she had been fired upon by Brigitte in this very elevator, racing against time to save her father's life. It was something else. It rested hazily in the back of her mind for a moment and then broke into her conscious mind. She remembered Jarod's voice. And now you tell me something...about my family. And why not? Hadn't he told her about hers. About her mother. Oh, he hadn't told her everything. She had a gut feeling about that and knew Jarod's ways all too well. He was holding something back from her and it only increased her certainty that she wanted to know what it was. On the day they had made The Deal, she had challenged him openly:
"But how do you know I won't double cross you, Jarod?" she grinned, malevolently.
"Because I trust the good in you."
"It's too late, Jarod. You won't reform me with one of your speeches."
Jarod looked at her with a knowing smile. "Then, I trust you want to know the truth about your mother just as much as I do."
Miss Parker fidgeted with the glass of lemonade and stood up. "People who trust wind up the losers. I'm going back to the Centre and I'm going to get you what you want. And you better give me what I want or else..."
The hum of the elevator ceased and the doors hissed as they slid open. Miss Parker brought herself back to the present and stepped out onto Sub-Level Five, heading in the direction of the Tech room. Trust was a huge issue for her. You can't trust anyone, not at the Centre, she thought. Not completely.
She paused in the doorway and surveyed the scene. Broots was sitting at his computer, his back towards her, fidgeting nervously with a disk. Sydney had taken a seat at the table and seemed to be absorbed in whatever reading matter that he had selected for the day. They were awaiting her arrival. She marched into the room, with unspoken instructions at the tip of tongue. Dare she trust them? Dare she trust them anymore than she already had? Memories seemed to flash through her brain, as if in a silent response to her unspoken question. Recollections of SL-27, Kyle, Jacob....these names were associated with secrets they shared. Then, memories of Raines, Lyle, Brigitte...foes they had fought...together. And then of Jarod. That's where her analyzations of herself usually began and ended. Jarod. She never allowed her thoughts to drift beyond that.
"Is something wrong, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked, half-shutting his book, but keeping his thumb on the page to mark the spot.
Miss Parker realized she had been standing in the middle of the room for several moments without speaking. She shook her head. "I'm fine, Syd." With a purposeful air, she looked towards Broots.
Broots looked at her blankly for a moment and then seemed to rally himself and asked quickly, "Are you sure about this?"
Definitely, Miss Parker thought. "Don't make me repeat myself," she warned. "Do it!"
Broots popped the disk into the slot and proceeded to call one of the three files up on the computer. Hazy images were produced along with strange looking computer codes and dispersed through these were lines of incomplete text. He looked at Miss Parker for further instructions. "What is this?" Miss Parker snapped, pointing to a fuzzy image on the screen.
"A photo," answered Broots. "From what I can tell....it's of..." Broots hesitated.
Miss Parker glared at him impatiently. "Of?" Spit it out, Broots, she thought.
"Of Jarod's father."
"How do you know?"
"From reading the text...well what I can get of it anyways. It seems to be about Jarod's father. The rest of the text is so broken up and I can't get the meaning out of it."
Miss Parker gave a condescending nod. "Can you clear it up?"
Broots fiddled with the keyboard, then gulped, and replied, "It's too far gone to salvage...I told you the files were damaged, Miss Parker. It would take a miracle to really get any real information out of them."
Yes, Miss Parker nodded her head impatiently, she already knew the files had been damaged. But this was important. Where there was a will, there was a way.
"Well, you'll just have to become a miracle worker, Broots!" Miss Parker commanded.
Broots turned back, punched several more keys, and the fuzzy image disappeared altogether.
"What happened?" Miss Parker demanded.
"I....I lost it," Broots admitted nervously. "The file's become irretrievable."
There was no time for wrath. This was too important. Miss Parker was silent a moment and then she said, "Open the second file."
Broots nodded. He began typing rapidly, his fingers flying across the keyboard and slowly the images of the second file began to take shape. Miss Parker peered over Broots' shoulder studying the keyboard. "What is this?" the question buzzed in Broots' ear again.
Broots, now feeling wound as tight as a spring, replied, "I've deciphered it has to do with...Jarod's mother."
A file having to do with Jarod's father and now Jarod's mother. How logical! "Jarod would kill for this," Miss Parker grinned like the Cheshire Cat, lapping up the cream.
"I doubt that greatly, Miss Parker," Sydney replied. "Jarod wants to know about his parents, but to take another human life is quite against his moral standard for life."
"It's an expression, Syd," Miss Parker said, rolling her eyes and once again focusing her attention on Broots and the file.
A photo on the screen, cleared and became a photograph of a beautiful smiling woman with red hair. Jarod's mother.
"And?" Miss Parker prodded.
"Well," Broots gulped. "That's it."
"What?"
"That's all I could salvage of the file....the photo."
Broots winced as Miss Parker made a threatening gesture. "But wait, there's still the last file!" he exclaimed. Miss Parker forestalled whatever onslaught of words or otherwise she had stored in her artillery, and fixed her eyes on the screen. Without being told, Broots began to work with the file. It was more complex and larger than the last two. He looked more hopeful. "This one wasn't damaged as much as the rest," he informed Miss Parker and Sydney. "I may be able to do something with it...it'll take a little time."
"Miss Parker," Sydney said, pulling her aside for a moment. "If you please, what is the purpose of this?"
"It's my plan," Miss Parker replied, shortly but not unkindly. She ran her fingers through her hair and paced the room in agitated excitement.
"Which is?" Sydney pried.
"What it always is, Syd. To find Jarod."
"That's (wheeze) something you should have done (gasp) a long time ago, Miss Parker," a sinister voice said.
Miss Parker took alarm suddenly. She flashed a warning look at Broots who quickly turned his computer monitor dark and hopped out of his swiveling chair, retreating to a far corner of the room.
Mr. Raines stepped out of the shadows of the doorway and looked at the trio, when his gaze fell on Broots, the computer tech shrunk and then shook like a dry leaf in the wind. Miss Parker noticed the effect Raines was having on her team and took action.
She stepped over to Mr. Raines, crossed her arms in a power stance and said, snappily, "Hey! I don't remember putting you on the guest list."
"Well, (wheeze) I decided to crash the party," Mr. Raines replied.
"I liked him better when he was confined to the burn ward," Miss Parker addressed the room in general, making no attempt to hide her hostility. There was no one she knew of who appreciated Raines' company. But he had some unknown hold over this place, over her father even and she didn't know what that was. She was also convinced that he knew some secret about how her mother had died, but he was deliberately obscuring that knowledge.
Sydney was no longer reading his material, but stood silently like the calm before the storm. There was more to him than met the eye and he had no fear of his former colleague Raines. There was only disgust left. He remained silent for now. Miss Parker objected to having her battles fought for her. Sydney, however, knew that this battle Miss Parker was fighting was not hers alone.
"We can't always have what we like," rasped Mr. Raines. Squee...squee...squee. He wheeled his oxygen tank over to the computer where Broots had been sitting and breathed heavily. He stretched out one of his bony fingers and none made any attempt to stop him. He pressed a key. The screen lit up again and letters scrolled across the screen. SAMSON. These were followed by animation of a strong man with long braids performing daring feats. Evidently, it was Broots' personal screen saver program. Mr. Raines turned around and looked at all of them with shifty eyes. He was trying not to appear too foolish and his morbid curiosity in Jarod's chase was coupled with suspicion that Miss Parker still had failed to catch the Pretender.
Miss Parker grinned widely and raised her eyebrows in an expression that meant checkmate. She had won this round. "Can I help you out?" Miss Parker asked, pointedly.
Raines' sweeper Willie appeared and walked to Mr. Raines' side. Mr. Raines gave them a tired look and then nodded to Willie. They exited the room.
Broots went to the door and watched to see if they had really and truly left.
"That was too close of a shave!" Broots quavered.
"Silence, Broots. Get on with it!" Miss Parker replied, agitatedly. Then, once again she thought of the defeated expression on Mr. Raines' face and added, "By the way, good work!"
Once again, Broots took his post at the computer keyboard and worked with a new diligence after being tossed this unexpected praise.
Three hours later, Broots phoned Miss Parker with news. "I know it may sound hard to believe but I think I really got something this time."
"Bravo, Broots!" Miss Parker said.
Minutes later, she was standing behind Broots, eagerly peering over his shoulder to see what he had found.
"I think it has do with how the Centre obtained Jarod," Broots explained. "About where he was taken from. A location somewhere in Michigan. The Centre owns the property now."
"And?" Miss Parker prodded.
"Well, I put two and two together here and there with some of the info on Jarod's mother and on this Harriet Tashman person. Also, on that phone tap conversation that the Centre did and then..." Broots always seemed to enjoy explaining how he came to the solution or break-through. "And then," Broots held up his index finger and pointed to a shady corner of the room. "I showed all the information to Angelo."
"Angelo?" Miss Parker questioned, looking over to where the aforesaid was crouching like a frog staring at some papers on the floor. He seemed oblivious to her, Sydney's or Broots' presence.
"It was a brilliant move on Broots' part," Sydney said. "You remember how Angelo was able to figure out the location of Kyle and Jarod."
"I remember," answered Miss Parker, stepping back and watching Angelo more thoughtfully. Angelo was holding a marker in his mouth the way a dog carries a bone. It didn't look promising. Well, if Sydney was willing to put stock in Broot's plan...then perhaps she would, too.
Angelo suddenly picked up a map and lay it on the floor, staring at it, running his fingers over it. He pulled the marker from his mouth and drew something on it. Then, he quickly folded it again, gripping tightly to it, preparing to stuff it in his sweater.
Sydney kneeled down beside Angelo and said, calmly, "Angelo, please. Will this information help Jarod?"
Angelo stared at Sydney and mirrored the smile he saw there. Slowly, his hands loosened around the paper he was holding. Sydney gently took it and stood up. He started to unfold it.
Miss Parker snatched it away. "Thanks, Syd." She held it up to the lighting and studied it. Hmm...X marks the spot. She nodded to Broots. "Nice work, Broots." She looked around for Angelo, but he had done another one of his disappearing acts.
Her heels clicked on the floor as she left the room without another word.
Broots grinned from ear to ear and looked at Sydney and Angelo. "Well, what do you know." He always took great pride when any of his work panned out. "It worked!"
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Rochester, New York
Jarod was sitting on bench, wearing a black leather jacket and shades. In front of him, his hands were holding an unfolded newspaper, but he was neither reading the paper nor listening to the music which floated out of the restaurant behind him.
Presently, he lay the newspaper down beside him and pulled a cellular phone from his pocket.
"Sydney speaking."
"Sydney...do you think it's possible for people to change?"
"In what way, Jarod?" Sydney asked, jumping into the flow of conversation right away. He was used to these conversations that started with no greeting and ended with no farewell. Phone courtesy was never taught by the Centre.
"I mean people who have done the wrong thing. Who have made wrong choices in their lives because of things they had no control over. Can that person ever turn around and do what is right?"
"Yes," Sydney answered, slowly. "But I believe you know the answer to that already. But when given the chance, the person has to want to change for the better and still may have to accept the penalty for his or her former actions. That is not something easily done."
"Nothing is ever easy. Is it, Sydney?" Jarod put the phone back in his pocket and returned to his vigil.
His eyes were focused on the building across the street and he waited. As the time passed, his mind wandered and he thought back.
Thought back to a time when life had been easier and simpler. The innocence of his childhood. It had been a strange innocence though, more based on the fact he was ignorant of the way his simulations were being used. He thought of those he had met as a youth...Angelo, Kyle, Miss Parker...Somehow they were all tied together. The Centre had tied them together and there was now no way to separate them. He had escaped. He was free...and yet still he wasn't free. Not until he had helped them.
He spotted the person he sought. A lanky-looking man was headed towards the museum with a hat cocked over his head. Jarod calmly strolled across the street, taking an intersecting course with the man. He blocked the man's path before he reached the doors of the museum. Jarod slid the shades off his face and said, "Murdock! We need to talk."
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SAFE HOUSE
Somewhere in Michigan
Exact Location Unknown
She was dressed in black from head to toe...the perfect outfit for midnight snooping. The moist cool air blew past her. She had no apprehension of what she was doing as she approached the house. No one knew where she was for she had informed no one. She hadn't risked using a Centre vehicle or her own car. There was always the risk of bugs. She hadn't even called Broots nor Sydney. This victory was to be hers and hers alone. She smiled as she watched the lights flick out in the house. She had done the impossible. She had found Jarod's family.
There was a faint tap, tap, tapping on her conscience as she entered the garage. "Keep your nerve, Parker," she whispered forcefully to herself. The tapping stopped. She slipped black gloves on her hands. Then, she pulled a long pin from her pocket. There was a long hissing noise as the air escaped the punctured tires. One avenue of escape gone, she thought.
As she moved to put the pin away, it slipped from her hands and rolled on the floor. She turned her head quickly, trying to follow the sound in the dark. Leave no evidence. This thought rang her mind. She dropped to the floor on her hands and knees, groping in the dark. Where was it? A sudden careless movement on her part, tipped a small workhorse and several tools clattered noisily to the cement floor. Through the window outside, Miss Parker saw a light flick on. She sprang to her feet and rushed for the exit door. Just then, her foot struck the wayward pin and she toppled over, hitting her forehead hard against the floor. Stars swam before her eyes as she passed out in a dead faint.
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Jimmy Murdock, as he was known, narrowed his eyes and turned to make a break for it.
"I wouldn't run," Jarod warned. "The moment you do the police will be after you."
"What police?" scowled Murdock. "And what do I care anyways? When you have the right connections, you can get away with murder."
"The ones who are watching this area. Seems they got a tip to look out for any suspicious behavior," Jarod smirked. "Because this time, none of them are going to let you get away."
Murdock turned his head to study Jarod more closely. "Who are you?"
"Someone you've been looking for. Returning to the scene of the crime was not a smart move, Murry. You can call me Jarod."
Murdock's eyes widened at the sound of the name he had left behind at the Centre.
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SAFE HOUSE
Somewhere in Michigan
The voices floating above her head seemed to be faraway and she couldn't make out any words. It was as if she had been swallowed by a great black sea and was drowning. She fought against the waves of dizziness and semi-consciousness until finally she broke through the surface and there was light.
A glaring blinding light at first and she could only make out indistinct shapes. Then, suddenly everything came to into focus. She was lying on a soft bed and there was the scent of potpourri in the air....a calming fresh scent like a spring breeze. She tried to sit up, but her head began to throb.
"Try and keep still," a low calm voice said. "You hit your head pretty hard."
She obeyed the instructions, but turned her head slightly to see the speaker's face. She saw a young woman with red hair around twenty-seven years old. Her eyes were bright, shining with intelligence.
The girl smiled pleasantly. "Mother and I were beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up."
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Murdock sat looking down at Jarod through his nose like a weasel. They were seated across from each other in a booth, inside a cafe across the street from the museum.
"Why did you come back?" Jarod asked, returning Murdock's look with a knowing gaze of his own.
"I always finish what I start," Murdock replied, slicking his red hair back.
"So do I," Jarod replied.
Murdock sniffed. "So, I figure if you was going to pull something, I'd be in the hands of the cops right now."
"Maybe," Jarod replied, enjoying being mysterious.
Jimmy Murdock sneered at him. He stood up. "Then, I'm goin'."
"But I'm not finished yet." Jarod shook his head and sipped his coffee.
Murdock was not surprised. "Got a bone to pick with me? Was waitin' for you to get to that part."
Jarod continued. "You kidnapped Miss Parker, you got away with various crimes, you attempted to steal valuable museum artifacts and you run a gang of master thieves."
Murdock grinned and sat back down. "Yeah, what can I say? I'm a good enterpriser. And if it had worked, if I had got you, Jarod. I'd be retired right now."
Jarod was not in the mood to build Murdock's oversized ego. "You came back here to ruin a man's life. You were going to break into the museum and lay the blame on Mario Lopez. He has a good job now and a family to provide for."
"He had a good job," Murdock snarled. "He blew it. He betrayed us and there are rules among my business associates. No one betrays us and no one leaves."
"Well, you're just going to have to change the rules, Murry." Jarod replied. "Because people get hurt."
Murdock slammed his fist down on the table. "It's none of my fault! None of it! They'll all pay. All of 'em. Every single one," he hissed, significantly. There was a fierce, cold emotion in the voice that made Jarod shudder inwardly. Hatred.
Jarod sighed. Somehow he had hoped he might reach the young Murdock, the one who had been a wayward youth when first brought to the Centre. Murdock believed the Centre had killed his parents and Jarod wouldn't put it past them. The Centre had taken Murdock away from his family. Since then, Murdock had been building his own family...one of organized crime. Jarod wanted so much sympathize. The young Jarod and the young Murdock weren't all that different. Both had wanted to be with their families. But the older Murdock had made the wrong choices, showing no signs of wanting to correct them. And the young Murdock was gone...leaving in his stead an adult that was a menace to society. A menace made by the Centre.
Jarod stood up and made an almost imperceptible nod at Murdock. "You like that sort of thing, don't you, Murdock?" he asked. "You can run but you can't hide. Kind of like them, wouldn't you, think?" Jarod looked quickly to something behind Murdock, but the look was lost on Murdock, as he was concocting a plan of his own to nail Jarod and collect the reward offered to him by a certain cleaner at the Centre.
Jarod headed towards the door and Murdock, taking no time to puzzle out why he was being let off the hook, jumped up from his seat in surprise, attempting to follow him.
"Hold it!" a voice cried. "You're not getting out without paying the bill!"
Murdock shrugged off the manager and turned towards the door to find his path blocked by two official-looking people...a man and a woman.
"Jimmy Murdock?" the man wearing a suit said, looking at a sheet of paper with his picture on it. "Among your other aliases, I believe that is the one you use most."
Murdock eyed the man in puzzlement.
"A pattern, Mr. Murdock?" the woman observed. "Skipping out on the money you owe."
"Out of my way," Murdock snapped, balling his fist.
"IRS," said the man, holding up identification.
"No need to resort to violence, Mr. Murdock," said the woman, also holding up her own FBI identification. "You are charged with fraud and won't be going anywhere for a very long time."
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Miss Parker blinked a few times to see if she were dreaming. "What am I doing here?" she asked. She thought hard, but there was a sharp pain in her head. Fear entered her voice. "What's my name? I can't remember my name!" Her fingers gripped at the bedspread, convulsively. This was something she knew for certain she should remember and yet, no it couldn't be! There was nothing.
A flush of worry stole over the face of the girl who was watching her and then vanished and once more the young woman smiled pleasantly. Miss Parker watched her. She stood up slowly and left the room as one accustomed to making quick disappearances.
Miss Parker closed her eyes, willing that this nightmare would go away. When she opened them again and turned her head to look about she saw three now occupied the room. Herself, the young woman, and the third...an older woman with smile lines on her face and kind eyes. She bore resemblance to the young woman and Miss Parker did not take long to decide they were mother and daughter.
The mother sat next to the bed, smiled reassuringly and said in voice that sang with the sweet sincerity of it, "Please try not to worry. You hit your head and are disoriented."
"But my name," Miss Parker whispered, for undeniably those words had a calming effect on her. She dissolved into tears, "I can't remember it!"
"You need rest," the sweet voice of reassurance continued. "Rest now and try not to concentrate so hard. It will come back to you."
Through the tears, the world seemed to blur before her. Like my mind, Miss Parker thought. It's all blurry. I can't see anything clearly. But once again, the words of this kind motherly woman calmed her as had the pleasant smile the young woman still gave her. She needed rest. She closed her eyes and dropped back wearily into heavy sleep.
Every hour it seemed, though, they disturbed her sleep....shaking her, calling to her, making her awaken. Then, satisfied at last, the mother and daughter were content to let her rest. She fell into a soothing sleep and began to dream.
"What?"
"How are you coming with my gut feeling?"
"You need to ask...Why the game, " Miss Parker breathed, "with the creature? Why not just tell me?"
"Sometimes the destination isn't as important as the journey."
"Well...where on your journey did you find that surveillance tape?"
"In one of your mother's safe deposit boxes."
"Like her wedding ring and medical file."
"Oh, you'd be surprised what one could find in there."
"Jarod--" Miss Parker took a deep breath as he interrupted.
"Ah, you know the dance, Miss Parker. You help me with one of my secrets, I help you with one of yours."
Miss Parker gave in. "We weren't able to find anything about Igor or Fenigor. I don't know if he was my mother's ally or betrayer."
"Well keep searching. Igor...he holds the secrets to both our pasts."
"What makes you so sure?" Miss Parker pried.
"Call it, gut feeling." Click.
"Jarod," Miss Parker mumbled, slowly waking from her dream of the past. She opened her eyes again. She felt light-headed and weak, but better.
"She's awake again, Mom," the girl's voice rang out. Miss Parker was offered an icy compress and she took it gratefully and pressed it to her forehead.
"Then, the danger has passed," the sweet voice said in approbation.
The young woman studied Miss Parker's face intently. "Do you know who you are now?" she asked, hopefully.
Sparks of memory flowed into her mind. A hissing of tires. A fallen pin. Alarm at the sight of a light flicking on in the house. Bits and pieces. Fragments. Miss Parker whispered, "What am I doing here? Where am I?"
A hand touched the young woman's shoulder and she moved from her seat by the bedside and left the room. Her mother took her place and looked at Miss Parker. "We found you. As to what you were doing, we ourselves are puzzled by that...you don't know me...but I know who you are," she smiled gently. "I don't wish to shock you. Are you certain you don't know who you are?"
"I should know," Miss Parker said, blinking hard as she thought. "It's right there in the back of my mind, but I can't reach it."
The woman looked at her seriously. "Perhaps the reason you cannot remember is because the person who you are is someone you don't wish to be," she suggested.
Miss Parker couldn't follow this line of reasoning. "You think I want to forget who I am?" she asked, incredulously. "Who are you?"
The kind-faced woman's eyes grew darker as she thought over the wisdom of answering the question. "You may call me Margaret," she replied, steadily. "That was my daughter, Emily. And you are Catherine Parker's daughter."
You are Catherine Parker's daughter. Those defining words brought back the rest of her memory and things snapped into place coherently. She knew why she was here. So she had done it at last. Found Jarod's family. The perfect trap in which to catch her elusive Pretender. Smart move Parker, she thought. In the stillness of the room, after her two benefactresses had left her alone for a minute, Miss Parker began to think. Her mental faculties in fact were well in tact. She knew her name and even where she was, but this mattered little now. For she was in no condition to act at the moment. Not when her head felt like this. She had the strongest conviction that if she sat up now, her head would fall off.
They didn't leave her alone for long. Emily came again and handed her a glass of water. She watched as Miss Parker took a long draught and then said, "I think I should tell you."
"Tell me what?" Miss Parker asked.
Emily seemed to hesitate for a moment and then shook her head. "No. Nevermind. Forget I brought it up." Emily's face took on a sad look. "I'm sorry," she said. Swiftly, she got up and ran out the door.
Before Miss Parker had time to analyze Emily's puzzling behavior, she was presented with a new difficulty. A sharp pricking sensation in her stomach. Her ulcer. Miss Parker set her water glass on the nightstand near the head of the bed. She tried to ignore it and hide the pain. It was best the enemy did not see her at a disadvantage. But were these two women her enemies? Had not they, like her, had a major part of their lives shaped by the Centre? Several months ago, before she had made The Deal, such thoughts would never have occurred to her. But now. Another sharp pain. She grimaced and hugged her stomach. She was thinking too much. Sleep, that's what she needed. Perhaps then it would be easier to do what she had to do.
"Drink this," she heard a voice say, faintly. Still in the mists of sleep, Miss Parker unprotestingly drank the milky substance that was held to her lips. Immediately, the fire in her stomach ceased to burn. Ah, relief!
"How did you...?" she began to ask.
"Emily found your bottle of pills in your belongings and noted that you seemed to be experiencing some pain," explained the sweet voice pleasantly.
Miss Parker opened her eyes wider to contemplate this woman more thoroughly. "How did you know my mother?" she asked, in spite of a promise she had made to herself to keep silent.
"I was eight month's pregnant with Emily and things did not look well. We were being chased...There was no one to turn to. Nowhere to hide. But Catherine Parker...she found us a place to hide. A place to be safe...to have a home. For that, I shall be forever grateful to her." She stopped remembering and her gaze turned to Miss Parker. "And now...for you to be here. Life truly presents us with amazing gifts...now I have a chance to repay her."
Was this the reason she was being cared for so kindly? Miss Parker thought. There was no bitterness or reproach in the words of Jarod's mother. Yes, this was Jarod's mother, she finally allowed herself the thought. Her mother had rescued Jarod's mother and the rest of his family. She had tried to rescue Jarod too...and look what happened to her. Yet, surely Jarod's mother must know what Catherine Parker's daughter had become? How could she look upon her coming as one of life's 'amazing gifts'? What could she mean by that? Or was this kindness only prompted by the fact she was under the impression that Miss Parker had amnesia?
Miss Parker allowed herself a question. "How is my being here a gift? You don't know what I was here for." She hadn't meant her reply to be harsh, but it sounded harsh in her own ears.
"Because you know my son," answered the voice full of motherly love. Then, she repeated, "Because you know, Jarod."
"I don't understand," Miss Parker replied and it was the honest truth.
Jarod's mother smiled sadly. "I...I never got the chance to watch my little boy grow up. And yet I always thought of him...wondered about him. Each year I would think about how old he was...how big he must be getting. Wondering what were his hopes, his dreams. Wondering if he was alone or if he was loved...if he even remembered me. If he blamed me. Just wondering."
Miss Parker lay in bed silently listening. The pain her stomach had just about disappeared now, though her head still throbbed. The stray thought floated across her mind that since she had given up smoking these attacks of pain had been lessened. But the pain in her mind and heart still troubled her, nor would it lessen soon. Not at as long as she worked for the Centre.
Yet, as Jarod's mother continued to talk and tell the story about her search for her son and the years of hiding yet still maintaining such strong love and hope, the oppressive and demanding atmosphere of the Centre seemed a million miles away and she felt touched by a strange peace.
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The Centre
SUB-LEVEL FIVE TECH ROOM
BLUE COVE, DELAWARE
"No, sir. I don't know. She's gone. Where? Um...I don't know sir. She left and...No, no she didn't tell me where. Yes of course I will and I'll be sure to...Hello?" Broots set the phone down in frustration and finished his interrupted sentence anyways, "I'll be sure to notify you the minute I hear anything, you old pompous windbag!"
"Broots? Who are you talking to?" Sydney asked, walking into the room, holding a mug of coffee.
Broots nearly leaped out of his skin, wondering if his rant had been overheard. He tried to look nonchalant. "Um, nobody. I mean, that was Mr. Parker."
Sydney stopped in his tracks. "Mr. Parker?"
"Yeah," Broots said, putting his hands in his pockets and explaining. "He called looking for Miss Parker. Apparently, he couldn't reach her in her office, at home, in her car, or on her cell phone, so he tried here."
"But you do know where Miss Parker is, don't you, Broots?" Sydney asked, rubbing his chin. "You spoke to Angelo after he gave Miss Parker the map location."
"Me? Well, don't you? I mean, didn't you see the map?" Broots asked.
"I saw the map, Broots...for the space of two seconds. There was no time to read it. But Angelo knows--where is he?" Sydney questioned.
"I don't know," Broots shrugged. "Uh, Sydney."
"Yes, Broots?"
"You won't mention to anyone about...um anything you might of happened to hear me say. Cause I was talking to myself and I didn't mean anything by it. If Mr. Park-" Sydney slapped Broots on the shoulder and said, "Not to worry. These ears don't hear like they used to. I'm going to look for, Angelo. Keep an eye out."
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SAFE HOUSE
Somewhere in Michigan
Miss Parker's eyes shot open at the familiar click of her gun. Her sense of peacefulness was shattered. She turned her head swiftly and sat up to see Emily standing next to the bed holding it. She was wearing blue jeans and a slightly oversized gray sweatshirt. Emily was examining the gun intently and when she turned and saw the alarmed look on Miss Parker's face she said, quickly, "Oh, I'm sorry. It's not loaded. Didn't mean to startle you."
Miss Parker gave a short, nervous nod. She felt a small wave of dizziness from moving her head too quickly and eased it back onto the pillow. She caught the sense that Emily, Jarod's sister, had led a very sheltered life. She wondered what it was like...being in hiding since you were born.
Emily set the empty gun down on the nightstand and looked directly at Miss Parker, raising her eyebrows with curiosity. "You're one of them, aren't you?" she asked. "The people with guns who chase us."
Miss Parker made no attempt to hide the truth. "Not you...Jarod." She pressed back the guilt that began to press in upon her for she believed she would not have hesitated to use Emily to catch Jarod. She thought for a moment. "Where are the rest of my belongings?"
"Someplace safe," Emily shrugged. "I thought if I brought this for you to see...you would remember."
What was the point of this conversation? Miss Parker thought. Where was it all headed?
"Mother says...you know my brother." Miss Parker made no movement to deny it. Her thoughts were fixed upon the location of her belongings...there was a cell phone among them. Emily's words suddenly registered in her mind and she began to pay attention. "Did you know him when you were little?" Emily asked, quietly.
"Yes," Miss Parker replied, pressing the back of her head against the pillows she was propped up on. She was beginning to feel hungry...and why not? She hadn't had a proper meal in several days.
Emily suddenly remembered something. She walked around the bed and picked up a tray which she placed across Miss Parker's bed. She lifted the cover and a savory smell reached Miss Parker's nostril's. Her mouth watered. There was a rich and warm soup sitting in the bowl in front of her along with various tasty accessories.
"Thought you would be hungry," Emily said, smiling as she saw the way Miss Parker eyed the meal before her. Careful not to tip the tray, she sat down on the edge of the bed. "What was he like? My brother?"
Well, Miss Parker thought, as the young woman handed her a spoon, there was no harm in answering a simple question now was there? She sipped a spoonful and replied, almost cordially, "What do you mean?"
"Was he a nice boy? The kind who would have protected his little sister?"
"Yes," Miss Parker nearly smiled as Emily's questions caused her to remember days of her childhood. The days she had spent hiding near the sim lab to watch Sydney putting Jarod through his simulations. The times she had visited Jarod secretly and the short conversations they had had. "He let me hold a rabbit once...I wasn't allowed to have one as a pet at home," these words slipped out of her mouth before she was aware she had said them.
At this, Emily seemed to study her intently. "Then...you were friends," she surmised. "And yet, you chase him now, just like the rest of them." Emily brushed her red hair out of her face and seemed distressed.
Friends, Miss Parker thought. Her mind repeated Emily's words unmercifully. You were friends. She felt the iron resolve of her plan weakening within and fought to save it. "I don't have time for friends," Miss Parker whipped out the words, falling into a stony silence afterwards. She concentrated her energies on eating, feeling the warm broth enter her mouth and trickle down her throat...trying to empty her mind and think of nothing else. Trying to push away shadows of truths which tugged at her mind.
"How can you say that?" Emily asked her, sadly. "Everyone needs friends. True friends...friends that are forever. Even if we don't get to see them often."
The words touched Miss Parker and she felt tears gathering behind her eyes. She had tried so hard not to think about the childhood friendship between her and Jarod. It was something irrelevant to the chase...and perhaps even hampering. She was the huntress...Jarod was the hunted. She must keep a cool state of mind. She must stay detached. Brigitte had accused her of pursuers' sympathy. The Guesstimator, a man called Jonathan Bink who had once been brought in to assist her on the Hunt had told her, "My guesstimate was you didn't really want to catch him. Not yet anyway." At the Centre, such as these, amounted to weakness...weakness amounted to elimination. Thus, she had most heartily denied such accusations. But still, a deeper voice inside, whispered to her. Asking the question, to desert a friend...was this not worse still? Yes, Jarod deliberately annoyed her, teased and taunted, even set her up...but underneath it all...didn't he at least show he cared? A thing which her father, Mr. Parker, rarely if ever did show.
Her soup was finished and Emily, noting Miss Parker's silence to her statement in disappointment, silently removed the bowl and left the room.
Miss Parker could no longer hold the storm back. She took a deep breath, but the floodgates broke. The salty rain fell and trickled down her cheeks...and no one was there to wipe it away.
The house was quiet. Miss Parker slipped silently out her bed and began to search. At last, she found a clothes hamper in the bathroom built off of her room. It was filled with clean laundered garments. She took a shower and then got dressed.
She left the room she had occupied and then looked cautiously out into the hallway. She searched several drawers in the living room and at last found a bag containing her belongings in the bottom drawer. And then, she picked up her cellular phone. Quietly, she slipped back to her room and closed the door.
The Centre was just a phone call away. In a matter of minutes, she could have sweeper teams headed to this location and become woman of the day, capturing Jarod's family after they had managed to avoid capture, year after year. All she had to do was dial.
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The Centre,
Blue Cove, Delaware
Mr. Raines was not happy. Once again, Miss Parker had gone off without telling anyone and this made him suspicious. Mr. Parker obviously didn't know where she was, though he had dropped hints and done all he could to subtly push Mr. Parker into initiating a search for her. Mr. Parker's inquiries had come to nothing and thus there was left to him only one recourse.
"Mr. Broots (wheeze) where is Miss Parker?"
"Um...um...um," Broots gulped, breaking out into a sweat. "I don't know. I swear I don't know." He was cornered like a rat. No one was around, but himself and he wished with all his might that Raines would believe him.
"Broots?" Mr. Raines questioned, as Willie moved into the room. "I had hopes that you would be more cooperative before the situation gets too....heated."
Willie took a step towards Broots. Broots suffered flashbacks of a blow torch in another confrontation with Mr. Raines. "Please!" Broots said, dropping to his knees on the floor. "I...I really don't know."
"Well, then that'll be too bad for you, Daddy," Raines began.
Debbie! Broots thought. Would they harm Debbie if he didn't tell even what little he knew. "Alright! Alright!" Broots cried, getting to his feet. "I'll tell you. Just don't hurt my daughter. Miss Parker left. She got a lead on catching Jarod. It's the honest truth...she had some sort of plan to trap Jarod. That's where she's gone...but she didn't tell where. And that's all I know. I swear."
"Good," Raines breathed, heading for the door. Willie followed him. As he wheeled the oxygen tank away, he added, "For now." They would check the Centre flight records and if that failed, the commercial flights. They would speak to everyone who had seen Miss Parker the day she had left. A trail to follow was always left behind...no matter how one tried to cover it up.
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Angelo picked up an empty box of Cracker Jacks. He swept his fingers through it feeling the cardboard insides assuring himself that indeed no more of the toffee or bits of popcorn remained. Instantly, he dropped the box and scrambled through the air vents. He crawled through the vents with much self-assurance barely looking at the route he was taking. He knew every twist in the passages by heart.
He had been listening during Broots' interrogation by Raines and was relieved Broots was in no danger. At last, he came to a special part of the vents. Here, he kept a collection of things valuable to him. He fished through the contents of a box, little plastic boats, small iridescent DSA disks, prizes from Cracker Jack boxes; compasses, stickers, etc. and at last came to his assortment of maps.
He picked up a map, stuffed it in his shirt and scrambled through the network of vents. He finally emerged from a ventilation duct, entering Raines' office. As he had expected, no one was there. He turned on the computer. Then, quickly, he scribbled on the map, placed it in the scanner, and then hit send. He grinned slowly to himself. Jarod would understand.
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"I was hoping that since she found us, perhaps he too could find us. But we have delayed long enough already. It's not safe for us here anymore. Her injuries are healing."
"And she will fully recover?" Emily asked.
"We have a new vehicle without punctured tires and it is not safe to stay any longer." There was resolve even in the sweet soft-spoken voice. It contained a will made of steel which had held out against the Centre for many years.
"And if she tries to follow us to the rendezvous point? Notify those who chase us?"
"She will not try, because she is coming with us."
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It was the bumping that awakened Miss Parker from her drug-induced sleep. She was in the backseat of a road vehicle and the sky had grown dark. Jarod's mother and sister rode in the front seat...the older woman at the wheel. Neither of them looked towards the backseat, blissfully unaware that she had awakened. Miss Parker's hands were tied behind her back, but she noted her head rested on the bag of her belongings which she had discovered earlier. It took her only a few moments to work her hands free. Then, by stealthy movements which weren't quite as dexterous as usual due to the bumping of the vehicle on the road, she secured a grip on the bag without being detected.
"Hold it!" Miss Parker cried, throwing the bag to the front, obscuring vision at the windshield. Tires screeched and the vehicle skidded to a halt on the back road. By this time, Miss Parker had found a sharp object and was jabbing it into Emily's back. "Don't anyone move," she hissed. Her mind was teetering for she hadn't yet decided what she was going to do. All she knew was she was going to reclaim control of this situation for she had no desire to be bundled off to parts unknown unless she had picked the parts.
Emily sat stiffly, staring straight ahead, but she spoke quietly and seemed to sense Miss Parker's indecision, "You would go back then...when you have the chance to get away."
"Shut up!" Miss Parker replied, flashing her killer look. She was listening to a sound in the distance.
The soft-spoken voice of Jarod's mother again used that strange influence over her, despite the obvious distress in the tone, it again had a way of breaking down her defenses. "It is not us who you are angry with, Miss Parker. We have no fight with you. Please let us continue with what we have left of our lives."
"Your lives? What about my life?" She looked sharply at the older woman, attempting to stare her down.
Margaret replied, "Start a new life and become someone you truly want to be."
"What is it with this family? Sounds exactly like something Jarod would say," sneered Miss Parker. She gulped. The sound that she heard was that of a helicopter...and it was coming close. "You're my ticket to Jarod and Jarod is to my freedom. Understand?"
"I don't know how you found us. I don't know how it is the Centre discovered our location. But I do know this, you did not call the Centre," Margaret asserted.
"What makes you so sure?"
"I watched you. I ask only one thing. If my son contacts you...tell him...I haven't forgotten and that I love him."
Miss Parker looked into the older woman's eyes and what she saw there reminded her of an important thing. This was a mother, Jarod's mother but a mother nonetheless, and those were mother's eyes. Miss Parker looked at the weapon in her hand and her hand shook. She looked at this mother and whispered, "He doesn't blame you." Miss Parker appeared to have a spasm in her arm. She dropped the sharp piece of metal she had held to Emily's back and growled, "No one escapes the Centre for good. It's only a matter of time," at the same time she threw herself against the door and flung herself out of the jeep. She slammed the door shut behind her and looked up. Emily looked out the window at her. The young woman smiled a sad thanks. Immediately, the motor roared to life and the vehicle sped away through the twisting back roads disappearing at once from sight.
Miss Parker turned and began trudge along the path, headed in the opposite direction. It was dark and she stumbled often in her heels. "This better lead back to civilization," she grumbled to herself with clenched teeth. Gusts of air brushed past her and she had to blink to keep the debri from getting into her eyes.
Quickly, the noises of the helicopter's motor and propellers overtook her drowning out the rest of the wilderness around her. A searchlight hit the ground and Miss Parker stopped and stood where she was on the overgrown trail. A shudder rippled through Miss Parker's spine and then she frowned. But in a wink, all traces of the frown or any other emotion were gone from her expression. The light spotlighted her and the chopper flew in lower. A hooked ladder fell from the hovering craft as it slowly moved towards her position. The Ice Queen reached out a hand and grabbed the bottom rung. She had been found by the Centre.
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UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
SOMEWHERE IN MICHIGAN
SEVERAL HOURS LATER...
The message from Angelo had pinpointed this location. As Jarod approached the house, his nose picked up the unmistakable smell of smoke. And where there is smoke...Jarod broke into a run and arrived upon the site. A busy scene met his eyes. A fire chief was shouting directions to a small band of firefighters. Some were equipped with shovels and were digging trenches. Others were standing on the wet and slippery ground, holding onto fire hoses and attempting to direct the jet streams of water towards the base of the fire. Mists of their spray floated up and dampened the air.
Jarod ran over to a firefighter who seemed to be on the ball. "Stay back!" warned the firefighter. He spread out his arms as if becoming a human wall as he warned curious onlookers back from the dangerous flames.
"Is the fire under control? Anyone inside?" Jarod asked, grabbing the man's shoulder to get his attention.
The man shook his head. "No one inside, thankfully!" Then, he spit out bits of information as he continued to perform his job. "It's spreading quickly, but only--Step back folks!--through the house. You there! With the camera. Get behind the line. We've given up on saving the house, but right now we're watching to be sure it won't spread to the trees. I told you all to stay back. Funny thing though. One of the swiftest but cleanest burning fires I've seen. Might be it would have only burnt down the house and garage--even if we hadn't got here. There's little wind. Guess we were just fortunate."
Jarod didn't wait to hear more. He turned abruptly and weaved his way through the small crowd, who weren't many since this was a fairly rural area. Jarod entered the trees. Soon, the sounds of the roaring fire and the bustle of the firefighters were left behind him. He pulled out a flashlight. Jarod went into the trees and studied the ground, every twig that had snapped, every undergrowth disturbed. He walked over the area thoroughly, his eyes taking in each detail and recording it in his memory. It was the jeep tracks which he lingered over then followed for the longest. He paused and his excitement increased when he saw a depression of the tire tracks deeper than the rest and realized the vehicle had stopped here. He studied the footprints in the dust, noting the tell-tale marks of sharp heels. There was a quick intake of breath at his amazement over it. Then, onwards Jarod plunged through the brush and trees for now the paths were less travel worn here and soon dwindled away altogether vanishing in the wilderness. Still, he followed harder to find signs, trampled brush, broken twigs, slight disturbances on the ground that could not possibly have been made by animals. Quite abruptly, these faint signs disappeared altogether.
No longer trying to control his excitement Jarod beat the bushes until he struck metal. He pushed several lose branches to reveal the exterior of a jeep. Quickly, he yanked the door open and climbed inside. A moment later he jumped out, with something tucked securely under his arm. He looked around, picked a direction and went on with a purpose. He ran out into a large clearing, large enough for a small plane to land. It was here the trail ended. Jarod fell to his knees in disappointment, laying the item he had taken from the jeep on the ground. With decision, he flicked on his flashlight, opened the bag and peered inside. Someone had some explaining to do.
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MISS PARKER'S RESIDENCE
SOMEWHERE IN DELAWARE
Miss Parker sat curled up in an easy chair, trying to chase away the headache that still lingered after her debriefing session with the Board, which even Mr. Parker had chosen to attend. Her palm felt cold as she lifted pieces of ice from a cup on the stand next to the chair and popped them into her mouth.
It was with great reluctance that she answered the phone. "What?"
"Ring a bell?" greeted Jarod's voice, but she detected a note of discord in the tone which told her the Pretender was far from cheery.
"Haven't we had this conversation before?" Miss Parker asked, raising her eyebrows and wondering what more could go wrong in a week's time.
Ding dong! Her doorbell rang. Miss Parker shook her head. She should have known--
"Oops. Someone beat you to it," Jarod said. "You might want to answer that."
Miss Parker set down the phone and opened her door, cautiously. She saw no one. Her gaze fell to the ground and she knelt and picked up a navy blue dufflebag. She closed the door and carried the bag, sat down with it in her lap, and picked up the phone once more.
"Why'd you send me this, Jarod?" she asked. She couldn't say how glad she was to get her belongings back and along with it the confidence that there would be no possible way for her tools to be discovered out in the woods somewhere and be examined for incriminating evidence. "And how did you get it?" she added, eagerly.
"I found it lying around. Why were you in Michigan?" Jarod countered.
Miss Parker skirted around the question. "Why were you there and what do you want, Wonder Boy?"
"What I always want. The truth," Jarod replied, shortly. He continued, "I heard the Centre wished to know why it is that YOU--were near the vicinity of a Centre safe house which hadn't been used in years. In fact, would have been totally forgotten had it not been for the fact that you went unaccompanied by sweepers to that general area." Now came the clincher, "Did you find my family?"
Miss Parker sighed, Syd must have spilt the beans. She was not in the mood to talk to an irate Pretender. "I have just spent hours before the Board, answering questions. I don't have to answer to you, Jarod."
There was a pause. "I'm sor--"
Miss Parker refused to accept sympathy. "Oh, it wasn't a total loss. Raines was in such a fiery rage he nearly blew up his oxygen tank."
"Speaking of fires," Jarod said. "There was a fire which coincidentally destroyed all the clues. Except the one I just sent you."
A stony silence.
"What's the matter?" Jarod challenged finally. "Not up for the dance?"
"How is it, Jarod, that the more I learn about my mother from you the further away it seems I get from the answers?"
"No puzzle is complete until you have all the pieces," Jarod said. "The more you know, the more you find out just how much you don't know. By the way, did you know Murdock's in custody? I had plans of making him talk before I had to make that unscheduled trip to Michigan."
Miss Parker shrugged. "You want to know the truth, Jarod?" she asked, briskly. "Then, tell me everything you know about what happened to my mother."
"That's not the deal," Jarod replied, his own voice now seemed suddenly weary. "It doesn't have to be like this." Jarod displayed the prowness of his observations. "I think you found my family and you let them go."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Miss Parker retorted.
"No one will know," Jarod's voice lost its accussary note. It had been too late for Murdock--Murdock had long ago ceased to care if his actions hurt other people. But Jarod had always hoped, and now he knew, that this was not the case with Miss Parker. "Because the tracks aren't there anymore. And the fire destroyed any evidence sweepers might have otherwise found combing the area. But I won't forget it. The truth of the matter lies in your heart and that isn't ice."
The conversation would have ended right there on that note, but Miss Parker appealed suddenly, "Jarod!"
"Yes?" he asked in surprise.
"The Centre...I'm not their puppet...I--" Miss Parker hesitated.
There was no point in telling Jarod anything, she told herself. She didn't owe him anything. Then, Emily's words once more seemed to float across her brain like wisps of clouds in a night sky: You were friends. Almost before she knew it she heard the words escape her lips, "Your mother, she..." Miss Parker blinked. Her eyes were growing misty. "She never forgot and sends her love." Oddly enough, she realized her headache had completely flown.
"Thank you," Jarod replied at this unexpected proffering of information.
"Don't. I didn't do it for you," Miss Parker grumbled.
"I understand. Your mother would be very proud." The dial tone rung in his ear. Jarod smiled slowly to himself and hung up the phone.
