Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Microsoft Word

- Text Size +

All Pretender related items are copyright by Pretender Productions and NBC. If someone would like to steal this story to make into a script for the show, fine, JUST GIVE paula CREDIT!!!!!







Firsthand Evidence

By paula h








Part One



A mid-August morning. A middle-class neighborhood. There were aristocratic old brick homes, a few Victorians, and intermixed, were company-built duplexes. The neighborhood had seen better days but still held its head high, less concerned with appearances than substance. There were few privacy fences, many low pickets and many yards open to all. Children were running through the yards, jumping the fences and riding bikes in the street. People nodded or smiled as they passed the dark man in a white T-shirt and black jeans. They felt safe. They belonged. Jarod absorbed the feeling along with the visual details.



Details were why Jarod came. He had a new red notebook with copies of several newspaper articles: "Local Man Graduates Law School with Honors", "Local Lawyer Arrested for Assault", "Lawyer Hospitalized After Attacking Landlord", "Suicide? Local Man Killed in Freak Accident". He also had an old red file. All contained the same man's name, Eric Strand. Eric had been a pretender. One of those saved by Catherine Parker. One of the children, who grew up free, then died suddenly. Jarod intended to find out the details of what had happened to Eric.



Jarod was staying at an older motel near the bus station for the past three days, while preparing for this investigation. He had used the local Transit Authority and memorized bus schedules. The Centre had gotten just a little too close at his last pretend because of a rental car. He did not intend to give them that opportunity here. Besides, he liked riding the back of the bus, watching people interact.



***



"Well, Broots, what kind of car is Jarod driving this week?" Miss Parker asked as she marched into his work area. She wore an extremely tailored suit of heavy slate silk. She moved like a grey ghost except for the click of her heels.



"I can't find any record of him through any rental agency," Broots responded. He wore a black, red and white print cotton shirt over khaki slacks.



Miss Parker threw herself into a chair. "I doubt that he's walking. What about car registrations or plane tickets?"



"Car registrations can take a week to process. And you know how he is with credit cards. I haven't found anything," Broots winced from her stare. "I did check this morning for large amount cash purchases of tickets." Parker just looked; he ducked his head, "Nothing..., but he could be taking shorter flights."



"Maybe he's taking the bus; leaving the driving to us," Parker smiled without meaning it. "Where's Syd?"



"In his office analyzing the Pretender Project again."



Parker nodded, rose quickly and left. Broots sighed, relieved to be alone.



"Well, Sydney, find anything new?" Miss Parker swept into his office with attitude; Sydney smiled at her, not intimidated. "Good morning, Miss Parker," he responded warmly, "and no, the conclusion is the same," his smile faded.



"So you don't think your little pretender is safe in the big bad world?"



"I'm not sure the world is entirely safe from him." Sydney looked down at the folders stacked on his desk. He pushed himself away from them and began slowly pacing the room.



"I have spent a week reviewing these," he indicated the files. "The Centre's database and several psychologists' studies." Sydney ran a hand over his face. He straightened his dark tie. It saddened him to concede to the findings. "It would be best for Jarod to return to The Centre."



The studies concluded that those individuals with greater pretender abilities did not function well outside The Centre's structured environment. Most children studied at The Centre had lesser abilities and lesser problems. If properly socialized at a young age, with a sufficient support system, and some psychological treatment, they could cope and blend into society. Compared with what one psychologist, Dr. John Abraham, considered control groups, they were safe from and not a danger to Society. Dr. Abraham's two control groups consisted of those who had no pretender abilities and the few whose pretender skills were so advanced that they might remain at The Centre for life.



It was the last group that caused concern. The individuals with advanced or enhanced pretender abilities. These were always a small minority and only a handful lived outside The Centre. All had problems. All were self-destructive to some degree, though most were not dangerous. Dr. Abraham postulated that pretenders, in an unstructured environment, became increasingly psychotic, ranging toward schizophrenic and sociopathic behavior. He recommended strongly that those pretenders with greater abilities never be released. Lyle was an example. Miss Parker, who lived in The Centre and the world, was not spared. And then there was Jarod.



Jarod, the most skilled pretender of all, had certainly not blended into society during his several years of freedom. He skipped across life like a stone thrown across a pond. He touched but did not - perhaps, could not - connect enough to build permanence. Sydney had feared, then hoped that Jarod would disappear. That he could negate Dr. Abraham's theory that pretenders were incapable of forming an identity, fixing reality and leading a real life.



Sydney had read and reread every word in Jarod's little red books, looking for signs of change. He noted a more aggressive attitude over the last few months. Was Jarod hostile because of The Centre or because of "the big, bad world"? Would he become self-destructive or violent? Sydney did not want to loose Jarod. He decided to contact Dr. Abraham.



Sydney sighed deeply as he picked up the case study Dr. Abraham cited to verify his conclusion. The file was marked "Eric Strand". He handed it to Miss Parker.



***



Eric had been adopted by Thomas and Mary Strand shortly after rescue and grew up in this town, Sherdon, Ohio. Sherdon was a former steel town, now its two main employers were a junior college and a large hospital associated with a national chain. There were a few small factories and local businesses. The majority of people who lived here commuted to Cleveland to work.



Jarod had scanned his DSAs and The Centre file. He found no surprises. Nothing different from Jarod's childhood at The Centre. Eric had been a good little pretender. Here his life had been "normal". He did well in school, primary through college. He graduated from Law School with honors, then got a job with a mid-sized law firm in Cleveland. There was nothing unusual in his history after The Centre, until shortly before his death.



Before coming here Jarod spent a day reconnoitring the neighborhood. There was no evidence that The Centre had anything to do with Eric's death but they could have someone watching. Jarod thought that might be paranoid but that was how he stayed free. Eric had lived in a house owned by a Mr. and Mrs. Furmansky. That was Jarod's ultimate destination. There was nothing suspicious about the Furmanskys or their neighbors on the left. Both were older and seemed friendly.



The neighbors on the right were younger, a man and woman about Jarod's age, with boys thirteen and four, and a large dog. The people looked pleasant and the dog looked intimidating. The man seemed some how familiar so Jarod went back to the newspapers and reviewed articles from Eric's death to the present. He found what he expected, the man's picture on the front page two weeks after Eric died. The man's name was Carl Alison and he was a psychiatric nurse at the Medical Center. He had been arrested for stealing prescription drugs. Further stories listed some evidence and Mr. Alison's denials. There was also a blurb on the family and how devastated they were by the charges. Mr. Alison's trial was scheduled to start in one week.



The facts caught Jarod's interest. Back in his room, Jarod searched local records via the Internet. Mr. Alison had been a registered nurse for fifteen years. He had furthered his education with excellent grades while raising a family. His employment record was exemplary; his marriage seemed fine; he had no criminal record as an adult. Alison had qualified as a psychiatric nurse eighteen months before his arrest. His house and bank account were average and Jarod could find no hidden money or huge expenses. Sherdon Medical Center had a policy of doing random drug screens on all new employees and transfers. Carl Alison's drug screen was negative less than two years ago and at the time of his arrest. If he had stolen drugs they were not for personal use. It did not fit. This might be something Jarod could fix, someone he could help, that made him smile.



Now Jarod crossed the driveway on the left of the Furmansky's frame duplex. John and Betty Furmansky lived in the bottom half; the upper floor was a large apartment. Both floors had big front porches; stairs led from the apartment's porch to the Furmansky's. The apartment's back stairway ended next to the Furmansky's kitchen door. They could not help but know something.



Jarod climbed the Furmansky's porch steps and went to the front door. The door was open with only a locked screen door to keep out the world. "This," Jarod thought, "life without hiding." He knocked on the screen.



A man in his late sixties rose slowly from the couch and limped to the door, leaning on a cane. He held his right arm at a slightly odd angle. A woman in her mid-sixties looked out from the kitchen.



Jarod smiled, "Hello, I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you. My name is Jarod Harker and I'm a cousin of Eric Strand. I believe he rented an apartment from you?"



The man looked Jarod over, "Eric never mentioned you."



"We were not particularly close. I haven't seen him since we were both a lot younger. He grew up here and I grew up in Delaware."



"Cousins, you say," Mr. Furmansky nodded, "On the mother's side?"



"Eric's mother was an only child but his great aunt had a family; I'm from that side."



Mr. Furmansky nodded again, "Yeah, they did live out East. Well, come on in." He opened the screen door.



Mrs. Furmansky came into the room briefly and motioned them into the kitchen. "May I offer you some coffee, Mr. Harker?" she pointed Jarod to a chair.



"Just call me Jarod, please and don't go to any trouble."



"It's no trouble at all," she smiled and Jarod felt welcome. "We're really glad you came. Eric's things are still upstairs and we can't decide what to do with them." Mrs. Furmansky started the coffee and joined Jarod and her husband at the table.



"Hasn't anyone else been here about them?"



"No, not since the investigation, after he...you know. After he got sick." she looked out the window, her eyes full of tears.



"That's why I'm here," Jarod said, leaning toward her over the table. "I want to find out what happened with Eric. When I last saw him he was fine." Jarod thought back. It was the truth but they were both young boys the last time he saw Eric. It was on a DSA. Eric was about two years older than Jarod, intelligent, medium build and blond. They performed a simulation together, both far too serious for their ages. Eric seemed mentally sound.



Mrs. Furmansky got up to pour their coffee. She put milk, sugar, spoons, and the cups on the table. Mr. Furmansky continued to look at Jarod. He cleared his throat, "You'll excuse me, Mr. Harker...ah, Jarod, but you don't look at all like Eric's mother. Could I see some ID?" Mrs. Furmansky glanced at her husband, then sat down. Jarod produced a driver's license, library card and credit cards, all with the name 'Jarod Harker'. "Thank you, Jarod. It may seem strange to you that I asked but toward the end...when Eric got sick...he kept saying there was someone after him. We told the police but they said it was all part of his sickness." They were all silent while they sipped the hot coffee.



"This is very good, Mrs. Furmansky. Thank you." Jarod broke the silence.



"Oh, thank you, Dear. I guess we should tell you about Eric and then take you up to see the apartment. It's been over a year. We haven't had the heart to rent the place to anyone else. Eric lived with us for over four years."



"So, you knew him pretty well?" Jarod held back the hundred questions rolling through his mind.



"We knew Eric from a young boy," Mr. Furmansky continued, "I worked with his father, Tom, at the mill till we both retired. I remember when Eric graduated from college. How proud his parents were of him." Mr. Furmansky turned serious, "Did you know he was adopted?"



"Yes," Jarod nodded, "Did he know?"



"Well, he was a little older when they adopted him, about nine. But they never spoke about it and after a while it sort of got to be forgotten. Eric never seemed to care. Tom and Mary loved him and he loved them."



Mrs. Furmansky took over the conversation, "Mary started to get sick a little bit after Eric graduated from college. She never said much but she went down hill quickly. Tom said Mary never wanted him to talk to Eric about the adoption. He didn't know all that much, really. It was a private adoption, they went to New York to get Eric, came back and that was all. They did say that the woman who brought him to New York wasn't his mother, but she seemed to care a lot about him. There was a lawyer and the adoption was legal and all." Mrs. Furmansky shrugged.



"Anyway,



Tom took a heart attack about six months after Mary died and it was a bad one. He got some better but it was just a matter of time. Somewhere along the way he got all the paperwork from the adoption and put it in a big envelope. When he was sure the end was coming he gave the envelope to Eric and they talked about it a little. They were real close." Mrs. Furmansky looked sad. Jarod felt a sudden emptiness in his chest.



Mr. Furmansky took up the story, "Eric took his dad's death real hard. He sold their house and packed up everything."



"We had no children of our own," Mrs. Furmansky continued, "and our apartment was empty, so we asked him to live there. We were happy to have him. He was a hard worker and a good man."



Mr. Furmansky started again, "He was doing well at the law office where he worked and he seemed to be over his parents' deaths. Then he told us he was going to try to find the lawyer who arranged his adoption and find out who his first parents were. He tried on and off for a year or so but he said it was like he never existed before the Strands adopted him. That bothered him a little. He hired a private investigator about a year and a half ago and that man found something out. Eric never said what or how. It was right after that he started to change. Eric got real sad and acted nervous or funny somehow. He wouldn't talk about it. He had been dating a nice girl and broke up with her. He took to staying in his apartment, sometimes working on his computer all night. Always by himself. He hardly stopped down here even."



"He just changed so much," Mrs. Furmansky shook her head sadly.



"My wife's right, he really changed," Mr. Furmansky continued. "I think he had nightmares. I sleep light and sometimes I'd hear him yell in the night. I would hear little noises up there at all hours.



"He had some trouble at work. We don't know much about that. He got into a fight with his PI at the law office. The man had him arrested but later dropped the charges. That really started things going bad. The firm told him to take time off. They said he could come back, but only after he did something about his problems. So he started seeing a shrink. You're not a shrink, are you?"



"No, but I know a few," Jarod smiled.



"Well, I don't think this guy helped him. I think he made him worse. He put him on some pills, right from his office, and they seemed to make him more nervous. That went on for a couple more weeks, just getting worse."



Mrs. Furmansky took up the story, "Then one day he came back from the doctor and he walked right past me in the yard, didn't say a word, like he never even saw me. That was not like him. That night we heard him moving furniture, throwing things and yelling. So I had John," she turned to her husband, "go up to check on him."



John filled in, "When I got up there he was acting real crazy. Like we said, he told us someone was out to get him. He was sure. He was searching the apartment looking for proof and packing a suitcase to get away. I thought he was going to hurt himself and I tried to calm him down. But he just got worse.



"Then he got mad at me. Told me to get away from him, 'Get out!' I tried. He kept pushing me. Just as I got to the top of his steps he pushed me again. I don't think he meant to hurt me but he nearly killed me. I'm sort of stiff in the joints and my balance isn't good. When he pushed me, I rolled right down the stairs. Broke my arm and my leg; knocked me right out. Scared the life out of Betty," he smiled at his wife.



Betty continued, "When I heard them coming out upstairs, I went to the door. I saw John rolling down the steps and I looked up at Eric. He looked mad for about a second. Then he changed, realized what he'd done. He came running down the steps after John.



"John hit the ground and didn't move. I thought he was dead; broke his neck. Eric ran down and checked him, then he sat down on the steps. He just looked at me. He was white as a ghost and, real quiet, he says to call 911. I asked him if John was alive. He nodded and just started crying. He cried and just kept saying he was sorry over and over. He sat there the whole time till the ambulance and police came. Never moved. I told the police to just leave him be.



"Just before they put John into the ambulance he opened his eyes. I was so relieved. The first thing John did was ask about Eric. The police were pretty good with Eric. They took him to the hospital, right behind John. They have a mental ward there. The next door neighbors, the Alisons, took me to the hospital, I was too upset to drive.



"At first I was so worried about John that I didn't think about Eric. The next morning they said John was going to be alright. Then I tried to see Eric but they wouldn't let me, some policy. I guess they do that all the time but I wanted to tell Eric that John was okay and we weren't mad. We loved him," tears came to Betty's eyes. Jarod felt her sadness. Eric had been loved.



Mr. Furmansky took his wife's hand and squeezed it. She continued, "A week later they let me talk to him on the phone for a few minutes. He sounded better, calmer, glad I called. But he couldn't come home till after a hearing.



"John came home about two weeks after that. He's done real well but he'll always need the cane.



"John was still in a wheelchair at the time of Eric's hearing. We told them Eric wasn't dangerous. The doctor from the hospital - the one he went to before - said he would be okay. The judge was going to release him on probation but Eric was afraid to come home with us. I'm not sure if he was afraid of the apartment or afraid that he might hurt us. He wouldn't say. Maybe he still thought someone was after him. Any way, the doctor suggested a short-term stay at Oakwood, kind of like a halfway house and Eric went there.



"We talked every day. He seemed much better and finally said he was ready to come home and start again. A release hearing was scheduled. Then he had his accident," she stopped.



Mr. Furmansky took over, "Eric was a jogger. One of those early morning people. Even when he was having problems he never missed a day. He was allowed to come and go from Oakwood as long as he checked in and out. That morning he went out as usual to jog around the big park about three blocks from here. He took a bus there at dawn. No one saw what happened next; no one knows what went wrong.'



"A paper boy saw Eric running away from the park toward the highway. He didn't see anyone chasing him, but Eric was running like someone was after him. No one knows why he went on the highway. He had to slip through a chain link fence. The trucker didn't see him until he stopped right in front of the truck. It was too late to stop.



"The thing that bothers us the most - and the trucker told the police this - is that Eric didn't try to get out of the way, like he wanted to die. Now it was still sort of dark so the trucker could have been mistaken. Oakwood was on the other side of the highway, he could have been trying to get back there. But…," he shrugged and looked down at his cup. "We thought he was better. The doctor at Oakwood said he still had - what was the word - delusions. I don't know," he shook his head.



Mrs. Furmansky looked at her husband then turned to Jarod with a quiet smile, "Would you like to see the apartment now?"



"Yes, if you don't mind. "Jarod answered, mentally reviewing the new information.



"Glad to," Betty took a set of keys out of the drawer and went up the steps. Jarod followed.



The apartment was clean and neat. Betty asked him to excuse the dust but Jarod saw none. Eric's personal belongings were boxed in a bedroom.



"This is all we had the heart to do," she said, indicating the boxes. "We thought about giving things to charity but we kept hoping someone would come for them," she smiled at Jarod.



"I'll help you dispose of them, in a way Eric would have wanted. It will take several trips to move everything," Jarod said, trying to judge how many. "I'll start today, if you like."



Mrs. Furmansky looked at Jarod, "Where are you staying?"



"At a motel."



"I didn't see a car."



"I took the bus, but I can get a taxi."



"That would be silly. You can go through the boxes right here."



Jarod was taken back, "Oh, no, thank you. I've been enough of a bother already."



"Nonsense. You go ahead and start if you want. I'll be right back."



Mrs. Furmansky left the apartment. Jarod opened the nearest box. He worried briefly that she had gone to call The Centre, then shook his head at his own suspicions. Jarod was barely half way through the box when Mrs. Furmansky returned.



"I spoke to John and we agree, you should stay here," she said firmly. It's no use moving the boxes, and a motel is a waste of money. We don't want rent. Just go through Eric's things and decide what's best to do with them."



"Are you sure?" Jarod was surprised and pleased. He wanted to stay but had not considered it possible. "I'll get my things from the motel and come right back."



Jarod hurried to the motel and picked up he belongings (he hadn't bothered to unpack) but he did not return to the Furmanskys' immediately Even though he could not detect The Centre's presence he was not about to take the DSAs with him. He almost reconsidered the move entirely, but he wanted to get as deeply into Eric's state of mind as he could. Besides. it would put him closer to the Alisons.



Jarod went to the main terminal for the local transit authority and an interstate bus line. He knew there would be long-tern storage lockers for rent there. After scouting the area he deposited the DSA case and his laptop. He pocketed the key until he could find a good hiding place away from the apartment. Now he could go back there and pretend he belonged.



Jarod spent the afternoon immersing himself in Eric's life. He emptied the boxes, looked carefully at each object, and placed it where he felt it belonged. He was so involved that he didn't hear Mrs. Furmansky call him for supper. She came up to the apartment after him. Jarod jumped back to reality when she gasped, "You made it exactly the way Eric had it. Even the suncatcher," she pointed to the crystal prisms Jarod had hung in the western window, "That was one of his favorite things, he liked simple things." She smiled, then clucked her tongue and shook her head, "Just like Eric. We had to remind him to eat too. You boys get so wrapped up in things you don't even sleep. Do you?"



Jarod looked sheepish and she laughed, "Come down now and get some supper before you forget." He followed obediently.



Supper was pot roast, traditional home cooking according to Jarod's readings. The Furmanskys enjoyed his capacity to consume food. Jarod enjoyed them.



After supper Jarod asked, "What do you do in the evening?"



"We go for a walk or sit on the porch," Betty answered. "Sometimes we go down to the park, if they're having something. Night after tomorrow the town band will be playing. They do that every third Wednesday, just a little local tradition."



John stood up and stretched. "Lets walk, Betty. Jarod, you're welcome to join us or you can just stay here and relax. It's too nice a night for you to go back upstairs right away." He grabbed his cane and went out the door.



Betty followed his lead. "I'll get the dishes when we come back. Don't bother with them and don't go right back to work. Relax for a while. She smiled at Jarod through the screen door.



Jarod sat at the table for a few minutes. These were incredibly trusting people. They had left him alone in their home, strictly on the belief that he was related to Eric. The first things he had told them were lies and they trusted him. Pretending suddenly left him with a bad feeling. Trust and honesty were foreign to him; it made him sad. It made him want to talk to Sydney.







Part Two





The door to Sydney's office was closed. It opened as Miss Parker reached for the knob. A man in his mid-fifties came through the door. He was neatly dressed but unimpressive, almost deliberately so. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown suit. He nodded at Parker, looking her over. He smiled at her pleasantly but she got the same creepy feeling she had when Mr. Raines looked at her. She hurried into Sydney's office.



"Hello, Miss Parker," Sydney said with a distracted smile.



"Hello, Sydney. Who was that?" Parker stayed by the door, hand on the knob, to prevent any unannounced entrance.



"Dr. Jonathan Abraham. I had sent him a message this morning, concerning his pretender recommendation in relation to Jarod. He came in person to speak to me." Sydney lifted an eyebrow.



"Is that usual?" She doubted it was.



"No, quite the opposite. I have never seen him before. I have read about him and his work. I have referred individuals to him for treatment, always through an intermediary in the Medical Department. Previous communication has been by report or memo. We have never even spoken on the phone." Sydney folded his arms and stared at the door.



Parker followed his look, "Just what did you put in your message?" She moved to a chair near Sydney's desk.



"Only that I have come to agree with his findings. I mentioned the changes in Jarod and offered to share his notebooks.



"Dr. Abraham wanted additional information about Jarod and our relationship. He compared Jarod to Eric Strand. They are of similar age and Eric was said to have superior ability. Dr. Abraham indicated that Jarod may be coming to a critical stage. I am not sure what he was looking for and I'm not sure if I gave it to him.



"By the way, he inquired about you."



Parker raised her eyebrows. "I think I'll have Broots check into Dr. Jonathan Abraham first thing tomorrow," she rose to leave. "Give him what you know."



Sydney nodded. He turned from the door, tapping his cheek, deep in thought.



***



Jarod decided speaking to Sydney could wait. He gathered the dishes and took them to the sink. Washing dishes, at least, was something concrete, a skill that Mrs. Furmansky would understand and appreciate.



A short time later Jarod stood looking at a sideboard full of clean dishes, pots and pans. He felt better. He decided to go outside and take a walk around the yard. Jarod walked down the driveway and around the front of the house. He started toward the back yard along the side nearest the Alisons.



Jarod not quite reached the back corner when he heard a low growl to his right. The Alisons had a three-foot chain link fence around their property with a low hedge to soften the effect. He bent over slightly. Under the bushes he saw the ominous stare of a large black dog. He also saw a small pair of tennis shoes attached to a small pair of legs. The newspapers and scandal sheets were full of stories about dogs attacking children. Rottweilers had a vicious reputation and this dog was one. Jarod had little experience with dogs but he knew he had to save that child. He stood up, the dog moved forward, stepping on still little leg.



The child screamed, "Oww! Mina!"



The dog lunged at the fence, planting her front feet on the top, snarling at Jarod, muscles rippling. Jarod expected her to leap the fence and rip out his throat with what were obviously well equipped jaws. He jerked back. The boy was alive. Now what should he do?



The boy jumped to his feet and punched the dog ineffectually on her hip. "Mina, you stepped on me! You hurt my leg!"



Mina, the dog, stopped growling and turned to regard the child. Then she returned her full attention to Jarod. The intensity of her stare was somehow familiar, but he couldn't place it.



Just then an older boy came running around the side of the Alison's house. "What's wrong?!"



The smaller boy whined, Mina stepped on me."



"Mina, get down!" the older boy yelled, and the dog obeyed.



He examined the younger boy's leg. "She didn't mean it. It's nothing, Todd." He rubbed the younger boy's head then turned to Jarod. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"



Jarod closed his mouth, it had been hanging open, and swallowed. "My name is Jarod. I'm staying in the Furmansky's apartment for a few days.Is this your dog? She's big," was all he could think to say.



The boy eyed Jarod suspiciously, as did the dog. He shrugged, "My name is Chad, this is Todd, and Mina. "He pointed to himself, his brother and the dog in turn.



"She listens to you very well."



Chad smiled down at Mina and rubbed behind her ears. "She's a very good girl." Mina's stub of a tail wagged wildly. "She listens to me real good."



"She listens to me too," Todd piped in.



"Not like me." The boys were squaring off for an argument.



Jarod interrupted, "I'm sorry I upset Mina. I saw your brother's legs through the bushes and I thought he was hurt."



Chad sighed, "In the summer he never wants to go in the house. He'd sleep outside if Mom would let him. Mina won't let anything happen to him." Chad looked down at Todd.



Todd stuck out his chin, "I was just resting. It's hot." He hugged Mina around her neck, his arms barely reached. She leaned into him slightly.



Chad was not impressed, "You both better get in the house. Mom said one of you needs a bath and it's not Mina." Todd tugged Mina toward the back door.



Chad turned back to Jarod. "I'm sorry that Mina scared you. She probably wouldn't hurt you but you were close to Todd. She won't let you touch him if she doesn't know you."



Jarod was not especially secure with the 'probably.' "Did you name her and train her?"



"No, Dad trained her. And Mom named her. It's from a book, 'Dracula', you know. She's like the 'good guy' and Dracula tries to make her a vampire." Chad did a vampire imitation, showing his teeth and making his hands into claws.



"Vampires? Dracula? Like Halloween?" Jarod was familiar with part of the concept.



"Yeah, I guess. I haven't read the book yet, but I saw a couple of old movies. The best one was 'Dracula Meets Billy The Kid.' That was weird!"



Jarod was intrigued, "I haven't read the book either. And you say there are several movies?"



"Yeah, some of them my Mom won't let me see yet. She says they're too adult. Whatever," Chad shrugged.



Carl Alison came around the corner of his house, Mina close behind. "Chad, is everything alright?" He gave Jarod a once-over.



"Sure, Dad. Mina was just pretending to be a guard dog."



Jarod held out his hand, careful to keep it on his side of the fence. If you'll excuse my saying so, Mr.…"



"Alison, Carl Alison." Carl watched Jarod's face for recognition.



"...Mr. Alison, Mina does a very good job of being a guard dog." Carl shook Jarod's hand.



"Yes, I guess she does." Carl scratched Mina's neck and head, "but that's not why we love her.'



"My sister owns her father and we fell in love with him. So when Mina came along we got her. Mina's mother and father are both show champions. She's a pet and a member of the family."



Charles looked toward Eric's apartment, "Are you the man I saw moving around up there earlier?"



"Yes, I'm there to sift through Eric's things and sort through the details surrounding his death."



"You're related?"



"Part of his extended family," Jarod answered. It was close to the truth.



Mr. Alison patted Chad on the shoulder. "Why don't you go inside now. I want to talk to Mr. Harker." Chad obeyed. He waved to Jarod as he went around the corner.



Carl watched him go before turning to Jarod, "You're not a reporter are you?"



"No, what I do I do for myself. My name is Jarod Harker,"



Carl studied Jarod briefly. He shrugged, "My story isn't big enough to go to this much trouble." Jarod gave him a quizzical look. "It's a long story; and not important right now.



"I assume the Furmanskys told you what they know?" Jarod nodded. "I'm not sure how much I can add. I knew Eric mostly because he lived next door. He was a nice guy; very smart. He would do anything for John and Betty. I never thought he had a mean bone in his body." He turned to wave to the Furmanskys as they returned from their walk. "Those are good people." He looked Jarod in the eye. "I would not want to see them hurt."



"Neither would I," Jarod agreed. "Eric seemed happy here"



"I think he was. That's what makes the things that happened so hard to understand." Carl shook his head. It's hard to believe Eric got into a fight, let alone that he hurt John."



Mrs. Furmansky put her head out of the kitchen window. "Thank you for doing the dishes, Jarod, but I told you to let them be," she smiled. "Would you gentlemen like some iced tea?"



"Thank you, Betty. We'll be over in a minute." Carl called back. He whispered to Jarod, "It's best to give in now and take the tea. Next she'll go to cookies, then sandwiches. She's got a reputation to maintain."



"Reputation?"



"Yes. No one leaves Betty's kitchen hungry."



"They invited me to have supper with them every night."



"I hope you have a big appetite and a sweet tooth. She also likes to bake." Jarod grinned; Carl laughed.



"Seriously, if you're interested I have some information about Eric's hospitalization. I'll get it, you get the tea, and we'll meet in the apartment."



Jarod agreed. Carl went to his house. Mina continued to watch Jarod (where had he seen that look?) until he rounded the corner to the Furmansky kitchen. There was a tray on the table with a pitcher of iced tea, glasses and sugar cookies. Jarod thanked Betty and took the tray upstairs.



A few minutes later Carl joined Jarod in the apartment kitchen. "Were you telling the truth about being related to Eric and not being a reporter?



"I'm not a reporter. I am here to investigate Eric's death." Jarod paused, "I would also like to look into the charges that were filed against you."



Carl sat down. "So you did recognize my name. Or was it the pictures of my family plastered all over the papers?" He sounded bitter.



"I read the story in the paper. Now I want to hear it from you. Maybe I can help."



Carl seemed resigned, "I don't see how you can hurt. My lawyer advised me to plea bargain for a lesser sentence, six months to two years, for a crime I didn't commit." He shook his head. "I don't think he even believes me." He sighed.



"Why were you the one charged?"



"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, asking the wrong questions." Carl handed Jarod a manila folder. It was stuffed with hospital forms.



"This is Eric Strand's hospital chart. There's a computerized version but this is the handwritten nitty-gritty one."



"How did you get this?" Jarod was surprised.



"The hospital keeps everything for a period of time. No one ever looks at it after it's on the computer. I misplaced it to my house right after Eric died. I wanted to know the truth.



"His diagnostic work, psychiatric and medical, shows acute anxiety and depression. Nothing to explain either attack or what happened after he was released."



Carl handed a second folder to Jarod. "This is from Oakwood. It has copies of notes from his psychiatrist. A friend got them for me. I don't think any one knows I have the copies. But someone knows or suspects I have the chart.'



"When the police searched my house, looking for drugs they never found, they went through every envelope and piece of paper they could find. They said they were looking for bank statements but I'm sure they wanted those files."



Jarod was thoughtful as he thumbed through Eric's chart. "Who didn't want you looking into these?" Jarod asked, indicating the files.



"My best guess? The hospital administration or the psychiatrist who treated Eric before and after he was hospitalized."



"He had a different doctor in the hospital?"



"It's all one big practice associated with the hospital, Sherdon Psychological Associates. Eric was originally seen by Dr. Richardson, founder of the practice and Oakwood; a very good psychologist. At that same time a new hotshot psychiatrist joined the practice, Dr. Jonathan Abraham. The next week Dr. Richardson took sick suddenly and turned all his cases over to Dr. Abraham, Eric's included. That's when Eric started to withdraw from his friends and life.



"When Eric was admitted to the hospital he was pretty hysterical. He refused to let Dr. Abraham near him. The hospital agreed to his wishes. When he transferred to Oakwood Dr. Abraham began treating him again. His condition improved at the Medical Center and Oakwood. But nothing and no one ever explained why he was violent in the first place.



"All the evaluations and care givers at both places felt Eric was not a danger to himself or anyone else at the time of his death. But, he died...



"The only person, and I do mean only person, who said differently in their notes was Dr. Abraham.



"The day after Eric died I started asking discreet questions. I took the chart and asked a friend for the Oakwood notes. My boss told me to stop because Dr. Abraham felt I was embarrassing him and the Medical Center. I asked Dr. Abraham about the case a week after Eric died. He gave me some vague answer. Three days later I was arrested. Four weeks after that Dr. Abraham moved out of town."



"Can I keep Eric's files overnight?" Jarod asked. Carl nodded. Jarod laid the file on the table. "You don't know how much you've helped me. How did you hide them in the first place?"



"With Mina's help," Carl smiled. "The roof of her dog house can be taken off to clean the house. You can just slip a folder between the inner and outer roof if you turn it upside down." Carl laughed, "Who would want to search a doghouse with an upset rottweiler in it?" Jarod also laughed.



Carl continued "I waited months before I retrieved the files. I've looked at them over and over. I can't find an answer. If there is one, Dr. Abraham is the only one who knows it."



"Do you think any drugs were actually stolen?"



"Oh, drugs were stolen, in small amounts, over a two year period. The pharmacy is computerized. You'd think they could track every pill but someone figured a way to get past the system."



"Do you know who took the drugs?"



"No. They're a lot smarter than me. But, that's obvious, I'm the one who's going to jail."



Jarod was familiar with manipulating computer records. He also knew how to follow the minuscule clues every programmer left behind if they were not extremely careful.



"The trail led directly to you?"



"Like a highway. If I was as stupid as they made me look, how was I smart enough to beat the system for two years?"



Jarod nodded, "I'll check into the records. I think someone missed a sign along that hughway leading to you."



Carl was silent for several minutes while he finished his iced tea. He cleared his throat, "Jarod, there's something else you should know. There's a reason the cops find it easy to believe I'm guilty. This isn't the first time I've been charged with drug possession.



"I started drinking at thirteen. By the time I turned sixteen I was using cocaine. The police caught me at a drug buy. They charged me as a juvenile and I had to join AA. Because I stayed clean and sober my records were sealed.



"I'm still clean." Carl's voice took on a desperate note, "I love my family too much to risk using drugs, or stealing them. You have to believe me"



Jarod did believe him and told him so. Carl shook Jarod's hand and left. Jarod picked up Eric's chart and began to read.



***



Broots handed printouts of his findings on Dr. Abraham to Miss Parker. "I've verified that Dr. Abraham is a real person," he said.



"Of course he's real, Dufus, I saw him," Miss Parker interrupted as she scanned the information.



"I mean," he replied patiently, "that the name and credentials are authentic, not a Centre fabrication. I found a good bit of background

information, all genuine. I checked and cross-checked. There are a few things you'll be interested in, that weren't in any Centre file.



"Just before he came to The Centre, twelve years ago, he was arrested for falsifying prescriptions. Mostly pain killers and psychotropic drugs. He was later charged with possession with intent to sell, of LSD and designer drugs. It seems that Dr. Abraham got a PhD in chemistry before he went to medical school.



"The police were about to charge him with manufacturing drugs when all charges were dropped. The evidence disappeared.



"The next week he came to work at The Centre."



Parker asked, "Who hired Dr. Abraham?"



"He was recommended by Mr. Raines, interviewed by Mr. Parker and approved by The Board," Broots answered. "Mr. Raines oriented him personally before he was given complete autonomy and a relatively unlimited research budget. He's been here ever since except for a sabbatical leave a year ago.



"He is not officially involved in any pretender projects but he's authorized to access their files."



Parker looked up at Broots, "Exactly what kind of research is Dr. Jekyll doing?"



"He's had several papers published in medical journals; mostly therapy for psychological disorders. Some work on learning disabilities, and enhancement. He's done follow-up studies and consulting for a couple of pharmaceutical companies including Central Pharmaceutical Research Corporation, a subsidiary of a subsidiary of The Centre.



"From the information I can access it looks like he does more pharmaceutical research than psychiatry."



Sydney walked into Parker's office. Broots handed him a copy of the printouts. Parker mumbled, "Just another Centre multi-skilled worker," then said aloud, "What's he up to now?"



"I'm working on that. He keeps his research secret until he publishes."



"Work harder. And while you're at it find out what he did last summer."







Part Three





Jarod spent the rest of the evening reading Eric's charts. He then accessed the Sherdon Medical Center personnel files. The computerized version of information on Dr. Jonathan Abraham included excellent credentials and glowing recommendations. It listed his mailing address as a post office box in Dover, Delaware. Small world, small state, and a bit too close to "home." Jarod accessed The Centre's personnel files and found what he expected. Dr. Abraham was a Centre employee with an unbroken term of service, including the period he worked for Sherdon Psychological Associates.



Jarod's eyes narrowed. The heat of anger spread through his chest and shoulders, tears formed at the corners of his eyes. He felt a terrible certainty of what had happened to Eric Strand. He looked down at his hands, they were clenched into fists. The Centre would not allow anyone it touched to survive apart. Not now not ever. Jarod took a deep breath and forced down his anger. He knew how to find Dr. Abraham. He would get answers.



At two a.m. Jarod quietly slipped down the front porch steps and over the fence to the Alison's yard. Mina was in the house. He could see her watching him from an upstairs window. Jarod returned Eric's files to the hidden compartment in Mina's doghouse. He took the key for the bus station locker out of his pocket and wedged it into a corner of the roof. He left two sugar cookies for Mina.



Jarod jumped the fence back into the Furmanskys 'yard. As his feet hit the ground, he felt something whiz past his face. His head snapped around, searching for motion. Then he heard a high-pitched squeak. Against the street light he could see three small shadows diving after smaller shadows. Bats, the size of mice, chasing moths. Jarod stood and watched for several minutes. The moth population was rapidly depleted. He would have to tell the boys in the morning. Chad would enjoy knowing there were "vampires" in the back yard.



Jarod lay down fully dressed and forced his body to rest for a few hours. His mind kept moving. He needed a way into the hospital and was considering computer programmer versus physician. He rose when the morning paper hit the porch.



Jarod was almost to the bottom step when Mr. Furmansky opened the front door. "Good morning, Jarod. Coming

down for breakfast?"



"I just wanted to scan the news before I went out this morning. I didn't mean to disturb you."



"Come in. The coffee's just finishing. Eggs are on and Betty would kill me if she found out I didn't drag you in."



Jarod picked up the paper and trailed John through the house to the kitchen. Betty had a cup of coffee waiting on

the table. John told him he could have the paper first.



The back page headline caught Jarod's attention, "Invasion of the Bats." The following article was less exaggerated. A colony of Indiana bats - Myotis sodalis - had been displaced be the recent removal of approximately fifty acres of old timber at a nearby river. The bats had relocated to trees and houses in and around Sherdon. These bats were an endangered species, and exterminators were prevented by law from killing them. An animal control expert had come to town to assist in removal.



The bats had to be physically removed or repelled from their current roosts. When it was certain all were gone, access points had to be sealed. Because of the bat's small size, the sealing job had to be thorough.



The most interesting point of the article was that several bats had taken up residence in the thirteenth floor, the attic, of the medical center's Main Building. It was the oldest building and housed the laboratory, pharmacy and medical records.



Jarod revised his simulation. Nothing was less noticable than a man in work clothes. He excused himself after breakfast and went directly to Eric's computer.



Once in the hospital's computer system Jarod quickly found and intercepted the emergency work order for bat removal. He replied that he would arrive at one p.m. He guaranteed removal with an offer to inspect all contiguous buildings of the hospital. Then he called Dr. Richardson's office and asked for a brief appointment. Jarod was penciled into a cancellation space at 11:30 a.m. He spent part of the morning manufacturing appropriate paperwork and ID badges. The remainder he used to absorb everything available on bats and their removal.



At 11:00 Jarod dressed in a navy sport jacket, white shirt, camel slacks and tie, not obtrusive or intimidating. Then he caught a bus for the fifteen-minute ride to the front door of Sherdon Area Medical Center.



Jarod stood facing the Medical Center. At the left stood the Patient Care Wing, built three years ago. That building housed state-of-the-art trauma facility, intensive care unit, surgical suite, and patient rooms. It was topped with a helipad. The building to his right, the Medical Arts Wing, housed computers, administration, and physician offices. It had been built in the mid-seventies. Sherdon Psychological Associates, on the third floor, was Jarod's destination.



As Jarod exited the elevator on three, he brushed shoulders with a tense looking man wearing a lab coat. Glancing at the man's name-tag, Jarod noted that he was a pharmacist. The man walked with difficulty and depended on a cane. He did not respond to Jarod's apology.



Jarod went to the reception desk and gave his name. The receptionist directed him to Dr. Richardson's office and told him the doctor was waiting. The door was open. Jarod introduced himself and explained why he had come.



Dr. Richardson shook Jarod's hand and asked him to have a seat. The doctor was in his early sixties, slightly overweight, dignified, with a pleasant smile, and laugh lines around his eyes. "When the receptionist told me who you were I reviewed Eric's case file. I only saw Eric three times, when he first began treatment. Shortly after I became ill and his treatment was taken over by Dr. Abraham.



"I'm not permitted to give you any particulars of course, legalities are involved, but at the time I treated Eric his problem was not severe. He was slightly depressed and described an episode of uncontrolled rage. He did not want that to happen again. I prescribed behavior modification classes at Oakwood. It is an excellent facility, with group sessions for everything from alcoholism to zoophobia."



Jarod nodded, "I've read the literature. It is well respected. I was told Eric was arrested after a fight. I also know he hired the man he fought to find his birth parents. Did he say what the argument was about?"



"There was a police report. It lists the private detective's name as Steven Fox, from New York City. He led Eric to believe he had a great deal of information, gave him a little, then told him to forget the whole idea." Dr. Richardson glanced at the file, "Fox appeared at Eric's office on the day they argued, demanding more money for more information. Eric agreed. Money changed hands but not information. Eric said the PI had lied and then threatened him, but he could not remember details or why he lost his temper."



"I would like to speak to the doctor who took over Eric's treatment. Dr. Abraham?"



"I'm afraid that's not possible. Dr. Abraham left town a short time after Eric's death. Eric's records were reviewed by police psychologists. You would need a court order to see them, I believe.



"I don't imagine you'll find the answers you want there either. Eric's death is a tragedy. He was a bright young man. I prefer to think his death was an accident. However, considering his behavior just before hospitalization there is a chance he chose, even briefly, to end his life. I am sorry."



Jarod thanked the doctor. "Can you tell me anything about Dr. Abraham?"



"He has excellent credentials, is a well respected psychiatrist, but I was not sorry to see him leave the practice. He treated us like small town 'hicks', which we may be, but I felt his treatment plans were far too dependent on drug therapy. The old psychologist/psychiatrist argument. I'm not sure what he expected but he was not happy here. He accepted a position at a larger facility on the east coast, a better offer I assume."



Jarod exchanged a few pleasantries with Dr. Richardson and left. In the elevator he clipped on a nametag that had



"Jarod Harker, Pest Control," printed below the emblem for Allied Medical Centers, parent corporation of Sherdon Area M.C.



The Environmental Control Office was in the Main Building. Jarod was warmly greeted by the maintenance supervisor and assured him that the bats would be gone within three days. He was given a brief tour of the area then taken back to the Main Building.



A key was required to access the thirteenth floor via the elevator. The "attic" housed air conditioning units and storage. It was partitioned with two by fours and wire mesh, and open above to the roof beams. Incandescent light fixtures hung from the beams. So did at least seven bats.



Jarod walked the perimeter, pointing out spots that allowed the bats to enter. He gave the manager a list of supplies needed to evict the bats and seal the spaces. Cleanup would be relatively simple because of the bats' brief residence. Jarod told the maintenance manager he needed the supplies gathered by late evening, he was given an elevator key, and left.



Before returning to the Furmanskys, Jarod went to the downtown shopping center. His first stop was a uniform store for overalls and work shoes.



The next stops were a book store, for a copy of "Dracula," and a national chain video store. He left there with videos of "Nosferatu", "Dracula" with Bela Lugosi, "Bram Stoker's Dracula" and "Billy the Kid Versus Dracula."



Two doors further there was a shop named "Horrors to You". Jarod wondered about the name but liked the shop. It sold Halloween costumes and masks, plus novelties from wax vampire teeth to plastic dog poo, magic hats to rubber bats. Although he bought nothing he left with many ideas.



Next door was a pet store. Jarod purchased a dog-training whistle and chocolate flavored tennis balls. His last stop, just before catching the bus homeward, was for Pez.



On his way between the bus stop and the apartment Jarod stopped to talk to the animal control technician who was getting ready to flush several bats from a house. Jarod watched and asked a few questions. He confirmed his Internet reading and plans.



After another pleasant supper with the Furmanskys Jarod put on the grey overalls and work shoes, packed a few necessities in a small bag and caught the bus back to the medical center.



The next several hours were spent irritating the bats with the high-frequency dog whistle until they took flight. While waiting for the bats to exit Jarod read "Dracula." After they left the attic Jarod used tar paper, caulk, and duct tape to temporarily seal the openings. Then he spread naphthalene crystals around the edge of the floor. He rechecked the attic thoroughly to be sure no bats were trapped and no bats could return.



When that job was done Jarod picked up the cylinder of insecticide he had requested and started his inspection of the complex. The Main Building was sparsely populated at midnight and occupied rooms emptied after Jarod sprayed a small amount of noxious chemical from the canister around the baseboards.



First, Jarod visited the Pathology Department. They were gone for the night so he let himself in. He pulled Eric's autopsy report. It contained no unusual findings. Eric had died instantly from blunt force injuries. The toxicology report was negative except for a therapeutic level of prescribed antidepressant. No answers.



The pharmacy was not empty but a pharmacy assistant let Jarod into the offices after being shown a work order. Jarod hacked into the pharmacy computer system. The program used to manipulate inventory data was possibly the best of its kind and extremely difficult to follow but Jarod found an access code tied to the data changes. After many twists, backtracks and false turns, the trace led to a workstation in an adjoining office. The perpetrator had made the simple mistake of using the same computer every time. The office belonged to Gregory Horner, Pharm.D., Director of Pharmacy, as did the password.



Jarod sprayed pesticide in the corners while he downloaded the incriminating data to diskettes, information that exonerated Carl Alison. Jarod went to Dr. Horner's desk and found his ID tag in a drawer. On the tag was a picture of the tense man from the elevator at Sherdon Psychological Associates.



When he finished inspecting the Main Building Jarod moved to the Medical Arts Wing. All the offices were empty except for a few people cleaning. Jarod quickly made his way to Dr. Richardson's office. He accessed Gregory Horner's treatment and personnel files. Dr. Horner had been employed at the Medical Center for two years and visiting the practice for the same amount of time.



Gregory Horner graduated from college with a PhD in Pharmacy ten years ago. His first employer was a hospital in Delaware. The resume briefly mentioned an accident and a long rehabilitation period, followed by a return to work, a sudden leave-of-absence, and termination with no reason. After that he worked for a computer software company, developing a hospital Pharmacy program. Dr. Horner's next employer was Central Pharmaceutical Research Corporation. A small private drug company, also in Delaware. He worked there until coming to Sherdon. He was recruited by the Medical Center to install and manage the computer system he helped develop.



Dr. Horner's treatment file contained a complete description of his accident. The chart described Gregory as athletic and active, favoring hiking and rock climbing. At that time he had only one secret, he was claustrophobic. He kept it under control, avoiding elevators and tight places. Toughing it out when necessary, smiling on the outside. It had worked for years.



One autumn weekend, four years after graduation, he went hiking with a group of five friends. They made camp late in the afternoon and three of them started climbing around on a small rock face nearby. They found a cave and called to the others to bring flashlights. Two of the group were too interested in each other to respond, so Gregory rappelled to the small ledge outside the cave. The three started in, expecting Gregory to follow. But the cave was too small for him to tolerate. He was caught between wanting to be anywhere else and his friends calling him into the dark. Someone called him "chicken" and his pride forced him to start into the cave.



At that moment the cave explorers disturbed the bats that were sleeping there. Amid much chirping and screeching, the bats made for the exit, over and around Gregory. Bats flapping in his face caused Gregory to straighten up in surprise. He hit his head on the lip of the cave, destroying all sense of balance or orientation. He stumbled back, and fell eighteen feet to the ground below. His friends rushed down to find his left leg and hip shattered. He was in excruciating pain. The couple raced down the mountain for help while the others stabilized him as well as they could.



By the time the paramedics arrived he had screamed himself unconscious from pain and fear. He was in severe shock from back and internal injuries, and coded twice before they got him to a trauma unit.



Weeks of intensive care and months of rehabilitation could not completely repair the physical damage. The accident exacerbated his claustophobia and added fear of heights and the dark.



Two years ago he sought help for the polyphobias that limited his life and had made progress. During his last visit Gregory mentioned difficulty dealing with bats in the building. It caused him to have nightmares about his accident. Dr. Richardson used hypnosis to relax him and control the flashbacks.



In the process Gregory admitted misuse of pain-killers. Because of Gregory's continuing anger over his disability, Dr. Richardson wanted to deal with the subject very carefully. Doctor-patient privilege prevented him from reporting the addiction as long as no patients were endangered. Jarod wondered if Carl counted. Dr. Richardson might not make that connection and Gregory's admission had only come yesterday.



Jarod closed the files, left the office, and returned to Environmental Control. It was six a.m. and Jarod left a message for the manager saying he would return in the evening to complete his inspection. The maintenance staff could permanently seal the attic the next day.



Jarod returned the pesticide canister to the attic, took his bag and caught the bus back to the Furmanskys' house for breakfast.



After breakfast Jarod put "Nosferatu" into the VCR and looked through Eric's address book for Steven Fox's address and phone number. The address was a PO box; the phone was disconnected.



Jarod set "Nosferatu" aside and started "Dracula." An Internet address and phone search came up with no private detectives in New York, or the surrounding area, named Steven Fox. The P.O. box had a new owner; Jarod recognized the name of a Centre associate. A private detective named Steven Fox would never be found, the odds were that he never existed.



The owner of the P.O. box had worked for The Centre's corporate office. Jarod was never introduced but he made a hobby of reading nametags then memorizing that person's employee record. He accessed current Centre files. The man left The Centre to work for Central Pharmaceutical Research Corporation, the company that had employed Gregory Horner. Jarod ran through the corporation's files in seconds. He spent the next hour and a half researching and verifying CPRC's intimate association with The Centre .



Jarod was tired. He started "Bram Stoker's Dracula" and lay down on the couch. He fell immediately asleep but did not sleep long or well. His dream was full of dark shadows, desolate landscapes, bats, and Mr. Raines with gore dripping from long sharp teeth. Jarod jerked into a sitting position. He woke with the image of Miss Parker bent over him, ready to sink two lovely, pointed fangs into his throat. He chuckled at himself and headed for the shower.



Still tired but refreshed, Jarod went downtown for a little more shopping. "Horrors To You" had the props and audio tapes Jarod needed for atmosphere. A Radio Shack had sound system wiring and light-activated switches. A hardware store provided electric supplies, tools and a flashlight.



Mrs. Furmansky caught Jarod as he passed the kitchen door and invited him to join her for lunch. She and Jarod discussed the division of Eric's belongings over sandwiches. Eric's will had left them everything. They already took the few personal items and photographs that held special meaning for them. Jarod could divide the remainder as he saw fit. He looked at Eric's life in pictures while Betty made coffee. To him these moments frozen on paper seemed far more precious than his entire collection of DSAs.



Back in Eric's apartment, Jarod watched "Bram Stoker's Dracula" while he cut, spliced and wired switches. He used the tapes from the Halloween shop to make one of his own. He inserted a little time-delayed program into the hospital-pharmacy interface of the Medical Center; an attention grabber but not too damaging or permanent.



Billy the Kid met Dracula while Jarod packed Eric's clothes and smaller possessions into boxes labeled for charities or friends.



Mrs. Furmansky had suggested he take a few things. For himself, Jarod chose a pocket photo album with "Mom's Brag Book" on the front cover. It held pictures of Eric, with and without his parents, as a boy. Jarod made a second choice, he wrapped it in tissue, packaged it carefully, addressed it and put it aside.



Jarod made sure everything was packed and ready for the night then rested until Mrs. Furmansky called him to supper. During the meal the Furmanskys reminded him about the concert at the park. He agreed to go with them.



After supper, Jarod retrieved the chocolate flavored tennis balls and went to visit the Alisons in their yard. The balls got Mina's full attention; she barely noticed Jarod. Chad advised him to give her one before she took it. Fearing for his fingers, Jarod threw a ball. She caught it mid-air, returned it to him and waited expectantly.



"Will she let me take it?" he asked.



"As long as you throw it again," Chad said.



Jarod took the lightly slobbered ball and raised it above his head. Mina bounced on her toes, staring at the ball. Jarod hesitated. Chad laughed, "Just throw it!"



Jarod threw the ball toward the far end of the yard. Mina caught it on the first bounce. They repeated the process three times before Carl and his wife walked over.



"Making friends?" Carl asked Mina and Jarod.



"I think we are," Jarod was pleased with his success.



Jarod gave Chad the rest of the balls. "Would you mind if I spoke to your parents for a minute?"



"No, sure. Come on, Mina, you look like you need some water." Mina and the boys walked toward the house.



Carl put his arm around his wife's shoulder, "This is Teresa. Teri, Jarod"



Teri took Jarod's hand. "Pleased to meet you. Carl told me about you. Have you found any new information about Eric?"



"No more than I suspected before I came," a trace of harshness in his voice. "I've had better luck with my drug theft inquiry. I should have those answers tomorrow. I know who to ask about both."



Teri burst into tears and hugged Carl. He held her for a moment, then she hurried away to the house. Carl sighed, "She's had all she can take. We all have. Are you sure you're telling us the truth?"



"I never lie about the truth," Jarod answered seriously.



Carl nodded, then smiled and changed the subject. "Will you be going to the park tonight? We were just about to walk over. Everyone goes, even Mina."



"John and Betty already asked me." Jarod returned the smile. The Furmanskys stepped off their front porch, carrying folding chairs. They called to him and he excused himself to join them. Carl promised to follow with his clan.



The park took up the space of four city blocks and adjoined one of Sherdon's three elementary schools. Nearest the school was a fenced playground with a big sandbox and superior equipment. The ground sloped down toward a large gazebo and sports field. The remainder of the park was well kept lawn, shrubs, trees and walkways. A jogging track circled the perimeter.



The Town Band was setting up in the gazebo. The hillside was filled with neighbors. Most sat on blankets or the grass, others had stools. Jarod set up the Furmanskys' chairs on a flat area near the gazebo then moved to the top of the hill. He enjoyed the crowd but he wanted a clear vantage-point, just in case.



The Alisons chose a spot near the top of the rise; the boys soon brought Mina to sit with Jarod. Mina flopped down, practically on top of him. Todd assured Jarod that it meant she liked him. When she shoved her head into his lap he decided it was true. He rubbed her head and ears while she groaned contentedly.



The music, a mixture of popular and patriotic, started at seven p.m. The crowd listened politely and applauded after each song. The boys sat for the first half-hour then joined their friends at the swings. Carl and Teri noted their going but were unconcerned, the playground was a magnet for all the children. Mina lifted her head to check the boys' destination then dropped it back onto Jarod's lap with a jolt that made him grunt. He wondered if she would allow him to move if he tried.



The concert lasted slightly over an hour and no one hurried to leave. They stayed, talking and laughing while the children played in the slowly fading light. Jarod looked up at the street lamps, then called the boys over to point out the tiny bats circling the lights. Chad was fascinated, Todd was less thrilled. Jarod stood aside while Teri reassured Todd. Carl explained that the bats were beneficial and not vampires.



Shortly before nine, couples and family groups split off and left. Jarod said goodnight to the Alisons, and watched them walk off, Carl's arm around Teri's shoulders. He carried the Furmanskys' chairs back to their home while they walked hand in hand. Then he grabbed his duffel bag and caught the bus to the Medical Center.







Part Four





Broots picked up his small gym bag as he prepared to go home. It was nine p.m.; he was weary, and glad he had allowed Debbie to stay with one of her friends. These late nights at The Centre did not agree well with family life. It was his job to track Jarod but it kept him away from Debbie far too often, and four hours late tonight. He did not want others raising his daughter. Once in a while he wished they would actually catch Jarod so that he could get a life. Be careful what you wish for, he thought.



While researching Dr. Abraham, Broots had scanned the Pretender Files. He decided to track all other accesses, they might lead to someone with information on the psychiatrist. The files were accessed frequently but Broots found no interesting leads. He was almost done when he came across a recent inquiry so brief it was barely detectable. He could not track it beyond the fact that it had an outside source. The file was tagged as closed/deceased and belonged to Eric Strand. Broots knew his biggest mistake was telling Miss Parker.



She pounced. "Who, when from where? Could it be Jarod?"



"It may have been. I can't be sure. I tried ten different traces, but no luck."



Miss Parker gave him a freezing look, the one that always made him stutter. "That's why I think it's Jarod."



"Do you think, occasionally, you could come to me with an actual answer?" she pointed him to the door. "I expect something better by tomorrow."



Broots went directly back to his work area and spent the next several hours on Dr. Abraham and his projects. The most promising lead was Central Pharmaceutical Research Corporation. Despite the name and mission statement, CPRC did not market any products to the public. Any medications developed were sold to other drug companies or designated for Centre use.



Dr. Abraham's name was on CPRC's consultant list. From what Broots could find he was their main consultant and was also, unofficially, their research chemist. The majority of his work was too complex for Broots to understand and some was too classified for him to access. Some work that Broots could understand, he did not like. The doctor was preoccupied with the chemistry of emotion and its manipulation. Some of the research drugs proved destructive and were supposedly abandoned. There was a correlation between each product withdrawal and the inception of an extremely classified project. Broots was pretty sure he did not want to know the results of those projects.



Until two years ago Dr. Abraham had worked closely with a pharmacist, Gregory Horner Pharm.D. Dr. Horner had left CPRC for a position in an Ohio hospital. He was retained to set up a pharmacy computer system and manage pharmacy operations. Dr. Abraham's sabbatical, which Miss Parker had questioned, was used to visit Dr. Horner and accept a position at the same hospital. It was highly unlikely that Dr. Abraham would leave his work at CPRC, it was close to impossible that The Centre would allow him to go.



The name of the town put a lump in Broots throat: Sherdon, Ohio, Eric Strand's hometown. Broots wanted to talk to Sydney first thing in the morning. Right now all he wanted was to get home.



Broots almost made it. Mr. Raines and a sweeper intercepted him at the door. Mr. Raines rasped, "Working late? I know Miss Parker gave you a project. Do you have something to report?"



"No... I mean 'yes'...I mean I think Jarod accessed Centre files and I was trying to trace it." Broots looked at his shoes, "I haven't had much luck."



"What files?" Raines wheezed, leaning forward.



"One of the Pretender files, Eric, Eric Strand."



"Any others? Any damage?"



"Not that I could find."



"Fortunate," Raines nodded. "What do you know about Central Pharmaceutical Research Corporation?" he watched Broots intently.



Broots paused, trying to think, "Just that it exists. They've done some work for The Centre."



"CPRC is allied with The Centre, and someone accessed their files."



"When?" Broots could hear his heart pounding. He wondered if Raines knew it was him, "What files?"



"This morning," Raines grated, "highly classified files. I want to know if Jarod did it. And I want to know where he is"



Broots was relieved; Raines was not accusing him. "I'll start first thing in the morning."



"You'll start now. I expect answers by tomorrow." Raines turned and walked slowly away.



"I meant I'll start now," Broots said to himself. He went to the vending machines for a large coffee and a couple of candy bars. Then returned to his computer, for the night.



*****



Miss Parker shook Broots awake. "Just what did you tell Raines?!" She continued to shake him while he tried to clear his thoughts. "Did you find Jarod?!"



Broots dragged himself out of dreamland. He glanced at the clock; it was one a.m. What was Miss Parker doing here, in a suit and heels, at this ungodly hour? "I don't know what you mean," he mumbled. "Mr. Raines told me to trace a CPRC hack-in." Broots scoured his memory, "Why?"



"I got a phone call from a 'friend' at midnight. Raines took the company jet somewhere. I need to know where and why."



"Maybe it was personal business."



"Right, he decided to take a vacation...with six sweepers."



"Six sweepers? Broots whistled softly, "Wow." He put his hand to his forehead, "Give me a minute. Let me see where he's headed." Broots checked the flight plan for Raines' trip. "He flew to Pittsburgh. That's an international airport he could have caught another plane anywhere."



"Could Jarod be in Pittsburgh? He's been there before."



"I don't know," Broots paused. "But he could be within driving distance, I'm checking car rentals. Yes, two cars on the Centre account."



"We still don't know where they're driving. Think. What did you say to Raines?"



"I told him I thought Jarod had checked Eric Strand's file. He thought Jarod was into CPRC files."



"And they have something in common?"



"Someone, Dr. Abraham. And we aren't the only people checking his files. I think Jarod was in them too."



"Does Raines know?"



"I didn't tell him," Broots hesitated. "I think I know where Mr. Raines went: Sherdon, Ohio. It's driving distance from Pittsburgh. But I wonder why he didn't fly to Cleveland."



"We're talking about Raines. Speaking of flying, where is the jet?"



Broots checked. "On its way home."



"Call two sweepers. Then call the hanger; tell them the plane will be going back out...to Cleveland."



***



Jarod searched the attic. He found no bats and no signs they had found a new way to enter. Satisfied that they could not return; he did a little remodeling He covered the partitions nearest the elevator with tarpaper. He took black netting from "Horrors To You" and strung it from the walls to the overhead lights and back then added a few more decorations for atmosphere.



Once he felt it was suitably enclosed, he switched off most of the lights. He removed the bulbs from the lights in his cave and did some rewiring including a tape recorder and the light activated switches. When that was done he worked on the elevator.



It was one a.m. when Jarod finished. He changed into the grey overalls and went down to the lobby to wait. His little program was set to take down the hospital- pharmacy interface at midnight. Gregory Horner's phone would have rung after Information Systems checked and found no problem on their side of the interface.



Jarod stood in a hallway with a clear view of the disabled parking area. He did not have to wait long before Dr. Horner arrived. When Gregory neared the elevator, Jarod walked over to stand beside him.



"Good evening, Dr. Horner," Jarod looked up at the wall clock. "You're here rather late."



Gregory was startled; he turned slightly, frowning. "There's some problem with the computer." He looked Jarod over and glanced at his nametag. "What's your business here? I wasn't aware that exterminators worked third shift."



"I'm finishing up the bat removal. Once everything is sealed up, my job is done," Jarod smiled.



"Oh, the bats," Gregory grimaced. "Vermin. Wouldn't it be simpler to just kill them and be done?"



"These bats are an endangered species. Killing them is illegal as well as inhumane." The elevator doors opened; Jarod entered and held the door for Gregory. "Actually, I would rather be around bats than some people I've known. Not as scary."



Gregory grunted, entered the elevator, and pressed the button for the second floor. Jarod released the door, inserted the small key into the panel above the twelve buttons and turned it.



The elevator rose slowly and did not stop at two. Gregory swore softly and pressed buttons for three and four. He swore again when the elevator continued to rise. He pressed more buttons, becoming increasingly agitated. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His eyes darted from the door to the panel of buttons, then to Jarod.



Jarod looked perplexed, "Looks like we got the express to the top."



"It's your fault," Gregory grabbed for the key. Jarod covered it with his hand. Gregory pushed his hand aside and pulled out the key. The elevator continued to rise. Jarod remained expressionless, watching the floor numbers above the door, 8...9...10...11...12... Gregory was shifting his weight from leg to leg and panting slightly...13. The door started to open...and the lights went out.



"What the Hell is going on?!" Gregory exclaimed.



"You shouldn't have done that." Jarod switched on a small tight-beamed flashlight and aimed it at the control panel.



"What? Take the key?" Gregory's hand shook as he replaced the key in the panel.



"Sometimes what seems like a little thing can be a life changing event." Jarod trained the light on Gregory's face. "You shouldn't have taken the key...or the drugs."



"I don't know what you're talking about,' Gregory said angrily. He was sweating now, and loosened his collar.



Jarod seemed concerned, "You look a little upset, Dr. Horner. Is something wrong?"



"I don't like elevators, close spaces. Get the door open!" Gregory maintained control with effort.



"As a favor to you," Jarod pushed the doors open and played the flashlight around the area just outside the elevator. Gregory gasped and stumbled to the back of the elevator. "What are you doing? What? Why? How?"



Through the open doors he could see a small cave, complete with several bats. The bats screeched and moved when the light hit them. There were flapping noises in the dark.



"This? This is just a small piece of your past. Everyone should get to know their past," Jarod grew solemn. "If this reenactment bothers you I'm sorry. For what you did after this you will be sorry."



Gregory was frightened, "You're psychotic."



"Perhaps," Jarod's eyes narrowed. "But I know what I'm talking about. After the cave accident you had several reconstructive surgeries, months of rehabilitation, a lot of pain, and a lot of pain medication.



"When the doctors cut back on your medication you decided they were wrong. And you were a hospital pharmacist. It wasn't easy but you managed to siphon off a pill or two, here and there, to supplement you prescriptions.



"Then record keeping improved, even at small Delaware hospitals. You were close to being arrested when The Centre recruited you."



Gregory's eyes flew to Jarod's face and widened. Jarod was grim, "Oh, The Centre? Yes, I know about them. They recruited me too, in a manner of speaking. I was a little less willing. You, on the other hand, seemed to do quite well there. They understood your pain."



"They helped me," Gregory interrupted sharply.



"They help no one!" Jarod growled. "They gave you what you wanted because you were willing to perform for them. You did work with Dr. Abraham for The Centre?"



"Yes," Gregory leaned against the handrail. He was shaken. "Dr. Abraham is a brilliant pharmaceutical chemist."



"What did you develop with him?"



"Drugs to enhance learning; heighten empathy. Some improved psychotherapy medications." Gregory became more agitated.



"What did they do with them?"



"I don't know."



"What did they do with them?!"



"I don't know!" he was close to weeping.



"What about Dr. Abraham's individual research?"



Gregory was barely in control, "I don't know! He never told me. Even if he did, I couldn't tell you. They would see to it."



Jarod did not respond to the truth. "What about Eric Strand?"



"I had nothing to do with what happened to Eric," Gregory's voice changed, became guarded.



Jarod caught it immediately. "What do you know about what happened to him?"



""What do you know?" Gregory hedged. "You can't prove anything. If this is all about you suing for malpractice, you're out of luck," a hint of smugness in his tone. "I know that Dr. Abraham was treating Eric, using standard medication and therapy guidelines, when he killed himself. There were thorough investigations, by the police and the Medical Center."



" Jarod stepped off the elevator. "Why don't we take a short walk?" He held a hand out to Gregory.



"I'm not going anywhere, not with you." Gregory was adamant.



"Very well," Jarod pulled a remote control from a jumpsuit pocket and pressed a button. The elevator dropped two inches as the doors started to close.



"No! Wait. What are you doing?!" Gregory grabbed the handrail. Dropping his cane, he fought to stay on his feet.



"Sending the car to the bottom. All the way down," Jarod smiled, but his eyes were cruel.



"You wouldn't!" Gregory was on the brink of hysteria.



"I would," Jarod touched the button again. The elevator lurched downward a foot. The doors slid shut.



Gregory fell to the floor. "What do you want?!" he screamed. Wait! Tell me what you want!"



"I want the truth about Eric. What drugs did you or Abraham give him?"



"I don't have your truth!" he exclaimed. "Check the autopsy. All meds were prescribed. I didn't have anything to do with his death."



"I don't think I believe you." The elevator lurched again.



"I'm not lying," Gregory sobbed. "I didn't give him anything. If Abraham used any drugs they're medically warranted." Gregory paused, "Or untraceable. Do you think he's stupid?"



"You don't want to know what I think." Jarod's voice was low. He was surprised and uncertain for a moment. Dr. Horner was not responsible for Eric's death and did not have the details needed to indict Dr. Abraham and The Centre.



He dropped that tack and turned to another, concealing his doubt, "What about Carl Alison? Are you going to tell me you had nothing to do with the missing drugs?"



Gregory calmed; became defensive, "Alright, I did. I'll tell you. Open the door. Please!" he begged. "I can't breathe in here."



Jarod pressed another button. The elevator doors opened and the light came on. Gregory gasped and shut his eyes. A tear ran down his cheek. Jarod was not impressed, he raised his voice, "Now, tell me about Carl."



Gregory sat on the elevator floor, looking up at Jarod through the open door. "After Eric died, Carl started asking questions about what had happened. Dr. Abraham didn't like it. He's a proud bastard. He would never admit it if he made a mistake with Eric's treatment. I guess he told The Centre that Carl was asking him questions and asking questions about him. The Centre didn't like it. They wanted to protect Abraham and they knew about my... addiction. They had been supplying me with prescriptions and this." Gregory pulled a diskette from his pocket. "I can use it to alter records in the Pharmacy computer system. They said they would cut me off if I didn't do what they said." Gregory began to whine,



"You can't imagine what I've been through. I can't live without the pills." Tears were rolling down his cheeks.



"I can imagine," Jarod had no sympathy. "But you could have gotten help."



"It's too late. If what I did gets out my career will be over, my whole life." Gregory whimpered.



"So you decided to destroy Carl Alison's career and life." Jarod's voice was hard. "Tell me about the diskette."



"I use it to manipulate pill counts and dosages after the fact. The patient is long discharged; or better yet, dead. No one was hurt."



"Not until you used the program to work the numbers and make it look like Carl stole all the drugs."



"I had to do it! Gregory bawled. "I can't help myself! I can't stop. I'm in Hell!" he broke down, sobbing openly.



"There were plenty of people to help you. The accident and the addiction to pain killers were not your fault. You could have gotten help. Instead you may have helped The Centre take one man's life, and almost destroyed another. You are in a hell of your own making, and I'm going to send you down to deal with it." Jarod touched a button on the remote, an alarm began to sound.



Gregory was terrified, "What do you mean? Are you going to drop me?" He grabbed at the handrails again.



"No, I'm sending you down slowly. With this." Jarod tossed a manila envelope into the elevator. "It's a printout of the drugs you've stolen over the last month."



Gregory stared at the package, "They told me the program was untraceable."



"They lie."



Gregory nodded slightly. Jarod continued, "There should be security guards on the first floor to meet you." He pressed another button and the elevator doors started to close. Jarod held them open. "I suggest you tell them the truth about Carl."



"I'll tell them I developed the program. I won't tell them about The Centre or Dr. Abraham. You can kill me now if that's what you want. I know they will."



"The Centre is very good at covering their tracks - permanently." Jarod saw Gregory cringe. "I can't prove anything about Eric, so there's no point. But you can take responsibility for your actions after that. For what you did to Carl."



Gregory put his hands over his face, then slowly brought them up and ran them through his hair, "Yes. But what will happen to me,"



"You'll have to work that out yourself. The Centre won't bail you out this time, but two mysterious 'suicides' may be too many, even for them."



Gregory looked down. He could hear the security guards calling from the bottom of the elevator shaft. "It seems I have no choice."



"You had choices. You made some bad ones. Now you have to face them." Jarod released the door. Gregory tensed but made no effort to rise.



When the elevator doors opened at the bottom the guards were shocked at Dr. Horner's appearance. He hardly resembled the well-groomed, arrogant man they knew. They helped him to his feet and asked him what happened.



"I fell out of a bat cave." Then he laughed coldly.



He didn't seem hysterical to them but they did not feel they should argue. One of the guards helped him toward the car. The other spoke to him calmly, "We're taking you to the ER, Dr. Horner, just to get checked out."



"If you like," he agreed. "Can you do me a favor?" He handed the diskette and envelope to the guards. "Give these to the police. They will want to speak to me about them."



Jarod watched from an attic window until they drove to the ER entrance. When they were gone, he dismantled the cave. It collapsed quickly. The tarpaper was rolled and put back into its storage area. The netting and wiring were stuffed into garbage bags. He removed the mechanical bats from the light fixtures and replaced the bulbs.



Jarod put the bats, tools, tape recorder, Halloween tape, and jumpsuit into his duffel bag. He called the elevator and removed the wiring used for the remote control. He put the garbage bags and his bag on the elevator. After everything was packed and restored he joined the bags.



Jarod took the elevator to the basement. He took the garbage bags out the back door to the dumpster. Returning to the main floor, he put the elevator key into an envelope for Environmental Services. He added a completed work order and a note saying the attic should be cleaned first thing in the morning. He dropped the envelope into inner-hospital mail, picked up the duffel bag and went out the front door.



Late night bus service was intermittent and Jarod did not care to be noticed. He walked part of the way, caught a ride to an all-night

convenience store in the neighborhood, and then walked the last two blocks. He slipped into the apartment as quietly as possible. The Furmanskys never questioned his coming and going at odd hours but he did not care to disturb them.



Jarod slept fitfully for a few hours. In the morning he continued cataloging Eric's things. He designated the computer for the boys. He packed the bats, Dracula tapes, remote controls and audiotapes into a box, along with instructions for Carl on their use. He added several pairs of plastic vampire teeth, sealed the box and marked it "Do not open until October". It was early for a Christmas present but he was sure the boys would put it to good use a few days after opening.







Part Five





Jarod picked up his cellphone and hit the memory dial.



"Yes?" in a smooth, rich voice.



"Hello, Sydney."



"Hello, Jarod. How are you?"



"Tired. I've been working nights."



"Working where?"



"Attics, cellars, dark holes. Looking for signs of The Centre."



"Signs leading to what?"



"The truth about what happened to Eric Strand."



Sydney sighed, "Eric had a breakdown."



"You know about Eric?" Jarod was suddenly suspicious. Eric was one of Raines' projects. Why and what did Sydney know?



"Yes, I know." Sydney continued. "His records are part of a recent study by Centre psychiatrists."



"Was one of those psychiatrists Jonathan Abraham?" Jarod knew the answer. At least Sydney was not directly involved.



"Yes," Sydney was surprised. "How did you know? Have you read the report?" he was concerned about Jarod's interpretation. Would he see himself in it? "Eric had many problems."



"I don't need to see that report to recognize Eric's problem. It was your Dr. Abraham."



"What do you mean, Jarod?"



"Did you know that Dr. Abraham was treating Eric at the time he died?"



Sydney was startled, "You are mistaken. Dr. Gregory Abraham works here, in Renewal Wing. The majority of his work is the treatment of traumatic psychological injuries. He does not have a private practice, and Eric was no longer involved with The Centre." Sydney paused, "Dr. Abraham is a respected physician. You can't think he was responsible for Eric's death? You must have evidence before you accuse him."



Jarod sighed, "I have no proof. But I know, Sydney, I know." He switched off the phone.



***





Sydney immediately went to Miss Parker's office. She was absent; so was the overnight bag she kept in her office. He went to Broots work area and found him dozing at his desk; wearing the same clothes Sydney had seen him in the previous day.



"Have you been here all night?"



Broots startled, "Oh, Sydney. Yes. Everyone wants results, and they want them 'now.' First Miss Parker, then Mr. Raines, then Miss Parker again."



"Have you seen Miss Parker this morning?"



"Welll, ahhh, I'm not sure if she wants me to tell you. She didn't call you before she left?"



"Left for where?" Sydney was quickly becoming frustrated; Broots hesitated. Sydney decided on the easiest argument, "As Miss Parker would say 'spill it, Broots!'" He was rather pleased with the result.



Broots winced, "She went to Sherdon, Ohio. She, we, think Mr. Raines went there after Jarod. She went after Raines."



"You may both be right." Sydney repeated his conversation with Jarod. Broots confirmed that Dr. Abraham had been treating Eric. Sydney decided to join the exodus. "Do you know where Mr. Raines or Miss Parker are staying?"



"Mr. Raines rented a wing of an old motel, the "Starlight," in an older section of Sherdon, near the hospital. There's some light industry and a couple of office buildings nearby. The area is undergoing 'revitalization' so the motel is out-of- the-way. I faxed all the information I have to Miss Parker." Broots handed Sydney a packet of papers, "This is your copy."



Sydney took the papers and nodded thanks. Broots turned back to the computer. After two minutes he turned back to Sydney, "You're booked on the commuter to DC, then a flight to Cleveland, then a commuter to Sherdon. That's the fastest way. You can get a cab in Sherdon or I can try for a rental car."



Sydney smiled, "A taxi will be fine. When do I leave?"



"You have to leave now. Should I get you a sweeper?"



"I believe there are sufficient number in Sherdon already. It is not necessary to inform Miss Parker that I will be joining her. I prefer less fanfare. Care to join us, Broots?"



"No, thank you, Sydney. If it's okay with everyone, I'm going home to sleep."



Sydney laughed softly and exited; Broots grabbed his gym bag and got out.



***



After speaking to Sydney, Jarod completed packing Eric's belongings. He itemized them for distribution and marked the boxes. His accusation was bound to cause Sydney and, therefore, Broots to search records. It would not take long before Miss Parker was involved. Jarod smiled. Broots would have no rest until he aimed her toward Sherdon. He estimated eight to ten hours from now she would be bursting through the apartment door. Jarod left the red notebook and a pair of plastic vampire teeth in plain view.



The Furmanskys called him to lunch. Jarod gave them a small package to mail. He talked with John and Betty for an hour. He gave them the inventory with notes about how and why he had chosen to divide Eric's things. The Furmanskys read over the list and approved. They were sorry to hear he was leaving.



Jarod went to the apartment for his bag. He still had to retrieve the locker key from Mina's house and get his DSA case. Then he would move on to his next pretend.



As Jarod walked into Eric's apartment he saw a car pull into the Alison's driveway. He recognized Carl's lawyer. Carl came out of the front door to greet him, embracing him and shaking hands. Carl was crying and smiling at the same time. The boys and Mina were in the side yard. They did not follow the two men back into the house.



Jarod grabbed his bag. He returned the apartment key to Betty, who gave him an embarrassingly hearty hug and kiss. Then he went to the fence. Todd and Chad were tossing a tennis ball back and forth over Mina's head. She stood in the middle, patiently waiting for one of them to miss.



"You guys look happy this morning," Jarod called.



"We're always happy," answered Todd, laughing.



Jarod felt happier himself. He had not accomplished his primary goal, the solution to Eric's riddle. But he had stopped Carl's prosecution and kept this family together.



Chad nodded toward the house. "My dad's lawyer is in there. He called this morning to say they 'dropped all charges.' Now they're going downtown to make sure everything's okay." Chad shrugged, "I guess we'll find out later."



Carl and the lawyer exited the house. The lawyer went to his car. Carl went to Jarod. "I don't know what you did or how you did it," he said softly, grasping Jarod's hand in both of his. "But I can never thank you enough." Tears returned to his eyes. He cleared his throat and turned to his sons, "Come on boys, we have to go."



"Aww, Dad, can't we stay here?" Todd whined.



"I don't know how long we'll be. I can't leave you alone."



Jarod interrupted, "I would be glad to stay with them. If you don't object." He smiled at the boys.



"You look like you were going somewhere," Carl indicated Jarod's bag.



"I have no special place to be. If the boys don't mind my company, I won't mind catching a later bus." Jarod's smile broadened.



Todd looked up at Jarod, "Will you stay? Can we go to the park?" He bounced in place. "We'll be good. We can play Frisbee." He turned to his father hopefully, "Is that okay, Dad?"



"Carl smiled, "If it's okay with Jarod, it's okay with me. Thank you again, Jarod. My wife gets off work at three. I'll be calling her from downtown. I'll tell her to check the park. She should be home before four." Carl kissed Todd on the forehead. He patted Chad on the shoulder and asked him to take charge of Todd. Then Carl turned and joined his lawyer.



The car drove off and the boys started coaxing Jarod to take them to the park. It did not take much effort.



Chad put Jarod's bag on their back porch and returned with a leash and water dish for Mina. "She can come. Can't she?" Todd begged. "She'll be real good." Mina gave Jarod her best pathetic puppy look.



Jarod could not resist the hundred pounds of pathos, he rubbed her head, "Of course she can." Mina's whole body wagged.



The four of them walked briskly to the park. The boys never stopped talking. Jarod never stopped smiling.



At the park, they unleashed Mina. The boys showed Jarod the finer points of "Three Man Frisbee With Dog." Unfortunately Mina was less willing to return the frisbee than a tennis ball; she taught Jarod "Chase The Dog." Two hours later, a breathless Jarod and winded Mina called time-out and went to sit in the shade. Jarod made the boys come along. After cooling down, they went to the water fountain.



At the fountain, Chad met several friends who were organizing a pick-up football game. He reluctantly refused an invitation to join them. Jarod asked why.



"I want to play, but Dad told me to watch Todd," Chad wrinkled his nose. "But, Mina's here, and you. So... could you watch Todd for a while?"



"I'd be pleased to," Jarod answered. "I think I can do it if Mina's helps."



Chad ran to catch up with his friends. Mina looked from Jarod to Todd and back, appraising Jarod once more. "I can handle this," he assured her. Mina huffed at him once then went to Todd. "Thank you," Jarod felt honored. He and Todd joined the "other" three and four year olds at the sandbox. Pets were not permitted in the playground so Mina stationed herself under the bushes near the gate. The children showed Jarod the proper way to Tonka sand.



Some time passed before Jarod and Mina went to check on Chad. From the top of the rise they could see the boys chasing each other around the field. Mina sat down to watch.



On the far side of the park there was a man in a suit, just standing and looking around. Jarod thought it strange and decided to back into the nearby bushes as a precaution. He had taken two steps when he was stopped by a familiar female voice.



"Going somewhere?" she asked. Jarod turned to face the voice's owner and her gun.



"You look so cute playing with the other little boys, Jarod. Baby-sitting becomes you." Miss Parker had been watching for five minutes; she envied his ease with the children.



"Miss Parker! What are you doing here?" Jarod was dumbfounded.



"Lucky accident. And if you don't want to have one you better just stay where you are while I call in my sweepers." Miss Parker reached for the com-link on her belt.



Mina noticed the new person near her Todd. She saw Jarod's tension and quickly went to control the situation.



Jarod recovered his composure, "What are you going to do, Miss Parker? Shoot me in front of these children?"



"There are other ways to slow you down. A broken leg or back would do nicely."



She had his full attention. His mind was racing between wondering how she had found him and how to escape from her. He had only spoken to Sydney a few hours before. Even Broots could not have traced him this soon, from so little information? What mistake had he made? How could he distract her long enough to get away?



Miss Parker was the first to notice the hundred pound distraction staring at her. Mina moved between her and Jarod, trying to decide if he needed protection.



"What the hell is that?!" said Parker pointing at Mina.



"A rottweiler," Jarod said over his shoulder as he bolted into the bushes. Miss Parker tried to follow but her tone of voice had made Mina's decision. She intercepted Miss Parker, showed all her glorious teeth and growled from deep in her chest. Parker stopped. She tried to keep an eye on Jarod and convince the dog that she meant no harm. It was a poor attempt. Mina stood her ground; Miss Parker backed up to try a different direction.



Just then Chad shrieked from the bottom of a boy-pile. Mina felt he was more important than proving dominance over this aggressive woman. She growled again then ran down the hill.



Miss Parker ran around the bushes. Her heels slowed her in the grass but once she made it to a sidewalk her progress improved. She called the sweepers on the com-link and told them she had sighted Jarod.



The sweepers had not seen him so Miss Parker circled back toward the school parking lot. If Jarod had a car she wanted to make sure he could not get to it.



Jarod doubled back, sighting and avoiding the sweepers He needed to make sure Todd was safe and Chad knew he was leaving. Jarod reached the playground, Todd was gone. He ran to the hillside. Down on the field, Chad was talking to Mina. Jarod yelled,



"Chad! Do you have Todd?"



Chad looked up. "You were supposed to watch him!" he called back.



"I know," Jarod said to himself. "I'll find him!" he yelled. Chad started up the rise, running. Mina was close behind.



A sweeper's attention was attracted by the yelling. He started running toward Jarod, calling the others on his com-link.



Jarod expected to find Todd fast. How far could a four-year-old go in five minutes? He ran toward the school and caught sight of Todd some distance in front of him. Todd was at the edge of the parking lot heading for the cars. Jarod also saw Miss Parker, nearer to Todd than himself. The boy walked between two parked cars. A pickup truck was pulling into the next parking space.



"The boy! Get the boy!!" Jarod yelled, gaining speed with desperation.



Miss Parker scanned the area and saw Jarod running toward her at full speed. Was he crazy? She turned to the lot where he was pointing. She saw Todd, she saw the truck, and she knew the driver and boy did not see each other.



"Oh, shit," she said. Instinctively, she turned and ran after Todd. She reached him, scooped him up, and turned her back to the truck that was inches away from them. Brakes squealed, Todd screamed in surprise. She heard Jarod shout, "No!"



All she could think was 'like mother like daughter' with wry amusement. She took the impact of the truck on her back and hips as she rolled herself around Todd.



The truck threw her halfway across the parking space. She hit the grass on the other side and rolled, protecting Todd. She was not sure what surprised her most: that she was alive, that she was conscious, or that she hurt so much. She could hear Jarod's voice asking if she was all right but she could not catch her breath to answer.



Jarod helped Todd pry himself out of her arms. Todd, unhurt, ran to his mother, who had just arrived in her car. Then he burst into tears. Chad ran directly to her and told her what had happened. Teri carefully put Todd in the car, Chad and Mina piled in, and the Alison's drove off to the hospital.



Bystanders began to gather around the accident scene. Jarod knelt beside Parker and checked her pulse. He ran his hands over her arms, head and neck, checking for injuries. He had one hand on her ribs and the other on her thigh, when she caught her breath and opened her eyes.



"Shouldn't we be someplace more private for this?" Miss Parker asked sarcastically. She began to move slowly as she performed a self-check. The pain was fading quickly and she decided she might have gotten away with major bruising, and a ruined outfit. Lying flat made her feel vulnerable. She sat up, felt a sharp stab in her side, gasped and clutched Jarod's arm in reflex.



Jarod tried to keep her still. "Miss Parker, please don't move. You may be more injured than you know."



Miss Parker tore her hand off Jarod's arm. "Hold the concern, Jarod." The pain in her ribs lessened. "You didn't get me killed, nice try though. Next time have the truck move faster."



Jarod looked hurt, "You don't think I deliberately put you and Todd in danger?"



"Todd. Is that the brat's name? Where is he? Is he injured? Not even a 'thank you'." Miss Parker looked around for the boy, and her neck ached.



"He's alright. His mother took him," Jarod ignored her lack of concern for Todd.



Miss Parker was inwardly relieved, "Did they take the devil-dog with them?"



"Mina is gone too."



"Mina? Where'd they get that name?"



"From 'Dracula,' a very good book. It was written in 1897 and is still popular. There have been many movies based on the story; with very different interpretations. The vampire segment of the horror movie genre is...." The sweepers arrived.



"Never mind, Jarod. Your horror movie is just starting." Parker lifted her arm toward the nearest of six sweepers. She got to her feet with a grunt and assistance from the sweeper.



"You should go to the hospital to be examined." Jarod said. He was still kneeling, with a sweeper's hand on either shoulder.



"I'll worry about myself," she snarled, She knew that if he hadn't stopped to check her he would have gotten away. A sweeper

handed her a shoe she had lost, the heel was missing. "Moron," she threw the shoe at him. She picked up the other shoe and threw it toward the small crowd. "Show's over, ghouls! No blood, no guts, no fun." the people moved off, whispering unfavorable comments about her among themselves. The truck driver stood beside his vehicle with his mouth hanging open. Miss Parker glared at him, and he shut it. (Jarod tried to recall where else had he seen that look.)



"Lets get the hell out of here." Parker limped barefoot to her car, pushing away the sweepers and their offered help. The sweepers handcuffed Jarod, pulled him to his feet and pushed him into Miss Parker's car. He saw no point in struggling, at the moment he preferred being less injured than Miss Parker.



By the time they reached the motel, Miss Parker was having trouble sitting in an upright position. Her left side hurt like hell, her neck was stiff and her back felt like one huge bruise. She could sense Jarod watching and would not allow him to see her pain.



***



This was Miss Parker's second visit to the Starlight Motel. The area was near the abandoned steel mill. There were office buildings and stores in various stages of repair accompanied by signs promising urban renewal. Farther from the motel she saw examples of revitalization including small businesses.



The motel was older but well kept. Behind it was a grassy area, then a four-lane highway bounded by a high fence. On one side were several vacant lots, on the other was a large office building under renovation. The building had an elegant façade with a large sign advertising "Offices For Rent" in the window.



Miss Parker had arrived here in the early morning, looking for Raines. She and the two sweepers were directed to the back wing. They met four sweepers unfamiliar to her. The two who had accompanied her were not her preferred staff. In the middle of the night, in a hurry, she took what she could get.



Mr. Raines was not there. According to the sweepers he had remained in Pittsburgh for an appointment and was expected tomorrow. Raines sent them to Sherdon because of what Broots told him last night. What they found confirmed Broots' theory that Jarod was responsible for computer trespasses at The Centre and Central Pharmaceutical Research Corporation. The sweepers briefed Miss Parker on Gregory Horner's collapse. His experience sounded like one of Jarod's revenge missions. Jarod had visited Sherdon.



Mr. Raines had rooms on the ground floor, Miss Parker took two on the second. She dropped off the few things she had brought and splashed water in her face. Then she dragged the sweepers out of their rooms in search of coffee and Jarod.



***



It was five p.m. on the dot when a taxi pulled into the Starlight's parking lot and Sydney got out. Miss Parker's car drove in two minutes later. Parker was barely fazed by seeing Sydney waiting for her.



The sweepers dragged Jarod from the back of the car. Miss Parker braced herself and carefully worked her way out of the front seat. Jarod had been silent during the car trip. Now he appealed to Sydney, not for himself but for her. "Sydney, please talk her into going to the emergency room. She needs to be examined. There could be internal injuries."



Sydney was perplexed. Miss Parker gave him a synopsis of Jarod's capture and the accident. Just as she reached the "I'm fine, I don't need a hospital," pain stabbed through her ribs. She doubled over, barely able to breathe. "Alright," she gasped, "If it makes you and pseudo-doctor happy I'll go. Sydney, come with me. Somebody get my bag. You," she scowled at the sweepers, "see if you can keep Jarod here while I'm gone."



Sydney helped Miss Parker back into the passenger seat. He drove the car.



The sweepers moved Jarod to one of the second floor rooms. Immediately after closing the door, one of the sweepers placed a call, "We've got him in the room." They ordered him to lie on the bed. One of them removed the handcuffs and rebound his wrists with soft leather restraints. These were tied to the headboard. Jarod was concerned but said nothing.



There was a tap at the door. A sweeper opened it and moved aside. Mr. Raines walked in. Jarod felt his heart freeze in his chest. He did not anticipate facing Raines until they got back to The Centre and had planned to escape before then. For some bizarre reason seeing Raines brought back Jarod's nightmare. "Come to drain my blood, Mr. Raines?" Jarod's voice sounded stronger to him than he expected.



"No, just your will." Raines recognized the reference and smiled slightly. He handed a small black box to the sweeper nearest the bed. "As we discussed, Paul." Paul nodded, opened the case and removed the first of four syringes.



"Exactly what are you planning to do?" Jarod asked. He fought to keep his voice even, he felt like he could not breathe. Jarod pulled against his bonds. Four syringes. Filled with what? Did they intend to kill him immediately?



Mr. Raines continued to smile, "You'll see. I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. Don't let your imagination get ahead of you. Not just yet." That smile was worse than a nightmare.



Paul injected the first syringe directly into Jarod's vein. Jarod tried to distance himself from the situation but could not. Mr. Raines told the sweepers he would return in three hours. As Jarod watched him go, he could feel the drug burning its way up his arm into his brain. Then the trembling began.







Part Six





Miss Parker was admitted for overnight observation. She was "lucky," three cracked ribs, multiple contusions, and whiplash. She did not feel lucky. She chased a nurse with a hospital gown out of the room.



Once the narcotics took effect she stopped threatening everyone in sight and began to feel fortunate. She also felt like leaving. After Sydney's speech on the necessity of caution, and the physician's refusal to prescribe pain medication if she left before twelve hours, she decided to stay. She trashed the suit she had been wearing and changed into a nightgown from her overnight bag.



Sydney wanted to go to Jarod but thought it best he remain at the hospital, to ensure that Miss Parker did.



By the time Parker lay back in the bed and allowed the medication to lull her to sleep she had called the motel five times. The last call came minutes before Mr. Raines returned to Jarod's room. One sweeper sat on Jarod's legs. One held down his arms, which were straining against the restraints. A sweeper leaned on Jarod's chest and held a pillow over his face. Paul assured Miss Parker that Jarod was sleeping.



Mr. Raines came in and stood by the door, quietly smiling. Renting the entire motel wing had been a wise precaution, and he could not have arranged Parker and Sydney's absence better if he had injured her himself. The thought made his smile broaden. Jarod had saved him that alternative, and the complications it might have caused. Raines broke from his reverie. A sweeper was looking at him for permission to remove the pillow from Jarod's face. Raines nodded and the pillow was pulled away.



Jarod sucked in air. He stopped fighting and lay shuddering on the bed. He could not stop the spasms or the absolute fear the drugs were causing. He could not control or even analyze what was happening to him. He stared at the ceiling and spoke through gritted teeth, "What do you want from me?"



"What if I told you I did not want anything? I just want to stand here and observe you. Just like the 'old days.' Is that what you want to hear?"



Jarod went into convulsions. A sweeper instantly restrained his thrashing body. Raines ordered the sweeper to tie down Jarod's legs. He turned to the sweeper nearest the door, "Get him in here! Now!"



A man in his mid-fifties was escorted into the room. The newcomer checked Jarod's pulse. Jarod's seizure ended, his body relaxed. He tried to focus on the man but could not place him. Jarod's speech was slurred, "Who are you?"



Raines answered, "Well, Jarod, this is a man you wanted to meet. I know he's wanted to meet you. I would like to introduce you to Jonathan Abraham MD. Dr. Abraham, the infamous Jarod."



Dr. Abraham smiled benignly down at him. Jarod began to shudder. Dr. Abraham took a small syringe from a case he had brought, and injected the contents into a vein. He turned to Mr. Raines. "We gave him a large dose of Admixture A. This reaction is not entirely unexpected. This medication will stop the tremors." The doctor turned to Paul, "Allow him to rest before the next injection. Be sure to agitate the syringe before use, B is an emulsion." Paul nodded. "Call me again if he has a severe reaction." Dr. Abraham patted Jarod on the chest and left.



Raines waited a few moments to be sure the seizures were over. "Give him the next combination."



Paul shook the syringe and injected the emulsion into the muscle. Jarod felt detached, floating. He asked again, "What do you want from me?"



"Your soul would do nicely."



Jarod turned to look at Raines. The room was dark and he could barely see him. Jarod felt his soul leave his body. He saw it moving toward Raines. He watched Raines teeth grow into fangs. Jarod squeezed his eyes shut. He fought for calm and sanity. When he opened his eyes Raines appeared normal. Jarod knew it had been a hallucination but he was having difficulty hanging on to reality.



The light changed colors. The walls were moving. Then it stopped. All he could feel was his heart beating, all he could hear was his own breathing. He was alone. In a coffin. Waiting for night so that he could rise and hunt.



Jarod snapped out of the illusion. Mr. Raines was standing over the bed, "I can make this stop. But you have to give me something first. Where are the DSAs?"



"I won't tell you."



"You will tell me that, and more eventually. We have time before your guardians return to claim you. Tell me where the DSAs are."



"No."



"Very well. Gentlemen, continue. I need some rest; I will return in a few hours." Raines started toward the door. "Those of you not needed may do the same." Three sweepers left behind him. Another went out to smoke. Two remained.



The two put foam wedges on either side of Jarod's body so that he could not move. They turned off all the lights and put soft silk blinders over his eyes. They placed a set of earphones on his head. Jarod could not see or move, he could not even hear himself speaking. The sweepers did not speak to each other and would not respond to him.



Jarod's mind filled the blankness with demons. They howeled and screamed and cackled; he was running tripping, falling, the earth swallowed him. Then he came back to himself. The silent darkness tore at him, ripping his soul to shreds. Then he came back to himself. The cycle continued for two and a half-hours. Then the sweepers dismantled the setup. The lights came on. Paul left the room.



Jarod tried to hide his eyes and cover his ears with his bound arms. Sounds were amplified and distorted, he could find no meaning in anything he saw, reality blurred and swirled, his senses overloaded, he thought he cried out but could not be sure. A spasm of nausea. He turned to the side and retched violently. He fought the restraints and his mind until everything went black and silent. He lost consciousness.



Raines was in the room when Jarod woke. "How long has he been out?"



"About fifteen minutes," Paul answered. "Shall we start the next segment?"



"Is Dr. Abraham watching?"



"Yes. He would like a longer interval between segments but is pleased. Results match expectations, consistent outcomes improve marketability, et cetera. He anticipates success in marketing the four part program."



"I think it's time for Dr. Abraham to return to The Centre," Raines said."Get Dick; he can begin his persuasion. He knows where I'll be." Raines and Paul left. Minutes later, Jarod heard a car drive away from the motel.



Two new sweepers came and told Paul's assistant to go. The sweeper named Dick had brought a large toolbox. He sat it on the floor and pulled out a what looked like a defibrillator. He plugged the cord into an outlet and flipped a switch. Dick looked at Jarod with clinical detachment, "Do you want to change your mind?"



"No."



"Very well. Gene, get the meds." Dick attached the wires to Jarod's wrists and ankles. Gene injected the third solution. "Last chance."



"No."



"Okay. Dick, lets start nice and slow. We'll work our way up." Gene said. Dick nodded and set the dial. He administered a shock that radiated through Jarod's muscles. The shock lasted a millisecond, the burning went on much longer. That was the purpose of Solution C.



"Again." The next jolt made Jarod's jaw clench and his arms and legs spasm.



"DSAs?" Gene asked.



"No!" through still clenched teeth.



"Again."



The sequence repeated until Jarod could not hold back screams and lost consciousness for a second time.



"DSAs?" Gene asked. There was no response.



Dick checked Jarod's neck for a pulse. "He's alive. That last one was over the safty max. I think we'd better pack this stuff up before we kill him. If we do, there'll be Hell to pay."



Gene grimaced, "I thought he'd talk by now. Pretty tough for an egghead. We better try the hands-on method before Raines gets back." Dick repacked the machine and unpacked a few smaller implements. Gene slapped Jarod awake. Jarod, briefly calm, tried to speak but his mouth was too dry.



"Like a little water?" Gene asked.



Jarod tried to refuse, then nodded. Gene lifted Jarod's head and gave him sips, then took a cold rag and wiped the perspiration off Jarod's face and neck. Gene spoke, "Give it up. Give us the DSAs."



"I won't do that." Jarod croaked.



"You will...eventually." Gene turned to Dick, "We may as well get started. Gag him".



Dick taped a ball of gauze in Jarod's mouth while Jarod fought him. He continued to struggle for some time.



The sweepers were quite knowledgeable in joint manipulation and pressure points. Their few tools were effective and left no marks. Eventually Jarod stopped struggling. He almost gave in to the agony and drug induced despair. He was reduced to quiet sobs.



The phone rang once. Dick removed an implement from Jarod's abdomen. "Raines is coming." He returned the tools to the box. Gene ripped the gag away.



Mr. Raines entered the room, followed by Paul and two other sweepers. He went to the bed and leaned over Jarod. "Are you ready to give in now?"



There was silence except for Jarod's jagged breathing. From somewhere in his subconscious the answer came. It surprised even him, "No." Maybe now they would end this.



Raines straightened, "Very well."



The phone rang. It was Miss Parker, "Do you still have him?"



"Yes," Gene answered.



"Good. I'm getting out of this pathetic excuse for a hospital. I want you, and him, ready to go when I get there. Understood?!"



"Yes, Miss Parker."



Gene passed the information on to Mr. Raines. Raines frowned. "This alters the schedule slightly. The hospital is less than fifteen minutes from here. I'm leaving now. Get Paul and the others. Clean up the area. Make sure there is nothing for Miss Parker or Sydney to find." Raines turned to Jarod as he reached the door, "We can end this now if you cooperate."



Jarod had regained some self-control. "Never," his voice was shaky. He expected, even hoped, Raines would order his execution. He could no longer fight the devastating emotions from the drugs. "Why?"



Raines just looked down at him. "Because, if I allowed you to roam around unpunished, others might follow. You are an embarrassment and an expense. You will get no mercy until you surrender." He turned to Paul, "Hold the last shot until they pull in. You know the procedure after that. And clean him up!" Raines left.



Fifteen minutes. Jarod tried to brace himself for more torture; it never came. The sweepers policed the room. They took him into the bathroom, stripped him and pushed him into the shower. They permitted him to dry himself, and get dressed on his own, but allowed him no privacy. Once dressed, they pushed him back onto the bed and handcuffed him to the headboard. They talked among themselves, smoked and laughed. They ignored Jarod while he sank deeper into despair. He caught Gene looking at him and Gene just smiled. He would never escape, never be free again. No mercy. They were taking him back to The Centre to torture him forever. They would not even allow him the freedom of death. This was Hell and he was here for eternity. Jarod heard laughter; he knew it was the sweepers but in his surreal state he saw them as the demons, taunting him.



Dick heard a car and pulled back the drapes. Morning light poured into the motel room. "They're here."



Jarod's fantasy was barely interrupted when Paul leaned over him. "It's time for your last shot, Jarod. Do you want to submit?"



Jarod was beyond responding.



Paul injected Solution D, put the syringe in the case, and put the case in his pocket. He released the handcuffs. Two sweepers pulled Jarod to his feet, where he stood trembling. He could tell immediately that this was going to be the worst reaction. It was causing muscle spasms and an adrenaline rush. His breathing accelerated. The drug made him feel separated from reality, claustrophobic. His paranoia steadily increasing; anything to get away.



Jarod noticed, detached, that they made no effort to handcuff him. The sweepers led him out the door.



Miss Parker opened the car's passenger door. "Lets go!" she yelled up to the sweepers on the balcony.



Paul waved, then turned to the sweepers circling Jarod. "Do it," he said softly.



The group headed for the stairs at the rear. Miss Parker wondered why they were taking the longer route. When they reached the far end of the balcony the two sweepers on Jarod's right parted slightly. Jarod sensed something was wrong but his mind screamed 'Escape!' He caught one man in the upper chest with an elbow. He kicked the legs out from under the other. The remaining sweepers watched as though stunned.



Jarod ran to the back balcony. He could hear Miss Parker swearing and yelling at him to stop. He was incapable of stopping. He heard gunshots and expected to feel a bullet. None came close.



At the end of the balcony he jumped the railing. He hit a refuse bin and kept running, across an alley, into the parking lot of the empty office building. The four sweepers chasing him were slow. Jarod looked over his shoulder. He appeared to be gaining ground. He heard a car screeching around the corner and knew Miss Parker would soon cut him off. He took the last few yards at a higher speed. And found a boarded up side door.



He ripped the boards off, kicked the metal door open and threw himself inside. He heard car door slam. He heard Miss Parker call the sweepers names he had never heard, even from her mouth.



Jarod took the first three flights of stairs three at a stride. Another flight and Jarod took the right hand door off the landing. He heard Miss Parker behind him, still swearing and commanding him to stop.



He needed time to think, to clear his head. He could not understand what was happening to him. The chase was not going right. Nothing had since he allowed himself to be captured. He felt like the sweepers were playing with him. Were they? He had another hallucination, this was a maze and there was a giant cat, with Raines' face, waiting to pounce on him and throw him back if he tried to get out.



Jarod stopped and put his face against the cool wall. Reality returned. He did not have a plan and he needed one. He needed it now. The sweepers would be right on Parker's heels and covering as many exits as they could. Jarod took a left and then a right.



Miss Parker was far past angry. Running up steps made her breathe hard. Every breath was agony. Jarod would go all the way to the top. And these worthless sweepers. She was running faster than them, with cracked ribs. How could they let Jarod escape? Why were his hands free? Wait till she got them back to The Centre. If he gets away heads will roll!



Jarod came to the four-story foyer at the hub of the building. He briefly thought that the architect had made an interesting choice by using multiple slender support columns rather than the usual large ones. Then he jumped from the railing, four feet through the air, to wrap himself around a pillar. "Playing fireman again?" crossed his mind. He could hear Miss Parker screaming his name in a progressively higher-pitched voice. Looking up and back he could swear he saw fear (for him?) on her face. It was quickly replaced by anger. She ran for the stairs.



Jarod hit the ground floor, jarring every abused muscle and joint. There was a new cut in the palm of one hand. The pain did not register in his reality.



He saw a sweeper, with his back to the building, through the glass doors. Sydney was talking to the man, gesturing broadly. He had the guard's full attention. When Jarod caught Sydney's eye the guard took notice. He spun around and tried to open the door. It was locked. The sweeper stood, pounding on it. Sydney just smiled.



Jarod dashed for the side hall that would take him back to where he had entered the building. Before he reached the side door he knew Miss Parker had made it to the ground floor. He heard a gun go off and the glass door shatter. He wondered where Parker was aiming. He wondered if the sweeper ducked.



Jarod took a sharp right, ran down the hall, then another right. The sweeper from the front door followed Miss Parker down the hall, to meet another sweeper coming in the side door Jarod had intended to exit. A third sweeper was coming down the stairs.



"Did you see him?!" Miss Parker shouted. The sweepers shook their heads.



"Morons!" she yelled. She pointed at each sweeper, "You go left. You go right. You go back to the main hall. I'm going down that side hall back there." She started to move, "GO!!" The sweepers split up and ran down the halls, guns drawn. Miss Parker stalked down the hall Jarod had just used.



Jarod came to the end of the hallway and braced himself against the wall. It was a cul-de-sac with doors that led to small closets and a storage room. He could hear Miss Parker coming closer. He had no where to run. Panic took all his senses. He almost ran back toward her, then changed his mind. He moved into the small storage room and closed the door.



Miss Parker was passing the short hallway when she heard the latch softly click. Her eyes flashed to the doors. There was something on one of the knobs. She looked at the wall. There was a small stain on the fresh paint. Blood? Jarod must have cut himself during that pole stunt and not noticed. That was not like him. There was blood on the knob. She had him cornered. A small, almost evil, smile crossed her lips. She had him. Her ribs hurt; every part of her hurt. Jarod and the sweepers would pay for this little chase. She would see to it, starting now.



Miss Parker braced her gun hand close to her body and used the other hand to cautiously open the door. She slipped into the room and used a foot to hold the door while she felt for the light switch. Not much to see. Empty shelves. A tall silhouette in the far corner. She allowed the door to close.



"This isn't like you, Jarod. Getting stupid in your old age?" No response, that was definitely not like him. She moved two steps closer. The gun braced in front of her with both hands, aimed at Jarod's chest. She stopped. "Move out of the corner."



He did not budge.



"Move!!"



Jarod took a small step.



"Into the light. I want to see you.



Jarod shuffled to the middle of the room, directly in front of her. Miss Parker smiled coolly He was breathing hard and his eyes were frantic. Her smile faded.



"What did those sweepers do to you?" He just looked at her. "Jarod! Did someone do something to you?"



"Raines." One word was all Jarod could manage.



Parker's imagination filled in the blanks. "That son-of- a-bitch." she said softly. The gun lowered to waist level.



Jarod's eyes moved to the gun, then to the door, then to her face. "Don't take me back," he begged quietly. "Please."



Miss Parker thought he looked like a cornered rabbit. She steeled herself, "I have to. I intend to. My father will keep Raines away from you. You are going back." She pulled out her com-unit. "I've got him."



Jarod snorted. "Your father won't stop him. Raines won't stop." Jarod held his arms out slightly to indicate himself, "He enjoys this. He isn't done with me. You only delayed him...." An idea flashed through Jarod's desperation. Parker was the way to stop Raines.



Jarod's left hand shot out to grab Parker's right. She pulled back, resisting. She brought up her left hand. Jarod grabbed it. He forced her back farther, against the wall.



The impact hurt her ribs. "You can't have the gun, Jarod." she grunted. "I'll shoot you first."



"Yes. Do it." He held her hand, pointing the gun at his chest. Slowly, he forced the muzzle under his chin. "DO IT!" He wanted to die, to end this. Better her than Raines. They would be happy, and he would be free.



Jarod had both of Parker's hands squeezed against her gun. She was nonplused. She looked at his wild face, inches away from hers. This was not Jarod, not what he wanted, not what she wanted.



"Jarod, stop it! If you think that acting crazy will get me to let you go..." She changed tactics, from command to calming concern, "What are you trying to do, Jarod? What do you want? Let me go and we can talk about it." God, she thought, I sound like Sydney.



In response Jarod crushed her against the wall. He kept the gun's muzzle under his chin and tried to work his thumb onto the trigger.



Parker resisted the pressure. "Stop it, Jarod!" She needed something new to say. She needed Sydney.



"It's too late to stop. You called the sweepers." Jarod leaned his forehead against Parker's; he closed his eyes. She felt so cool. "They'll finish the job eventually." he whispered. "Won't you do it? I want you to do it." Jarod maneuvered both thumbs onto the trigger, over Parker's. He pressed down and waited for death.



He was so close, Parker thought he was going to kiss her while he forced the trigger. Where the hell was her brain? Take control!



She slipped left, hooked her leg behind Jarod's knees, and ripped the gun right. Jarod went over backwards. The gun went off and the bullet hit the ceiling. Parker's ribs screamed. She fought for balance, then tumbled over Jarod. Her knee landed on Jarod's abdomen, knocking the air out of him.



Parker wrenched the gun away from him and struggled to her feet. Jarod opened his eyes. He caught his breath then started to rise.



"Get up slow." Miss Parker backed away, every injury screaming. She aimed the gun at his chest.



Jarod obeyed. "It doesn't matter. I would rather it had been you." His voice was distant, resigned.



"Where do you think you're going?"



"Out to meet them."



"I have you here"



"You don't have me. The Centre has me. They will never let me go. It's over, they win." Jarod turned away from her.



"Stay here." He took a step.



"Stop!" He took another step away from her.



"Jarod, Stop! (Please)" He reached for the door handle.



"God-damn-it, Jarod, STOP!" Parker turned the gun muzzle up and hit Jarod hard on the back of the head. He dropped to the floor and lay motionless.



Parker stood above Jarod. She could not believe she hit him. That was inventive. It struck her that she might have killed him after she stopped him from killing himself. She prodded him with a foot; he did not move. She stooped down and checked for a pulse in his neck. It was racing. That was a relief. Parker looked at Jarod's face. It was covered in cold sweat. She could see his eyes moving beneath twitching lids. She noticed blood on her left hand. She found that the blood was from a small cut on Jarod's right palm. 'Kiss it and make it better,' she thought and leaned closer.



Her com-link buzzed and she jumped to her feet. "What?!"



"Are you all right? We heard a shot." The sweeper was sorry he called.



"Fine. I'll call you if I need you."



"Yes, Miss Parker." He closed the link, relieved.



Parker nearly threw the com-link across the room. She should have called in the troops. Instead she just blew them off. Because she believed Jarod? Yes. She believed Jarod. "Well, isn't this just great!" she said aloud. Actually, she found it easy to believe that Raines did this to Jarod. If Raines did, he must want Jarod dead. Not a surprise. And the sweepers let him escape so they could kill him. She regarded Jarod, "You win this round." Raines, you loose.



Miss Parker stepped over Jarod's unconscious body and slipped out the door, turning the lock behind her. She got a rag from housekeeping closet, to wipe the blood off the knob and wall. She washed the blood off her hand. Then she walked quickly around the corner and headed away from Jarod and the sweepers.







Part Seven





She had her story straight before two sweepers joined her. "Jarod jumped me. Knocked me down. He was acting crazy, out of control. I've never seen him like that. Did you see him?"



The sweepers shook their heads, "No."



"I got one off before he got away. The shot you heard. I missed, bad angle. Are all the exits covered?"



As many as we can."



"Keep checking. I'm going this way," she indicated left. "You two cover the other two halls." Jarod, stay where you are.



Miss Parker and the sweepers combed the back halls. They regrouped at the rear of the building. She sent the sweepers to check the upper floors. She would check the perimeter.



Miss Parker walked toward the side of the building farthest from the motel. The fence and highway were on her left and a broken-down brick building was in front. She walked quickly. As she was turning the corner toward the front of the building she noticed a man in dark clothes running toward the motel. "You just couldn't stay down," she mumbled. She grabbed her com-link, "He's out of the building. All of you, get back to the motel. Now!"



Sweepers came out of six different doors. Parker was already running after the runner. She wanted to get to him first, but she was not up to this marathon. Two sweepers passed her and the rest were gaining. Every breath hurt her side, every step jarred her neck. She had to let them go ahead. The fugitive had already disappeared into the Starlight. "I want him alive!" she yelled.



The sweepers were a minute behind him into the door. He was not in sight. They split up, two to a hallway. Miss Parker had just reached the door when Paul sighted their target toward the back of the building. He ran down a flight of steps; the sweepers followed. How does he know this building? Parker wondered as she ran the steps. The stairs ended in the basement. A door at the rear banged open before Parker reached the bottom. By the time Miss Parker got through the door, the runner was slipping under the six-foot fence. The sweepers were between him and her. Two sweepers stopped to take aim. Parker slammed into them. "I said ALIVE!" she shrieked. Paul aimed at the fugitive; Parker aimed at Paul. "You shoot him; I shoot you." she growled. Paul made a show of aiming high. The bullet was well over the target's head. He did not stop or even look back. He ran headlong down the hill to the highway.



The six sweepers stood at the fence looking down at their prey. They turned to Miss Parker. "Don't just stand there, half-wits. Go after him!"



The target was at the edge of the road. Dick and Gene rolled under the fence. Gene continued to roll to the bottom. Dick followed in a controlled slide.



Their quarry was halfway across the six-lane before the sweepers reached the berm. He wildly dodged through the bumper to bumper midday traffic. Dick and Gene were more cautious. They holstered their guns and started into the first lane.



The fugitive was almost across the far lanes when a state police car came to a halt inches from him. State troopers sprang from either door and grabbed him. They pushed him up against their car and cuffed him. He looked up at Parker.



"It's not Jarod!" she gasped. Miss Parker did not have to feign shock. She did not have time to feel relief or anger. The troopers had followed their prisoner's gaze.



"Get up here!" she yelled to the two on the highway. She grabbed Paul by the jacket, "You better hope those two have the brains to get back. Let's get the hell out of here."



Parker ran to her car in the near parking lot. The others pounded back to the motel lot. Dick and Gene were climbing.



Sydney was leaning on Miss Parker's car. "Get in." she said, breathless. He did, quickly and without comment. She jumped into the driver seat and started for the fence. Then she saw another car racing from the motel, toward Dick and Gene. Mr. Raines lurked in the passenger seat. The sweepers threw themselves into the back seat. Parker spun her car and accelerated toward the street.



The other four sweepers ran around the side of the Starlight. They dove into their car and followed Miss Parker down the street. Mr. Raines' car was close behind.



Parker noticed Sydney staring at her. "Your baby boy got away again!" she snapped. "Happy?"



Sydney was ambivalent. "You know I feel Jarod should return to The Centre, and you know why. This was, perhaps, more dramatic than I prefer."



"You don't know how dramatic, Syd. And I don't want to talk about." You would not want him back the way he is right now. Parker tried to organize events, and questions, in her mind. Jarod blamed Raines for his condition. That was certainly believable. Was Dr. Abraham involved? Had The Center, or her father, approved? What if Eric's suicide had nothing to do with his pretender abilities? Did Eric die because The Centre could not let him go? Would they let her go? And where was Jarod now?



They drove to the airport in silence.



***



Jarod regained consciousness half an hour after Miss Parker left him. He was disoriented and amazed to be alive. Solution D was wearing off. He was free. Parker's blow to his head saved his life, and left him with one heck of a headache. He drifted in and out of awareness for a while.



The drugs were out of his system by the time Jarod tried to sit up. He remembered the torture vaguely. He clearly remembered wanting to die at Miss Parker's hand. Death as an objective was a foreign concept. As an alternative to return to The Centre, possibly. But deliberately seeking death had never occurred to him before.



Jarod pushed himself to his feet slowly, bracing himself with the wall. He was dizzy but able to make his way out of the room. He wanted to be gone before the sweepers came back.



He checked the lobby. There was a police car in front of the building. He went out the side door. Fresh air helped his dizziness. He slipped into the motel, made a phone call, and slipped out again.



Carl Alison picked Jarod up several blocks from the Starlight. He brought Jarod's bag and the key from Mina's house. He made no comment on Jarod's appearance, just took him to the motel that Jarod had used before going to the Furmanskys' home.



On the way, Carl told Jarod about Gregory Horner's confession. The Alison family would be eternally grateful to Jarod for all he had done. Jarod asked about Todd, and apologized several times for leaving him. Carl dismissed his worries, assuring him that Todd came away without a scratch. Carl offered to take Jarod to his home. Jarod refused. They parted in the motel lobby.



Jarod managed to stay vertical until he got to his room, then crawled onto the bed. He wanted a shower but it was too much effort. He lay there, thinking. The last dose of drugs had worn off much faster than the others, surprisingly fast. Perhaps that was deliberate. Leave no trace in the corpse. He was not sure but thought any remnant vertigo was from the blow to his head. He wondered what happened while he was unconscious. Why had Parker let him go? He would have to ask her once he was sure he was thinking straight. Somewhere, between one thought and another, he fell asleep.



***



Miss Parker woke with a start; The Centre's jet was landing in Delaware. She had not intended to sleep but the pain medication made it impossible to stay awake.



Mr. Raines had ignored her since boarding the plane. He barely acknowledged her presence before that. Parker had a few questions for him.



She stepped between him and the door. "It's a shame you missed the capture. The sweepers told me you had an appointment in Pittsburgh. Was it worth the trip?"



"The meetings were very productive. My physician was quite helpful. He prescribed a treatment plan that proved successful in the past." Raines smiled. It sent a chill through Parker.



Raines started to push past her, she held her ground. "I hope it's beneficial for everyone."



He refused to look at her. The sweepers were getting uneasy. "The benefits are variable. Some side effects are quite interesting. But it seems to be a marketable product. It should be profitable, unlike other recent projects."



Parker crossed her arms. "We had Jarod," she said, "If your sweepers weren't such inefficient clods he would be on this plane."



Raines faced her, "The sweepers are well trained." He watched for her reaction, "Or are you saying your failure to capture Jarod is proof of your inefficiency?"



Parker nearly snapped back, then Sydney tugged at her arm, and she snapped her mouth shut. Raines disembarked. She followed with Sydney.



***



Jarod slept thirty hours without waking. His headache was manageable but he was sore everywhere else. Dick and Gene certainly knew their business. A long hot shower and four aspirin helped.



Jarod went to the bus station and retrieved his laptop and the DSAs. He bought the local paper. He was glad to get back to the bed. He stretched out gingerly; his body remembered every spot Dick had manipulated.



Jarod skimmed the paper for mention of yesterday's activities. Dr. Horner and Carl had the headlines. There was a picture of the Alison family looking happy, as Todd said "...always happy." The vandalism at the newly remodeled office building was mentioned without much explanation. Jarod's attention was caught by an article about a missing schizophrenic man, rescued from the middle of the highway. He was reunited with his family and receiving medical care. The man said several men and a beautiful woman were chasing him.



Jarod checked his messages and Centre information. The entourage had returned to Delaware. He picked up the phone.



***



Miss Parker laid Jarod's latest red notebook on her desk. Sydney had given it to her an hour earlier, markedly without comment. She knew by his grim expression that he was displeased to learn about Dr. Abraham's involvement with Eric Strand at the time of Eric's death. The information was far from shocking. Pretender abilities might or might not cause psychosis, but The Centre certainly corrupted physicians. She did not know if she wanted to tell Sydney about her personal experience with Jarod.



Parker picked up the plastic vampire teeth and started to put them in her mouth. She reconsidered. If they were like Jarod's other gifts they would turn her teeth black or become permanently attached, or worse. She dropped them in the wastebasket.



She picked up the Sherdon newspaper, and read about Jarod's success. Parker stared at the picture of the Alisons, they looked... 'happy.' She sighed. The police did not seem inclined to investigate the "vandalism." An anonymous tip, from The Centre, led them to believe it was related to recent incursions of gang activity. The mayor was already up on his soapbox, promising increased police presence. He also promised improved care for homeless people like the man from the highway. The its-not-Jarod runner had accused her and the sweepers of being demons out to steal his soul. Jarod probably echoed that opinion, wherever he was.



Parker put down the newspaper and leaned back in her chair. She adjusted position, trying to ease the ache in her back. There was pain medication in the drawer but it clouded her thinking so she refused to take it. She looked at the crystal prisms hung in the window. They were Eric's, then Jarod's, now hers. One of Jarod's better trinkets. They cast dancing rainbows on the far wall. Entrancing.



The phone rang. "What?" she asked softly.



"Good evening, Miss Parker. How are you?"



She straightened in the chair. "Jarod! I'll live. I've gained respect for trucks." In a quiet voice, "How's the head?"



"Fine. Thank you." he said smiling.



Parker also smiled. "My pleasure. Consider it payment for my injuries."



"Want to compare bruises?"



"If I find out you were just pretending, I'll hurt more than your head."



"I wasn't . And someone already did." They were both silent for several moments.



Parker spoke first, "You accused Raines. I assume he had help from the sweepers... and someone else?"



Jarod's voice was low, "This wasn't the first time. The process was well rehearsed." Jarod's voice broke, "I nearly gave him everything he wants." He faltered; cleared his throat, "Why did you knock me out?"



"I wasn't about to give him what he wants either. It will be my victory, not his."



"For a second there, I thought you cared."



Parker could almost see him smile over the phone. Her voice hardened, "Oh, I care, Jarod. You're my ticket to success. I intend to bring you in, my way." She paused; softening, "Are there any lasting effects." Are you alright?



"I'm just fine." Jarod's voice was harsh. "Whatever The Centre used, it works fast and leaves no trace. They will make a lot of money on such a perfect system."



She closed her eyes; massaged them with her fingertips. "I haven't told Syd. He might do something foolish."



"I doubt you have to worry," his voice took on a bitter edge. Sydney demands solid evidence before accusing others."



"You may underestimate him."



"Perhaps. In fact, it may be best to keep silent. I have no proof. Would the Centre have it any other way?"



She ignored the question. "I had Broots run a discreet check. Dr. Abraham is in seclusion. He cannot be reached."



"No surprise."



"Also, no accessible record of drugs designed to produce psychotic episodes



"Also no surprise." he sounded bored.



Her voice sharpened, "What do you expect me to do?"



"I expect nothing," Jarod said evenly.



"I'll do my job, Jarod. No matter what you want or expect." His disapproval stung her. "But I hate Raines too."



"The enemy of my enemy is my friend?" he asked in a lighter tone.



She grinned ironically, "Let's not go too far." and hung up the phone.



Jarod put down his phone. His smile faded.



He knew how Eric had died and why he became violent. It had little to do with he pretender ability and much to do with The Centre's inability to release anyone from their control. He would tell Sydney about what Raines had done to him sometime, not today, when he could be sure Sydney would not do anything 'foolish.'



Jarod gathered his things and returned to the bus station.







Epilogue





A beautiful autumn afternoon. The sky was clear blue, the sun warm, and the breeze light. The Midwest field was fill with well-dressed people and their equally well-groomed dogs. One of the last outdoor dog shows of the season was well run and well attended.



Judging was right on time at Ring 8. Ribbons were being awarded to the previous class. Several young women were standing at ringside. One spectator checked her program then looked at the lovely female Doberman waiting to enter the ring, Summit's Central Park In The Dark. Beautiful coat, perfect head and the longest, most elegant legs. The woman took notice of the handler. Tall, dark, captivating smile. She could hardly wait to watch the dog, and the handler, move around the ring. Looking at the program, she checked his name. Jarod Deville. Cute name; cute handler.



The ring steward called out, "Ready for Doberman bitches." He called several arm band numbers, then "Doberman number 27." Jarod smiled down at his dog. He showed the steward the number on his arm and strode into the ring. He flashed the judge a small smile and a nod; she reciprocated.



Jarod returned his attention to the dog as they prepared to run around the ring. "Come on, Parker, let's show them what you've got."







Move on to the sequel: Murder Of The Day









You must login (register) to review.