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Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
part XIV
By Rebeckah
part XIV
By Rebeckah
She trudged along the deserted back road in rural Connecticut angrily kicking at any rock that was large enough to connect with.
‘Damn piece of crap!’ She thought, looking over her shoulder to the car she stolen at Donoterase. It was just barely visible in the distance. ‘You’d think a multi-national corporation full of amoral, greedy crooks would at least invest a little in their mechanics. Cheap bastards!’
Her mood lifted when she finally topped the gentle hill she’d been climbing and saw a farm in the valley below her.
"A phone!" She breathed joyfully. "And a bathroom!"
With the hope of relief in sight Emily’s mood perked right up and she started down the other side of the hill with a spring in her step.
********************
Sydney and Broots were waiting for the Cleaners to leave Parker’s house before they went down there to look the place over for clues. Already three of the cleaners had been carried out of the house with various injuries, one had been placed in the Cleaner van, face covered with a handkerchief, so they knew he was dead, and the other two had been whisked off in the van that doubled as a Centre ambulance for non-critical injuries. The two men were grateful for the first time that the Centre had Cleaners as they watched Parker’s house being slowly made safe for humans.
"Just the same," Sydney told Broots soberly. "We’d better be careful when we do go in. Even Cleaners can miss things."
Broots wanted to ask Sydney if it was really necessary to search Parker’s house, especially after he saw a man walk out the front door with a writhing green snake in his hand, but the ringing of Sydney’s cell phone stopped him.
"Jarod?" He asked instead of his usual greeting.
"Um," the female on the other end answered uncertainly. "Is this Sydney?"
"Yes. May I help you?" He wondered who she was, he knew he’d never heard her voice before.
"Miss Parker slipped me your phone number earlier. I tried her number, but no one answered."
"Who is this?"
"Jarod’s sister; Emily."
"Good Lord!" Broots head jerked over to look apprehensively at Sydney. Sydney waved a dismissive hand and hoped Broots would realize that nothing was seriously wrong. "Are you still at Donoterase?"
"I don’t think I should answer that question." Emily said warily. "I’m not sure why Miss Parker gave me your number."
"Because I’m a friend of hers." Sydney answered with a growing smile. "She apparently thought that I would help you if you needed it and she wasn’t available."
"Okay." Emily responded noncommittally, her thoughts racing as she tried to decide whether or not to trust him. Sydney knew better than to press her and it was his patience, and the fact that he obviously knew her long lost brother, that decided her in the end.
"I’m in northern Connecticut. At a farm in a small town called Woodbury. Think you can help me? The car I used to escape went kaput."
Sydney’s smile grew deeper as he nodded. Parker still trusted him, or she wouldn’t have given Emily his number. The thought of beginning to make amends to her eased some of the heavy load of sorrow that had weighed him down for the past week.
"We’ll head out immediately. Why don’t you call this number again in two hours with directions. We should be close by then." He told her, motioning for Broots to wait when he would have asked Sydney what was going on. After another satisfied nod he folded the phone shut and turned to Broots.
"That was Jarod’s sister. Apparently she’s escaped Donoterase and Parker had given her a few emergency numbers just in case."
"You aren’t planning to take her home with you, are you?" Broots asked worriedly. "If the Centre find out you didn’t turn her in they’ll kill you!"
"No, Broots, I won’t be taking her home with me." Sydney assured Broots, much to the younger man’s relief. "You’ll be taking her home with you."
Broots nearly jumped through the roof as the meaning of Sydney’s words penetrated.
"What!? I can’t---- you can’t---- They’ll KILL me!" He finally squeaked.
"They’ll never know, Broots, now let’s run through Parker’s house and head out for Connecticut."
"But, why ME?" Broots protested, looking like he was ready to cry.
"Because you have an extra bedroom. I’ve only got the one." Sydney answered complacently. "Now get going."
*******************
"Son, are you sure you know what you’re doing?" Major Charles clung to the crash bars of the jeep as Jarod sped after the black Towncar.
"Get your gun out, Dad." Jarod said distractedly, he didn’t seem to have heard his father. "We’ve got to stop that car."
The Major sighed and pulled out his handgun.
"Son, we’ve got to hook you up with that young lady before you kill me!" He muttered, taking careful aim at the car in front of him. It took half a dozen shots, but he finally blew out the tire. He thoroughly enjoyed the look on Raines face when he gave the man a cheery wave as they roared past.
"Thanks, Dad." Jarod told his father, his eyes still fixed on the final Towncar as it continued to gain distance from them. Still, they chased it for another two hours before Major Charles called a halt.
"It’s pitch black tonight son, we can’t see the car in the dark, and we’re low on gas. Time to cut our losses. Maybe your friend at the Centre will be able to give us a clue of where to start looking tomorrow." He told his son gently.
Jarod stared unseeingly out the windshield, his face set in lines of worry, regret, and fatigue.
"I’ve got to find her, Dad." He said flatly. "I’ve got to!"
"We will, Jarod, tomorrow." He promised him.
"Tomorrow." Jarod sighed, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.
"Tomorrow never comes, you know. I’ve already waited a thousand tomorrows."
"We’ll find her, son, I swear." With that the Major bullied his son out from behind the wheel and began looking for a motel for the night.
****************
JJ was beginning to be very worried. Miss Parker wouldn’t talk to him, she just kept shaking and crying and she said over and over again,
"I killed him! Momma, I’m sorry, I killed him."
"Sir?" JJ looked up at the large man who’d rescued them. "We gotta do something for her."
"Let her cry." Sam told the boy, not unkindly. "As soon as we’re far enough away from our pursuers I’ll get her to a doctor."
"Please hurry." JJ asked him urgently. "It’s not good for her to be so upset. She’s going to have a baby."
Sam sucked in a lungfull of air and shot a quick, sideways look at the woman he’d just killed his career for. She didn’t look pregnant, but it wasn’t like her to be so distraught either.
"Next hospital, kid." He promised, worry coiling in his gut like a snake.
Parker felt their worry from far away. It was almost like there was a glass wall between her and them. Her mind was completely taken up with the memory of Lyle’s last cry. He’d been so hurt, so surprised, somehow his mental cry had made her think of JJ needing her.
‘Why didn’t I try to make a relationship with him?’ She wondered remorsefully. ‘Maybe if I’d tried things could have been different.’
"I think she’s in shock." She heard JJ tell Sam, and felt his warm little hand holding her cold wrist. She wanted to reassure him that she’d be okay, to give him a smile or a hug or something to ease his palpable worry, but it was just too hard to form words.
"Please, Miss Parker, please don’t be so upset." He pleaded earnestly. "I know he was your brother and everything, but there wasn’t anything else you could have done. He would have hurt you, I know he would have hurt you."
Parker turned her head and looked at the boy, her eyes still faintly dazed looking, as shivers racked her body.
"I know, JJ, I know." She breathed, trying to see him through the tears she couldn’t stop.
"This is all my fault." He berated himself. "If I’d stayed with the Major and Jarod----"
"No, JJ, not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong." She managed to say, patting his knee feebly. "I shot him, not you."
With that, her attention turned inward again and she wondered if she would ever feel warm again.
"Hurry, Sam." She heard JJ tell her old friend. "She could miscarry from all of this, and that would be too much for her."
‘Momma!’ She screamed in her mind, pain and guilt pushing her dangerously near the edge. ‘Momma, why aren’t you here? I need you, please Momma, I need you." But, as always, there was no answer to her pleas. Momma was with Lyle now. Maybe he would be happy now…
***************
In the basement of St. Anne’s Cathedral in downtown New York City a woman paused in the act of comforting a crying child, his face bruised from a drunken father’s rage. Her hair was snow white and would have fallen to her waist if it hadn’t been gathered into a knot at the nape of her neck. Her face was surprisingly unlined, though, and her soft blue eyes were clear and contained a wealth of strength. Every day she dealt with the uglier side of life here in St. Anne’s shelter for victims of domestic violence. She knew pain, in all of it’s various guises, but her eyes were peaceful and serene, bringing comfort to the battered women and children who turned to her for help.
Just now, though, her eyes were dark and troubled. Earlier today she’d felt a wave of unease, though she had no idea why. Now, she felt a nagging sense of restlessness. Someone needed her, she could feel that, as she so often did, but who? And more importantly, why?
