27 by TLM

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Day 2

"Morning, Miss Parker. You look tired, but I have some great news."

Miss Parker clutched her forehead. Opening her office door to Broots' happy expression was actually not what she liked to call a good morning.

"What is it?"

He didn't seem to notice her lack of excitement or perhaps he was just used to the nonchalance, "I have a very tangible hit on Jarod in Denver. Seems a Jarod Boykins was working at a music shop and exposed this guy for embezzling from the public school system's music department."

"Cry me a river," Miss Parker muttered.

"Anyway. The local newspapers printed this picture of him conducting at a middle school band concert only two days ago," Broots held up the scanned article. A picture of Jarod gleefully swiping a baton across the air for a group of mid-pubescent kids showed a clear profile view of the pretender.

"That's definitely our Mozart."

"Want me to call for the jet?" Broots asked eagerly, clearly pleased with his success.

"No. Send Lyle," she sat down at her desk, flipping through her mail.

Broots seemed slightly taken aback, "B-but this is a great lead, Miss Parker. I'm sure we could find something. A clue to his next-"

"Yes, a clue to his next clue I'm sure. He's obviously gone already, so why bother? Send Lyle."

"You don't know he hasn't left yet. There is a possibility he's still there. The Jefferson high school concert is in two days. Maybe he's waiting for that and-"

"Broots, what did I say?" she snapped her fingers, silencing him. He nodded and walked away, clearly disappointed.

Unfortunately, she did know he'd left already. The arrogant son of a bitch had been in her house just last night. Not that she could say that out loud of course. Let her idiot twin prod around Jarod's last lair for a red notebook with the same article taped inside it that Broots had already found.

Jarod had finally left her to sleep at 2am last night. She'd given in to him like she always did in the end. Now she didn't know what the hell she was doing, following his little plan so accordingly. Go to work, keep up appearances, and leave early for "personal reasons" because he had something important to show her.

As usual, the phone rang.

"What?"

"Beautiful day isn't it?"

Parker pinched the bridge of her nose. "Honestly, I thought our conversation five hours ago was good enough, Jarod. What do you want now?"

"I just figured a day at the office wasn't really a day at the office untiI I called with something cryptic and tantalizing," he replied, the grin so ridiculously evident in his voice. She could hear the wind rushing in the background and could only imagine the little boy in the man's body and leather jacket as he cruised down the highway wearing sharp sunglasses.

"I heard a rumor you'll be crashing the Jefferson High band concert, in which case you better catch your flight to Denver a-sap. I wouldn't want you to miss it."

"You always have to make helping you so difficult don't you, Miss Parker?"

"I'd just hate for the kiddies to be disappointed," she clutched the phone tighter to her ear, her eyes constantly flickering to and from the door suspiciously.

"Yes, you and children do mix together quite well," Jarod laughed.

"Call me Mary Poppins."

"Who?"

"I was under the impression that this phone call had a purpose to it," she rolled her hand over in the air, coaxing the man who was God only knew how many miles away. As soon as she put her hand back into her lap, Sydney's head appeared in the doorway and she held up a silencing finger.

"Actually," Jarod paused, raising the pitch of his voice humorously. "It didn't."

And there was the click.

"Damn him," she whispered, flipping her phone shut. "What is it now Sydney?"

"Was that Jarod?" the older man asked.

"You know it sort of sickens me how you light up like a Christmas tree just at the mention of your lab rat," Miss Parker said, rising from her seat and crossing her arms as she stood closer to him.

"Well was it?" Sydney persisted, unfazed.

"No," she lied. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he turned around to study a picture on her wall as he continued. "I just found it odd that you turned down the chance to catch Jarod in Denver."

"And you assumed something was wrong with me because I decided not to jump through Jarod's hoops au fun today?"

Sydney faced her again with a slight smile, "Something like that, Miss Parker."

"I just don't see the point. I'm sure Jarod's long gone by now, so let Lyle go pick up the mess. My cleaning days ended a long time ago, remember."

She was the picture of strength and confidence in her tailored gray suit and high stilettos and one could never argue with her for long.

"I thought maybe there was something more urgent on your agenda. Something pertaining to your mother perhaps?" Sydney pressed.

"Why? Is there something about my mother you would like to tell me?" she snarled.

He raised his hands in surrender, "Not at all. Birthdays often instigate thoughts about one's mother, one's life. But I'm glad to see that you're fine."

"Peachy," she grumbled, scanning the memo on her desk about the Centre's new cafeteria options. The thought nearly made her vomit, but she didn't alter her gaze as Broots burst through the door panting. "Breathe, Broots."

"I- yeah," he did breathe. "Lyle's coming. He thinks there's something weird going on if you won't go to Denver."

"Broots, did you tell Lyle I didn't want to go and that he should instead?"

Broots looked from Miss Parker to Sydney desperately, "Well yeah."

"You moron. Why would he go if he knows I see no point in it?" she slapped the memo back onto the desk.

"You d-didn't say I shouldn't say, I mean, I didn't think-"

"You're right, you didn't think," Miss Parker growled off-handedly.

Sydney cut in, "Miss Parker, Broots didn't know."

"Would you two just get out? Honestly, I have a migraine the size of Texas and it's drilling me like an oil rig from the inside out. Neither of you are helping matters."

"Let us know if you need anything," Sydney murmured as he ushered Broots out of the room with him.

"I'm sorry," Broots said, jumping slightly at the sight of Lyle standing outside the door. "Oh, um hi."

Lyle ignored him, directing his attention to his sister. "What's the deal with Denver?"

Sydney and Broots stood hesitantly at the doorway, waiting for her explanation.

"I'm not going," her heels clicked against the floor sharply as she took slow steps toward her twin, speaking in a high pitch as if she were breaking it down for a child. "I feel like hell and the only thing that could make me feel any worse is picking apart our latest failure to capture Jarod. I'm taking the afternoon off. Have fun staking out your concert. I hear the piccolo player's a real riot."

There was hardly a chance to answer her as she physically removed the breathing bodies from her office with abrupt shoves. As soon as she closed the door, she took a deep breath and leant against it, relishing the calm.

*****

Six hours later Miss Parker was pushing the door to her own home open, thankful that Jarod wasn't there yet.

 

"You're home early." Jarod stepped around the corner in jeans and a black T-shirt.

She cringed, "I was sick of people."

"I see," Jarod said, clearly not seeing at all. "Well as I told you last night, I needed to pick up a few things. So I went to Dover to get some items concerning your mother from one of my safe deposit boxes."

"Let me guess, things you borrowed directly from her own safe deposit box," Miss Parker ventured, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah," he answered a little timidly. "One of them. Anyway, these specifically."

He pulled a small and crumpled manila envelope out of his back pocket and placed in her hands. Miss Parker lifted the flap gently. Any possession of her mother's was subconsciously treated with the utmost of delicacy by the both of them. Carefully, she pulled out a faded photo with a crease down the center. In it stood a white house with green shutters. There was part of a great weeping willow visible on the right side of the front yard and just beyond that she could see the blue of water. It was clearly springtime in the photo as flowers were bursting with color throughout the property.

"What is this?" Miss Parker asked distantly.

"I'm not sure," Jarod answered in a soothing voice, reaching for the envelope in her other hand. "But this must be its key."

He held up a gold key and she cocked her head, studying it, "Sorry genius, but that's too small to be the key to a house, which is where by the way?"

"Um, I'm still working on that."

"So you don't really know anything."

"That is completely untrue, Miss Parker. I do know that this house is on the road White Pine because I enlarged the photo and was just barely able to enhance a street sign in the reflection of this window here." Jarod pointed to it, "Now see the problem is that when I search White Pine, I get about 265 streets in America, give or take a few."

Miss Parker rolled her eyes, seeing the beginnings of another dead end.

"But," he went on. "The majority of those hits were in the same state. Maine. Which makes sense of course seeing as the white pine is the state tree of Maine."

"Naturally," she returned sarcastically. "But if these were my mother's then Maine does make sense."

Jarod nodded, "Exactly. So I've isolated the possible locations to thirty eight."

"Thirty eight?!" Miss Parker repeated.

"It was the best I could do. There are a lot of waterfront properties in Maine and there wasn't much else to go on."

"No way, I refuse to patrol the suburbs of Maine for every white house on every White Pine road. What we need to do is find the one person who might actually know what the hell we're talking about and maybe even what this key unlocks."

Jarod squinted his eyes with a slight smile, "Ben."


Day 29

The tech room seemed much calmer than usual, probably because the prize had been reclaimed. Turning a corner, passing through computer techs as he did so, Sydney bumped into Broots.

"Oh hey Syd what's up?" Broots asked, crunching on a Funyun. Even he had a less panicked demeanor.

Sydney clutched his colleague by the elbow, "Not here. Walk with me."

"Oh God," Broots said, following. A 'walk with me' talk was never good news.

When they'd entered the white marble hallway, Sydney crossed his arms and spoke softly, "I spoke with Jarod yesterday and he believes that Mr Parker is lying about Miss Parker vacationing in Europe. Someone else captured him and it clearly has him distressed."

"But," Broots eyes chased each other and his voice grew higher and higher in pitch. "Why would he lie about something like that? His own daughter? Who did catch Jarod? And, and why cover it up?"

Sydney punctuated each of Broots' questions with a nod, "These are all the questions we need answered. There must be an important reason for whoever did succeed in catching Jarod to not take the credit for it. Normally I'd expect whoever was able to do it to flaunt their victory. It just makes this all the more peculiar."

"I'd hoped we were done with this kind of mess, at least until Jarod escapes again," Broots sighed and then realized what he had said. "I mean if he does, which I mean of course he probably won't. Definitely won't, not with all the new security. God."

Sydney ignored Broots' panicked looks around the corners of the ceiling for any device that may have captured his careless statement.

"We must start by finding Miss Parker. Do whatever you can, Broots. I've tried calling her with no luck."

"That would definitely be too easy," Broots mumbled.

"I'll be attempting to make further contact with Jarod. Maybe he knows more than he was able to tell me yesterday," Sydney paused and the two men stopped walking as he put an arm on Broots' shoulder. "Let me know if you find anything. I'm worried about her."

Broots' wide eyes mirrored Sydney's words and he nodded in response as Sydney broke away and disappeared into the elevator with a chime. Broots' shoulders slumped as he turned the other way, retracing his steps back to the tech room.

*****

Someone was calling his name. Electric (no, anything but electric) signals were persistently yapping in his head for him to respond, but he didn't want to. Sleep was safer. He could only have been here for a few days, a week tops. It was difficult to tell time when all sleeps felt like five minutes and interrogations, re-education, always felt like brutally stacked hours. It was probably safe to say his internal clock was skewed.

This voice was softer than Lyle's stinging one, so Jarod allowed himself to peek from beneath his lids. There was mercy; it was Sydney.

"Please, wake up, Jarod."

Jarod sat up begrudgingly, his muscles protesting adamantly. He rubbed the tingling forearm he'd been using as a makeshift pillow.

"I need to know who brought you in. If it wasn't Miss Parker then who, and how?" Sydney asked urgently, pretending he didn't notice the fresh bruises on Jarod's skin.

The pretender looked up at Sydney from the ground, but didn't respond.

"Jarod, what's wrong with you?"

After a pause, Jarod answered, "Nothing. Just another date with Lyle's jumper cables. I guess I'm feeling a little out of it."

"I'm sorry, Jarod. I wish there were more I could-"

"We're not alone, Sydney," Jarod warned with a clear of his throat.

"But my questions, I have-"

"Camera," he hissed.

Sydney nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets, feeling the camera's gaze on his back. On his back.

With a sudden idea, Sydney's lips formed the question he wished to impart.

Was it Lyle?

Jarod's eyes sparked when he realized what Sydney was doing. Grateful for the lessons on lip reading he'd received soon after escaping the Centre, he answered his mentor's question with a hesitant and barely discernable nod.

Before arousing the suspicions of anyone watching, Sydney decided he must speak, "We're going to try some exercises in the sim lab tomorrow if you're in a well enough condition."

Was Miss Parker there?

Another nod.

"Well enough condition," Jarod huffed. "I'm not the one you should be informing."

Was she hurt?

"I'd still like for you to mentally prepare yourself. It's been a while since you've performed."

Jarod's focus shifted from Sydney's silent words to his spoken ones, "Performed. Interesting word choice."

"Jarod, please. You know what I mean."

Sydney repeated. Was she hurt?

"I don't know," Jarod breathed, allowing his hand to catch his forehead as it sunk in distress.

"You don't know what, Jarod?"

The younger man sighed and stared back at Sydney with enough intensity and desperation that it was obvious to which question he was answering.

Sydney nodded, "I'll see you in the morning then."

"How many days," Jarod begged. "How many days have I been here?"

"This is the end of your second." Sydney knew that if he'd already lost track of time, the psychological tortures the Centre was so fond of were beginning to weigh on his prodigal, or perhaps something else.

Jarod's face fell and he slumped against the wall as he muttered to himself, "It was only two days ago. And it was all my fault."










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