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Miss Parker

It is a well documented fact that people’s characters cannot change from one minute to the next. Well, it had turned out that even five years filled with love and comfort don’t always do the trick. While my manners had generally improved and I was finally able to openly show affection, I was still suspicious of everyone and everything. Call me paranoid, but after meeting Christine for our first drink together, I’d gone straight back to the office and checked her out. You have access to quite a few venues for that when you work as a prosecutor. Except for an astounding number of speeding tickets, my search hadn’t turned up anything even mildly incriminating. Of course I hadn’t left it at that and had asked Broots to call in a few favors from friends, but he’d come up with the same result which had left me feeling foolish and eager to keep it a secret.

So while I was finishing up some paperwork at the kitchen counter, nursing a glass of orange juice, I couldn’t help glancing at my watch every two minutes. Jarod was never late. And if he was, he always called or sent text messages. Jarod was quite a fan of text messaging really, which sometimes annoyed me to no end. Now I found myself staring at my Blackberry for long periods of time, then snapped out of my stupor.

“What the hell am I doing?” I slid off the stool and walked towards the fridge to look inside at the leftovers from dinner I had kept for Jarod. I had made a chicken salad which, by the looks of it, didn't get any better. I swallowed deeply and slammed the door shut. Truth was, I hadn’t really been talkative lately and when Jarod had inquired, I had simply told him he was paranoid.

How could I tell him the truth? He had snug a psychologist’s business card into my bag for god’s sake! He thought I was freaking out and while I was well aware of the fact that he was worried, I had no idea how to calm him without him having me committed.

Finally I heard the key in the front door and gave a relieved sigh. Jarod walked in and gave me a warm but somewhat tired smile.

“Hi, Jarod.”

“Hi.” He hugged me and planted a kiss on my cheek. “How has your day been?”

I shrugged. “Good. I had a busy day in court and I didn’t faint. They’re still looking for Donald. There’s no sign of him.”

Jarod nodded. “I heard. Have you been over to Linda’s?”

“Not yet.”

He cocked his head and brushed a strand of hair from my face. “You should really go and see her.”

“I know,” I replied, but dreaded what I would be in for me upon entering that house. After the little episode with Marla the previous night, I had decided to try to hold back a little for now. Still, I knew that I could not and would not put it off any longer. Having Jarod with me would also be a safety measure in case anything went wrong.

“Why don’t we go over tomorrow?” I asked, lingering for a moment, wondering whether I should tell him about what had happened at Marla’s house.

“You look worried,” he told me, and kissed my lips gently. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it, pulling him closer towards me. Another thing that had changed about me during the last five years was that I actually allowed myself to feel safe with him. Due to the unfortunate circumstances surrounding our falling in love, we’d had a rocky start when it came to trusting each other. Now I couldn’t have felt safer anywhere in the world than in his arms.

“Do you have any dinner left? I’m starving.” he asked, when we finally broke apart.

“Why don’t you just say ‘woman, make me a sandwich’?” I mocked him, to which Jarod reacted with a look of shock. He, too, had changed during our marriage, had become more streetwise and, along with his daughter, more used to the wonders of a normal life. They had discovered Easter Bunnies together, had learned how to decorate a Christmas tree together, had fed ducks and climbed trees. Jarod had lost much of the naivety he had possessed when he had never experienced a life other than in the Centre or on the run. Still, he regularly fell for my irony. Somehow he just couldn’t get used to it and often thought he’d hurt me when I had just been teasing him. Like now.

“I’m sorry. You know I would never...” he began, but I stopped him with another kiss.

“Just kidding,” I whispered.

“I’ve changed my mind. Can I have dessert first?” He winked and tugged at my shirt.

“I told you, you weren’t allowed candy anymore. I don’t want you to become overweight!” I told him sternly, but this time he got the joke.

“Ha ha.”

We had progressed to the kitchen and I handed him the bowl of salad I had saved for him from Sammy’s greedy hands. As usual she had left most of the vegetables and gone for the chicken right away.

“It’s edible!” he exclaimed, an old joke that we had regularly made since during our first year together most of the meals I’d cooked had been either burned or too salty.

We sat down on the sofa, something we only did when Sammy was in bed since we made it a point to have family meals together. While Jarod munched through the salad with the same healthy appetite he would have had for a burger, I looked out into the garden towards the fence that separated it from the Hanson’s. There was a light on in the living-room and I could make out the shape of someone standing at the window, looking in my direction. Jarod was right. I really ought to go over and see whether I could help Linda.

“You okay?” Jarod asked and put his plate on the coffee table. He lifted my legs and put them over his, then kissed me again.

“Something’s still bothering you,” he said. “Am I correct?”

I decided to go for as much of the truth as I believed him fit to handle.

“Well, it’s about Donald. He’s a sweet kid and the whole thing happened right under our noses. What if it had been Sammy?”

“I feel the same way,” he said. “But you know Will. He’s a great sheriff and if anybody’s able to find him, it’s be him.”

I nodded and looked into his kind eyes. He wanted the best for me and Sammy and for everyone in this town. It was no secret that Jarod was a well-respected, even admired person in the little suburban town we lived in. Although the capital of the United States was just a 45 minutes drive away, we lived in a close-knit community that relied on authorities like their doctors. Like Jarod.

Way back when we had first moved here, we had reviewed our options. While we were both not used to freedom, to being able to making our own choices or to settling down even, we had spent hours eating ice-cream and talking about possible jobs. Due to his being a Pretender, Jarod could have taken every job he’d ever wanted. He could have been a rocket-scientist, a neurosurgeon or a professor at a University but he had chosen pediatrics over all of these things. A besotted father and a hero to most children, he was the local star. People at the supermarket greeted him, old ladies blushed when he walked past and kids drew tons of pictures that he had plastered the walls in his study at the practice with. People adored him.

I was an entirely different story. People generally can’t deal well with complex personalities. What I had often been told by Sydney was, that people were confused by the many opposites my character consisted of: I was a loving mother and a strict attorney. I loved my husband but I enjoyed making other men feel worthless. I appeared completely confident to the point of arrogance, but I shied away from people because I was afraid they’d hurt me.

So I was kind of polarizing. Some people chose to ignore my softer side and labeled me a bitch, while others turned a blind eye to my bitchiness and regarded me as some sort of superwoman who had no problem juggling motherhood and a prosperous career as well as a perfect marriage. Most people, however, had chosen the first stand in it.

I was grateful for the few people who saw the real me. Val, for instance or - of course - Jarod.

“Don’t you ever wish you could help?” I asked Jarod now and suddenly felt a rush of affliction when I imagined Donald scared and crying somewhere. Jarod looked stricken for a moment, then took both my hands in his.

“I know what you mean, Parker. I used to be a Pretender who spent all his time helping people. I still do now, just differently. I am a doctor, helping people is my job, but I have a normal life now. I don’t want to go back to the old, dark days. I just want to be with you and Sammy and our new baby and live peacefully.”

I nodded. Aware of the fact, that he’d never wanted anything else than a family. So had I -somewhere buried deeply beneath layers of denial, anyway. I would have left things to the police if I hadn’t believed so strongly in the fact that I would soon know things they did not. “When is your next appointment with your doctor?” Jarod asked, obviously trying to steer me away from the dreaded topic.

“Tomorrow morning, in fact. Dr Summers is always very understanding of working women and schedules weekend-appointments. I suspect she wants that new Porsche if you get my drift.”

“Syd is going to take Sammy to the zoo tomorrow, right?” he asked.

“Yep. She’s been excited about it all week.”

“So how about I’ll drop in at the office to get some paperwork done and I'll meet you at Dr Summer's later?”

I leaned forward and breathed in his comforting scent. “Perfect. Eleven o’clock. Don’t be late.”


Jarod hadn’t been there for the general examination which I didn’t mind, but when we came to the ultrasound, I began to wonder what kept him. I looked at my phone for what seemed like the hundredth time but he had neither sent a message nor called.

“I am sorry, Miss Parker,” Dr Summers, my stunning-looking blond doctor told me. “We can’t wait any longer for your husband. There are other patients waiting.”

“Of course,” I sighed in reply. “He’s probably just stuck in traffic.”

“You can show him the picture later,” Dr Summers said brightly. She was tiny, slim, sweet, had blond curls, wore pink sweaters and I liked her- believe me, nobody had been more surprised than I.

“Everything’s looking good so far.” A little heartbeat was pulsating on the screen. “Oh yeah, he’s all healthy.”

“He?” I gasped, all cliche. Dr Summers’ rosy face turned pale.

“Did I tell you? Oh my god, did you want to know or did I just spoil your sweet surprise?”

During moments like this one, I always remembered why I liked her- she was incredibly funny. Involuntarily, of course.

“It’s okay.” I told her. “I did want to know.”

She wiped a drop of imaginary sweat from her brow. “Thank god!” She stared at the screen while she moved the ultrasound across my stomach. “He’s big enough for his age... and look! He’s moving around.”

“Are you sure everything’s fine?” I asked anxiously, well aware of the fact that I sounded like a hysteric.

“The baby’s fine, anyway.” Dr Summers finished her examination and handed me a tissue to wipe the gel away from my stomach.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Miss Parker. You look edgy to me. You have lost weight since I’ve last seen you and you are pale as a ghost. You should also take care of your blood pressure. It’s far too low.”

I sighed, far too used to that lecture.

“You’re rolling your eyes, Miss Parker, but I am serious.” I hadn’t been aware of the eye-rolling part. “You need to treat yourself better. The little one is not yet affected but if you put too much stress on yourself, he won’t like it either.”

What a cute way of putting it. Suddenly I was glad that Jarod hadn’t shown up for undisclosed reasons. I wouldn’t have liked him to witness someone else giving me the lecture I regularly received from him.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I tried to explain. “I work less, I try to eat more and I try to relax, but...” The truth was, that I couldn’t. But how do you tell your doctor that pregnancy gave you some sort of sixth sense? She would probably think I had finally snapped and confine me to my bedroom in hopes of that curing me from the burnout syndrome she would very likely diagnose me with.

Dr Summers sat down next to me on the examination table. A curious gesture for a doctor that should have been inappropriate, but actually felt comforting- as if we were friends instead of doctor and patient.

“Look, Michelle. I really can’t force you to take better care of yourself, but I’d strongly advise you to. You’re thirty-six years old which doesn’t exactly make you old for a pregnancy, but you’re not in your twenties either. Plus you have a history of ulcers and judging from that scar on your back whose origin you refuse to tell me about, your body has been through a lot. Cut down on the stress and try to be a little bit more sensible if you want that little boy to stay as healthy as he is.”

I swallowed dryly when she finished her speech with a comforting hand on my arm.

“I know you’re trying hard, Michelle.” I still didn’t like my first name being used. Even Christine had given it up after a while since I had cringed every time she’d addressed me by it. “But you have to try a little harder.” She paused slightly, as if the next part was difficult to voice even for her. I braced myself. “Is it possible that you have psychological issues?”

I rose abruptly and headed for the door, disgusted at the very thought of breaking down in my doctor’s arms and sobbing about how my father had never loved me, my mother had been murdered in an elevator and my psychotic twin brother had tried to get into my pants? When hell froze over. Maybe.

“Miss Parker!” I was glad that she had returned to the usage of my last name which was the only reason I paused at the door. She approached me and handed me the sonogram picture I had left behind. “Don’t forget this. And I’ll see you in two weeks.”

I nodded, numbly, then turned to leave.

Linda Hanson

“Here’s someone to see you.” Jeff addressed me with the same subdued voice he had constantly been using since Donald had been taken. As usual, he avoided my eyes, too. While I should have found some comfort in his presence, it only seemed to double the feeling of dread that had become my constant companion.

“Is it the police?” I asked, fighting the feeling of hope that instantly rose inside me. I couldn’t bear another disappointment.

“No, it’s Miss Parker.” I was both disappointed and relieved. A visit from the police could mean both that he had been found alive or dead and there was nothing I had ever feared more than the latter. I sat up and rubbed at my eyes, aware of the fact that wouldn’t help. Actually I had stopped caring for my looks four days ago, when Donald had vanished. I pulled my blanket around me in order to hide the hideous pajamas I was wearing and waited for Miss Parker to come in.

I was glad that she wasn’t wearing a suit but black pants and a simple gray pullover. She always looked elegant, but I would have felt even more hideous compared to her, had she been wearing one of her posh outfits. I had no idea whether I liked Miss Parker or not. She was always friendly, but there was still something threatening about her. The weird mixture of adoration and dislike that I felt whenever we met lead to me behaving in an upbeat and overly cheerful way that I suspected she found weird. Still, I couldn’t help it.

She walked in and sat down on the chair next to the couch I was resting on without being invited. I was grateful for that since the necessary polite words that would usually have been exchanged somehow felt out of place.

“Now, how are you feeling?” she asked, her voice lowered and sympathetic.

“How am I supposed to feel?” I asked, not really meant as a rhetorical question. The mere thought of losing one’s child was so frightening that I had never explored it before it had happened to me. This situation was a little too much. At times the pain and fear became so overwhelming that I stopped feeling anything altogether.

For a moment Miss Parker looked as if she was going to take my hand, but then remained motionless.

“I’m so very sorry,” she said. “I can only imagine how you’re feeling.”

“Losing Donald is the worst thing I could have ever imagined,” I felt tears welling up again. As if I hadn’t been crying enough over the last few days. “The police said that after 48 hours it isn’t very likely to find him alive.” I pressed my handkerchief to my eyes and felt the tears soak into it.

“Maybe they’ll still find him,” she said with a weird tone in her voice that I could not identify. “Maybe...”

I interrupted her harshly. “If you’re here to get my hopes up, you can leave right away! I have been trying so hard to get acquainted to the thought of never seeing him alive again!”

There was a short, shocked silence. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“No, you’re not! You’re just here to deliver platitudes in order to feel better. You probably even brought food over, didn’t you? Some stupid casserole or a fucking cake, huh? As if eating would help!”

She looked taken aback, but not hurt by my comments. It looked as if not much could hurt that woman. Was she that heartless or just used to open hostility?

“No, I did not bring food,” she simply said.

I should have tried to be grateful for her being here and trying to help, but I just couldn’t. All the anger and hurt that I had been feeling towards Jeff threatened to come out and hit the wrong person. If you’ve been crying and winding yourself up for three days and three nights, however, you’re not very skilled at controlling your emotions.

“Oh great! So you’re doing everything right! Congratulations. But have you got any idea, Miss Parker, any idea how I feel?!” I couldn’t stop myself and the words came pouring out of my mouth in an incredibly loud and nasty voice that did not seem to belong to me.

She simply sat in silence until I had finished my rant and looked straight into my eyes.

“I actually do,” she finally said in a soft voice that differed considerably from the one I had solely hear her talk in up until now. “I lost a baby once.”

And there I was, having believed that everything in this woman’s life had always been perfect. She and her husband were like lovebirds still after years of marriage, her daughter was pretty and smarter than any of the kids at school, she was both beautiful and sharply intelligent, great in her job that she seemingly effortlessly managed next to spending heaps of quality time with her family and nobody would have dared to treat her disrespectfully- the thing I envied most about her life. And she had lost a baby? I had never seen pain in her eyes before, but it only flashed quickly, then disappeared. She looked as if it had slipped her and she already regretted having revealed something so personal to me.

“When?” I asked.

“Look , this is not about me. I am here to comfort you, not the other way round,” she said a bit brusquely, but somehow I wanted to know. Everyone had been round to try to comfort me and no one had succeeded. I actually wanted to hear the story, whether it was because I didn’t want to think about Donald for a moment, or whether I was just curious.

“No, tell me.” I said and she immediately averted her eyes. A curious sense of contentment tingled inside my stomach. Was I satisfied that I had made her feel awkward for once? Since usually it was the other way round? I felt sorry immediately. She was hurt and I knew it.

“There is not much to tell. I was pregnant, my boyfriend died and I couldn’t deal with the grief. It’s just that I know how you must feel. It’s different when it’s just a miscarriage, but it hurts to think about what might have been if the baby would have been born.”

She touched her stomach without noticing, then her gaze hardened again.

“Can I use your bathroom, Linda?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling more empty than before. I had caused someone else pain in order to escape my own. I had exploited someone’s weakness just because I had been so excited to have finally discovered one in a woman I had believed to be invincible. Sinking back into my pillows, I cradled Donald’s favorite teddy bear and buried my face in it.

Miss Parker

The sudden nausea my conversation with Linda had caused slowly subsided as I clung to the sink in the bathroom and stared at my reflection. Why had I just told her that? I straightened up again and washed my hands, just to have something to do.

I wasn’t good at giving comfort or at relating to other women in general. I felt really sorry for Linda and I felt guilty for the fact that I was trying to avoid my sense and, consequently, finding Donald. Dr Summer’s words echoed inside my head and I touched my stomach. I couldn’t bear losing another child, but I also couldn’t bear the guilt. Lose- lose situation, I thought bitterly.

A moment later I walked down the hallway to return to the living-room, when the half-open door into Donald’s room caught my eye. I looked around but only heard muffled voices talking from downstairs. Quietly and feeling like the intruder that I was, I crept into the little boy’s bedroom. The walls were painted in a cheerful yellow and the carpet was light-blue. All the toys had carefully been arranged on the shelves and the bed was neatly made. It looked as if someone had cleaned the room recently. I picked up a teddy bear and wandered towards the small desk in the corner. A box of crayons was sitting on it and I was reminded of the drawings Miss Jenkins had insisted I took for Linda. I rummaged through my handbag until I found my diary into which I had placed the folded sheets.

I unfolded them and gasped. Both of them featured a blond person with spiky hair and a black and white top. Kenny? I hurriedly began to sort through the stack of drawings that sat on the table and found most of them portraying the same person. A jolt of panic went through me. How much of a coincidence would it be for Donald to draw another little girl’s imaginary friend? The only possibility was, that Kenny was not imaginary at all, but a person in flesh and blood. A killer, maybe? A killer that had been into contact with both Donald and my very own daughter?

 TBC










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