Part Seven

Jarod

Since my practice was regularly closed Monday afternoons I usually spent the time running errands and basically catching up on things I didn’t manage to do during the rest of the week. Today, however, I had different plans. I wasn’t sure whether I had been meaning to tell my wife about them at lunch, but then again, naturally, I had not. Val had told me she’d sent Parker home to sleep- a decision I completely supported, so I was a little ahead of my schedule. Stopping by in a little store in town I contemplated the display for something appropriate when the shopkeeper approached me. Her round face reminded me of a ripe apple and her little chubby hands seemed to be moving constantly. Mrs Simmons was hard to place when it came to her age, but it didn’t really matter, since her cornflower eyes were always sparkling with delight when she saw me.

“A present for your wife?” she asked in a cheerful tone and the metaphorical hand in the cookie jar came to mind.

“Well, actually... no. Something for a friend.”

“A lady or a gentleman?” she asked brightly and I felt like storming out of the shop since she was not only very charming but also one hell of a gossip. If I agreed on it being a lady, the whole town would know by tomorrow morning. And Parker would rip my head off.

“No- a gentleman, actually,” I said, feeling foolish right away.

“Ah,” she seemed a little disappointed since besides all her cheerfulness I knew pretty well that she was one of the many people who disagreed with my choice of wife.

“Then maybe you’d like to go with this cigar box? It is one valuable little thing but since it’s you, we can do something about the price...” She winked at me but I shook my head.

“No, thanks. That gentleman is actually too young for that kind of thing.”

She looked flustered for a moment. “One of your patients then?” Automatically turning into the direction of toys, she hustled through the shop at an amazing speed that did not seem to match her size and figure.

“No again. My wife’s pregnant and I would like to buy a little something for the little guy already.”

There she had her gossip and my eyes widened slightly. How could I have been so dumb? She would probably tell everyone and Parker would kill me if everyone knew.

“Oh, how far along is she?” Besides all the cheer, I could hear that her happy tone was faked. Another baby on the way certainly was not a sign for an impending divorce.

“Three months,” I told her proudly.

“Well then it might be a little early for a present.”

“Gotta run anyway. Thank you,” I told her, backing out quickly and leaving her behind looking suspicious.

Looking at my watch I found that I was still early but was eager to escape the prying eyes of the town and unlocked my car to set off towards my destination. Fifteen minutes later I arrived at a small bar just at the outskirts of town that was nearly empty on a workday afternoon. The barkeeper was ancient and half-blind and looked bored when I entered the gloomy room.

“Whatcha want?” he barked, blinking into my general direction through lopsided, thick glasses that didn’t seem to do much about his eyesight.

“A cup of coffee please.”

“‘kay, bringin’ it right over.” The old man turned around slowly and scuffled towards the coffee machine in the corner of the room. I chose the table farthest from the door and looked around. There was only one drunk-looking customer who was sipping a clear beverage and stared into space. I drummed my fingers on the table nervously and had to withdraw them with a start when the patron dumped the coffee in front of me, liquid spilling all over the saucer.

“‘m sorry, boy,” he croaked and made his agonizingly slow way back to the counter while I was left cleaning up the mess with a used-looking napkin.

“Charming place, charming service,” a very well-known voice sounded from just behind me and when I looked up, I looked into the mischievously smiling eyes of Zoe.

Val

“Your cholesterole-levels will skyrocket at that rate, Val,” Will said, frowning.

“Newsflash, darling. I don’t care.” I took a hearty bite of my bacon sandwich just to spite him. “Now tell me what you found out,” I munched through it.

He looked as if he was about to slide the file across the table for my inspection, but then hesitated and instead pulled it closer towards him. I cocked an eyebrow at him just so he’d know that I was aware of the fact that he didn’t think me capable of not staining the paper with grease. As if years of practice hadn’t made me perfect in the simultaneously eating and working department.

“Well, there was no way of extracting any DNA from the remains of the bones, but the hair we found matches Donald’s.”

“So you’ve got a match.”

“We do.”

“Any word on the mysterious Freddy Kruger?” I asked and could tell by the way the corner of his mouth twitched, that he disapproved of my nickname for the suspect.

“Nothing. Nobody around town seems to have come across a man fitting that description.”

“Surprise.” I wiped my fingers on a napkin and gave the remains of his chicken salad a sly look. “That looks nasty, Will. Is Marla still bugging you about your eating-habits?”

Marla’s and my private little war had been an ongoing source of pain in the ass for him right since the day I had first met her. I couldn’t stand the little prick and I never would.

“Val, don’t get started...” he began, but I felt like teasing my brother and I hated to pass on an opportunity of commenting negatively on his wife.

“What you’re eating there looks like something Parker would eat.”

“Speaking of which, she seems to have behaved oddly around Marla last weekend.”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “You’re sure she just couldn’t take Marla’s annoying her about the cheek of her to work in a man’s job?”

Will closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Val, I do not share her opinions and you know that. But she is my wife and I love her. And you know how she is. She believes that you should not stress a pregnant woman. She wouldn’t have...”

“To her, dear brother, Parker would never fall into the category of ‘pregnant women’. She will always be a man-eating career bitch to her.”

“Parker was acting erratically. You know I like her a lot, but Marla told me she practically fled the kitchen when she touched her arm.”

I shook my head again, feeling as if I wasn’t doing much else these days.

“She’s under a bit of stress. It seems that her daughter has been drawing a person she calls Kenny just like Donald has. She is concerned that she came into some sort of contact with him.”

Will looked sympathetic instantly, probably glad to get off the topic of his wife.

“I will look into it.”

Miss Parker

Baxter’s house looked as if it had been beamed here right from the Hollywood hills. All glass and rounded white sixties surfaces, it sat in the middle of a green garden that inexplicably grew palm trees in the middle of an east-coast September. Mentioning my name had taken me past the wrought iron gate faster than I had expected and so I parked in the driveway and leaned back into my seat for a moment. What the hell was I doing? In only three days I was supposed to do my very best to get a jury to stick him in jail for the best part of the next ten years, so why was I visiting? Because I had rambled nonsense before sinking into pregnancy-induced unconsciousness?

“What are you doing to me, little one?” I asked, resting my hand on my stomach and noticing for the first time that despite my very poor eating habits, the blouse I was wearing felt a little tighter than usual. Another thing that had escaped my attention due to other occupations of my mind. I needed to get this case off my chest, I decided, in order to get some of my sanity back- if that was still possible.

I got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Although adrenaline and a fair share of caffeine were buzzing through my system, I felt exhausted. Despite my whole bravado, I was a person who really needed her sleep, especially during times when hormones were acting crazy. Out of a seldom impulse I whipped out my blackberry and quickly typed a message to Jarod reading simply “Love you”, then slid it back in my purse and approached the front door.

I was not surprised that it was opened upon my coming to a halt in front of it, but I certainly wouldn’t have expected Baxter himself to greet me instead of the butler I had expected. He was wearing a loose white shirt and linen slacks and was carrying a martini in his hand. If I hadn’t been so flustered, I would have laughed out loud. He was such a cliché.

“Ah, Miss Parker.” His voice was warm and deep when he shook my hand and then grabbed it almost tenderly, to lead me inside. The hall was impressive, the ceiling impossibly high for a house that looked so small from the outside. The house only consisted of one floor which had a certain air of elegance due to the high ceilings and exquisite furnishing. Everything was white and beige with a few splashes of color like a painting in a deep red at the far side of the hallway.

He led me into a large sitting-room whose bay windows overlooked the town up from the hill.

“May I offer you a drink?” he asked, his hands pausing in midair above the liquor cabinet, but I declined politely so he gestured towards a couch whose design was as simple as it must have been expensive and took a seat across from me.

“As much as I enjoy your visit, I must admit I am very curious as for what I owe it to,” he said, his words accompanied by a disarming smile.

Suddenly I wasn’t sure how to begin, what to say at all, actually. Was I going to ask him point-blank? Would he even answer? I opened my mouth to speak but the decision was taken from me by a sharp pain in my abdomen. Gasping, I instinctively leaned forward and pushed my hand against my middle. I wasn’t aware of Baxter’s hand on my should until he spoke to me.

“Miss Parker? Are you alright?”

I took a deep breath and straightened up again slowly. All thoughts about the case were momentarily blown from my mind and even Baxter’s being a criminal I was up against by law didn’t matter.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, trying to determine whether there was more pain to come. Baxter took my hand. A very fatherly gesture, I noticed, dumbfounded. How could it be with the relationship our jobs had forced us into? A little unwelcome voice inside my head reminded me of another adversary relationship I had once been forced into. But this was different, wasn’t it? The DA's office wasn’t exactly an evil corporation and Charles Baxter was everything but an innocent fugitive.

“Take all the time you need. I am going to get you a glass of water.” I felt him move from the couch but kept my eyes tightly shut. There was some discomfort left in my abdomen but no more cramps were following. Baxter returned with a glass of water but my hand was shaking too hard to hold it, so he wrapped his fingers around mine and supported my hand while I drank. Something about his taking care of me struck an odd chord in my heart and although I wasn’t fooled, I felt a rush of warmth inside me. I very obviously had always had a problem with the fact that my father had not been much a paternal figure, so I was probably exceptionally susceptible to this kind of affection.

“Is this related to your fainting last week?” he asked and I could hear traces of concern in his voice. I reminded myself of the fact that I was in the house of a well-known criminal who, despite all his gentlemanly behavior, had come into contact with the man who had killed Donald. But what could he do about the information? Be careful, Parker, I warned myself, but something else was overpowering me, leaving me shocked and enthralled by my reply: “It is. I’m pregnant.”

I was surprised to see his relief and only understood when he spoke: “So technically, the symptoms derive from a happy circumstance. I was worried you might be suffering from a life-threatening condition.”

He smiled and touched my shoulder lightly. “How far along are you?”

“You’re supposed to hate me, remember?” I blurted out, somewhat ignoring his question.

The look on his face was far from surprised and I felt foolish right away.

“Why would I, Miss Parker? You are just doing your job whereas I was doing mine. And you hate me neither, do you?”

No, I really couldn’t say I felt anything even resembling hatred for him. Usually, I liked to try out how far I could go with a man until he either got angry or gave in to the humiliation and threw himself at my feet. This time I didn’t care, which was a small wonder in itself.

“You’re right,” I admitted, somewhat grudgingly as this seemed to be a simple principle of life that I hadn’t grasped while he had done so with a natural ease.

“I know this is weird, but while I was in love with your legs from day one of the trial, I found you very stunning as a person when I finally bothered to listen.” What might have sounded macho with another guy, came across as a compliment when he said it, and I felt confused again.

“So how far along are you?” he repeated his earlier question in a conversational tone.

“Thirteen weeks,” I said. “I don’t get much rest these days with the case, so things aren’t going too well.”

“I got you right out of bed last night, didn’t I?” he shook his head regretfully. “I was afraid it couldn’t wait until morning.” He smiled and offered me more water, but I declined.

“Mister Baxter, what I really came here for...”

“Please, call me Charles.”

“Charles, do you remember what I said before I fainted at the closing?”

He grimaced, which reminded me of my father with a pang of sadness. As bad a father as he had been, I had still loved him and missed him, even if there wasn’t much to miss.

“Actually, I didn’t. I was too busy cursing my lawyer.”

I couldn’t hide my wicked grin. “Why did you hire him then?”

“I wonder. I guess he was the first who chased my ambulance. With all due respect to your profession, Miss Parker, I usually prefer to stay away from lawyers if I can.”

“Your lawyer said I mentioned something about a place called the Centre.”

I could already feel the rush of blood inside my ears while I hid my hands in my lap to avoid him noticing how badly they were trembling. I hadn’t mentioned the Centre to anyone other than Jarod during the last five years. Sydney, Broots and I, as the former pursuing team, had silently and mutually decided not to mention the place and our inglorious past that was connected to it.

“The Centre.” he said the words almost as gravely as if he did know what they really meant. His expression was unreadable, as if set in stone which was another thing that reminded me of my father. “Why would you mention that?”

“Yes”, I said. “Why would I mention it?”

Ten minutes later I was back in my car, watched by Baxter who had repeatedly voiced his concerns about my driving in what he called my “state”. He had told me that he had never engaged in any business with a place called the Centre and also didn’t know whether I mentioned it. Had Steve Christian tried to make a fool of me, perhaps?

But he hadn’t looked at me properly while he had said it and he had never asked what the Centre was. Suddenly my phone rang and as I answered it, Christine was telling me that my husband was cheating on me in a dirty bar outside town with a woman with curly red hair.

Jarod

Zoe’s and my lips abruptly lost contact when an ear-shattering noise sounded very close to my left foot and I jumped to my feet, my reactions still finely tuned to any impending danger. Danger had arrived in the form of a shattered glass, thrown by what had first appeared to be a glassy-eyed drunk lady in a trench-coat and an old fashioned hat but now turned out to be my wife’s best friend, Christine. Who was beyond furious.

“You mean bastard!” she yelled, her eyes darting around the room in search of something else to hurl at me. The barkeeper was already making his slow way over to remove her from the premises, but probably wouldn’t be very lucky since Christine was not only strong but angry.

Tremendously so.

“Christine, please. It is not what it looks like!” I employed the world’s oldest and dumbest words to explain a situation like this one.

“Oh REALLY?! Were you rehearsing for a goddamn play you little BASTARD?” Christine shouted. “I told her you weren’t cheating! I told her you would never do such a thing! I was going to prove to her that your acting weird was just due to some surprise for her and you... you’re kissing that little ferret!”

That was when Zoe tried to say something, but was simultaneously shushed by me and Christine. I knew Zoe had a temper, too and there was no need to make a bad situation worse.

“I am going to leave now and I will tell your wife that she married a goddamn RAT!”

And out she was. I remained standing, a hand over my face, listening to the patron’s gibberish and Zoe’s impatient replies.

“Zoe! For god’s sake!” I looked at her angrily and saw her fold her arms defensively in front of her chest. “I told you this was over a long time ago.”

“Oh, but I was good enough to help you with that little matter your wife isn’t supposed to know about? Great, Jarod.”

She rose and gave me a mean stare. “We accomplished it together and now you go running back to her, if she will still have you. I, personally, hope not. I can see that they hate her!”

“Zoe!” But she was already out the door.

The patron shook his head and gave me a toothless grin. “Got quite the knack for chasing away them ladies, eh?”

Linda Hanson

I was sitting in the comfortable chair I had used to nurse Donald in when he had been a baby and held on to his teddy bear when my neighbor came storming past me, tears in her eyes and her blackberry in hand. She didn’t stop for condolences, which I was secretly grateful for. As long as no one said anything, I could prevent to myself that my baby was just at school like the other kids and that I would remain here on the porch, waiting for him to come home.

I knew that I would wait forever, but the tears wouldn’t come - as much as I wished them, too. Miss Parker dropped her keys in front of the door, cursed and picked them up again, touching her stomach. So the rumors were true. Mrs Simmons had been round, telling me the latest gossip in town bringing another dish I wouldn’t bother to identify but throw right into the trash. I just wondered what made her cry. What could be bad enough to make someone cry if I didn’t have tears to cry over the dusty remains of my little one? I dug my fingernails into my forearm until I drew blood, then gave a dry sob.

Jarod

Miss Parker was in the bedroom when I came home and I walked in slowly, checking whether she was awake. Her eyes were firmly closed and her legs slightly bent but I knew she wasn’t asleep. She was pretending again since I knew that even if she fell asleep in her clothes, she would always take her watch off. She usually rested her head on her right hand and so it would be in the way.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and addressed her softly: “Parker. Please talk to me.”

The mascara was slightly smudged, so I was sure Christine had called her. She wouldn’t let me see her cry- I had learned that on one occasion almost five years ago, so she tried to pretend she had been sleeping.

“What?” she asked, very close to how she still answered her phone.

“I know Christine called you. Let me explain.”

Her gaze didn’t waver, she didn’t look as if she was going to accuse me, or beg me or cry. When she spoke, her voice sounded as distant as she seemed: “I had stomach cramps today, Jarod. I need to rest. Please leave me in peace.”

I cursed the bad timing- why would this have to blow up in my face right the day the stress was finally taking its toll on her pregnancy?

“Are you okay?” I asked, reaching for her forehead in a doctor’s automatism, but she moved away from me.

“I’m fine. You’ll need to pick Sammy up from school.” She closed her eyes again, turning her back at me.

“I’m sure Christine told you I was kissing Zoe, but I wasn’t. She was kissing me and before I could do anything about it, Christine intervened. It must have looked consensual to her, but it wasn’t. I swear.”

She sat up slowly, her blouse crumpled and her hair ruffled. “Why would you be seeing Zoe anyway?” Curiosity seemed to have gotten the best of her for which I was eternally grateful.

Still, I would finally have to admit to her what I had been keeping a secret from her for the last five years.

“Parker, Zoe helped me find my family.”

She swallowed and her eyes widened. “Your family?” she said feebly.

“Yes. I had clues but I couldn’t follow up on them. I... the fishing holidays with Sydney? I never went there even once. I’ve been searching for my family two weeks a year, Parker. I love you so much and I am so happy we have Sammy, but I still couldn’t let it rest. I didn’t want to tell you to not make you feel as if you weren’t enough for me.” Once I was at it, words were pouring out of me and I couldn’t stop them, but I didn’t have to. Parker was listening intently, although her expression was still unreadable.

“Two weeks a year weren’t enough and this one time I met Zoe by chance. I know I could have hired a private investigator, but I wanted someone I knew personally, someone I knew couldn’t be associated to the Centre in any way. She agreed to help and do the traveling for me. She finally tracked them down, Parker. Finally! She gave me their whereabouts today and I wanted to thank her again. Then, when I told her how much she still meant to me - as a friend - she must have misunderstood and tried to kiss me.”

I was suddenly out of breath and felt ridiculously relieved when I found that Parker’s expression had softened. She reached out and touched my face.

“You finally found them!” she said.

“So you believe me?” I asked.

She smiled a secretive smile. “I know you’re not lying.”

Miss Parker

For the first time I was actually thankful that I possessed this inner sense since I knew with some clarity that he was telling the truth. I put my hand over his heart and pulled him into my arms.

“I am so happy for you,” I said, hoping that it wouldn’t sound hollow, because I did feel happy for him, but for myself I felt downright terrified. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped, Broots could have helped.”

Of course I was dreading his answer, but I needed to hear it in order to crush my ridiculous hope that my fears would not prove to be justified. He put his hands on my shoulder as he always did when he tried to calm me down and somehow I knew that - like me - this way of him touching me always reminded him of the night I had thrown him out so he wouldn’t see me suffer because I simply couldn’t take it.

We both knew that this time I wouldn’t be able to prevent him from seeing it.

“I didn’t know how they would react if they learned that I was married to the daughter of the man who took me away from them.”

“You mean to the merciless huntress who has been trying to track you down and tried to shoot you more than once,” I said brusquely; he nodded. “Then how did they react to that?”

My heart contracted at the torn look in his eyes. I knew he wanted to be on my side but that he also couldn’t deny who I was or had been.

“Zoe says my father just frowned but my mother and my sister...” he trailed off and I closed my eyes briefly. This was not going well. “She says they are apprehensive. You prevented me from seeing my mother that day and your brother tried to kill my sister... They...”

I decided to put him out of his misery by just stating it. “They hate me.”

“Parker, I...”

“It’s okay,” I said softly. “I am a bitch. We both know that.”

“You used to be...” he trailed off again, as if trying to find the right words, then continued: “... you were difficult, you still are, but you’ve never been a bitch.”

I smiled despite how bad I felt: “You truly see the best in people, Jarod.”

“I love you, Parker. Please don’t forget that, but I want my family to be part of my life and of Sammy’s.”

“Of course. They will be, Jarod.”

And I would be an unwanted part of theirs. I had always known that this day might come one day then why did I feel like my happy world was suddenly crashing at my feet?

TBC