---

It was, Jarod knew, a matter of when, not if; he counted the days and displayed no surprise when, shackled and handcuffed, he was escorted by three deputies to a 20X20 concrete enclosure and deposited, roughly, into a metal chair.

The eldest deputy unlocked one cuff and briskly closed it tightly around a metal bar that had been bolted to a long, low table.

"I didn't ask for an attorney," Jarod snarled, knowing precisely which lies littered the particular avenue that the Centre had traversed to make contact with him.

"Lo and behold," the deputy drawled bitterly, "one has been provided for you. Be sure to send a thank-you card to the bleeding hearts at the ACLU."

Jarod snorted his discontent; he had, in fact, been an admirer of the ACLU for years and sent the dedicated folks there millions of Centre dollars each year. He scowled openly at the retreating deputies, and met his attorney's gaze.

"What? No decontamination team, Miss Parker?"

"As much as I'd like to dispose of those assholes for you, Jarod, we couldn't get in front of this thing. You may not be aware of this, genius, but when a beautiful young woman is missing it attracts national and international attention, and everyone is eager to find someone to blame and make them pay, and today, Jarod, you're the someone. Talk," Parker demanded.

"Talk? About?"

"Where is she?"

"Are you-- is this a joke?"

"Does this look like my joking face? What did she do to bring you all the way down here to hell's small intestine? Who did she hurt?"

"She'd never hurt anyone."

Parker nodded. "Fine. Who hurt her?"

"I didn't come here to pursue justice for anyone. I was passing through, and she invited me to dinner. They think I hurt her. There are no other suspects."

"Everyone in this town is a suspect," argued Parker. "Don't forget that. Why did you come here? Don't leave out a single detail. And, Jarod: start at the beginning."

"I- no, I can't. I need to be out there searching for her."

"I probably don't have to tell you that it's not a good look to insert yourself into the investigation. Are you eager to be sent to prison?"

"As opposed to being hauled back to a Centre prison by you?"

"I didn't bring Kleenex so spare me the tragic tale, Jarod. Say what you will about the Centre, but bear in mind that the boys in the tower value your life, and that's a helluva lot more than can be said about those losers out there who were joking about chaining you to a truck and placing hypothetical bets on how many miles you'd struggle to stay on your feet before you were entirely, and I quote, skinned clean like a twenty-two point whitetail. You're expendable here, Jarod. Worthless."

"Need I remind you that the Centre killed me once?"

"Raines killed, and then immediately resuscitated, you," corrected Parker tersely. "He didn't de-flesh and disembowel you on a Georgia highway. This is a death penalty state, and you can bet your smart little ass that when they kill you it'll be for keeps. I'll leave if you want me to, but I guarantee you that when your appeals are all denied and the death march begins you'll be soiling your pants and praying to every god there is to go back to the Centre and work with Sydney again."

"How is Sydney? Does he know I've been arrested?"

"No, he doesn't and I intend to keep it that way. Broots worked his mojo on Sydney's television, radio, and devices. He'd want to be here for you if he knew. "

"He needs to rest. I agree. You and Broots made the right decision. Thank you for that."

"You can thank me when we're back in Delaware," Parker returned hotly, and prompted rather impatiently, "The Beginning, Jarod. You said you were passing through."