Chapter 4
"When you fall like a statue
I'm gon' be there to catch you
Put you on your feet, you on your feet"
from Phillip Phillips' Gone, Gone, Gone
Safely hidden among the pine trees, Jarod took a moment to plan his final approach.
He'd worked as a real estate agent once (to expose a shady broker who'd conned an old woman into selling her family farm to a greedy developer), so he was well aware of the "location, location, location" mantra. The popular New England saltbox-style house before him boasted two of the most popular features homebuyers wanted: it sat on a piece of ocean-front land and offered gorgeous views of the water. He could imagine highlight sheets about this property had also made mention of the several large picture windows, skylights, deck, and balcony, hoping to lure someone who wanted to enjoy the natural setting to the fullest.
Miss Parker had never struck him as a nature-lover, but he could see how this location and this house would appeal to her. All those windows would let her see trouble coming a mile away, whether it be from land, sea, or air. A lone swimmer could drop anchor far out and make it undetected to the beach, but none of the tumbled rocks on the shore were large enough to provide adequate cover once he was on land. There was no large area where a helicopter could set down. And the long, winding country lane leading to the house made it impossible for a convoy of Centre-issue vehicles to sneak up on her.
Forewarned by Kim about that narrow no-outlet way in, Jarod had left his rental car parked at an abandoned gas station out on the main road and traveled the rest of the way on foot, moving steadily but cautiously through the woods, careful to give the few houses he encountered a wide berth. He intended his visit to be a complete surprise.
He needed it to be.
He and Miss Parker had known each other most of their lives. They'd been friends, enemies, lovers … but now? All he knew was that he couldn't just stroll up to her front door and knock. She probably still believed he was under the Centre's control; she wouldn't exactly welcome him with open arms.
Enough skulking around in the bushes, Jarod decided. He hadn't come all this way after all these years just to stare at her house and worry about what her reaction would be when she saw him. Whatever it was, he could handle it.
Still, he couldn't make himself just nonchalantly walk across the small back yard. He did a half-crouching jog from the woods to the deck, lightly springing up onto the redwood slats. A faint whiff of smoke drew his attention before he reached the sliding glass door, and he turned back to take a closer look at the portable fire pit situated on a semi-circular area of gravel just beyond the deck. He squatted near the edge and noted the fresh pile of ash within the charred metal container. Someone must have enjoyed a campfire last night.
Jarod smiled slightly as he recalled his first campfire experience many years ago … and the beautiful Argentinian woman with whom he'd shared it.
Pain exploded on the back of his neck and he barely managed to keep himself from tumbling forward into the fire pit. Down on all fours, he cast a woozy glance back and up at his assailant and saw the high heels, the long legs clad in skinny black jeans … and the gun used to cold cock him now aimed squarely at his head.
"Jarod?" Miss Parker gasped.
Now that she could see he wasn't an intruder, Jarod figured it was safe to get up. He started to rise but she tightened her double-handed grip on her weapon and snarled, "Don't move!"
Well, he hadn't expected a warm welcome, but…
"Of course, they sent you."
"No one sent me," he said quickly. "I'm no longer under the Centre's control. If you'll just let me explain –"
"Hands behind your head," she interrupted harshly. "Now!"
He obeyed, wondering why she was reacting in such an extreme manner. As he laced his fingers behind his head, he swayed slightly. He was still unsteady from the blow she'd given him, and he hoped a strong breeze wouldn't topple him over the edge of the deck. "Please, Miss Parker…"
"What the hell kind of game is the Centre playing sending you here? Did they think that would make me more cooperative?" Her eyes were a fierce blue rivaling the cloudless sky behind her. "You make one wrong move, Jarod, and I swear I'll put a bullet right through your shoulder. Even wounded, you'll still make a great bargaining chip."
Now he was really confused. Even when she'd been hunting him and trying to return him to the Centre years ago, she'd rarely threatened to shoot him. Something was very wrong.
Miss Parker's cell phone rang. Never taking her eyes off him, she kept the gun steady in her right hand while she used her left to retrieve the phone from her back jeans pocket and lift it to her ear. She offered her usual terse greeting. "What?"
After listening for only a few seconds, she said, "I don't have time for your babbling right now, Broots. I'm a little busy. I've just caught the Centre's Golden Boy and I have a prisoner exchange to set up."
Prisoner exchange? Who did she want to free?
"I don't care if it was one of Syd's crazy patients who attacked him… what? Slow down, Broots, you're not making any sense." She frowned, and her eyes shifted a fraction to the right, but Jarod didn't seize the opportunity to go for her gun; he was too caught up in trying to decipher what was going on from just her side of the conversation.
"No, you and I both know that's not possible!" Her gaze returned to him, but he could tell her focus was elsewhere. There was an undercurrent of fear in her voice. "Proof, what proof?" She listened for a long moment and when she spoke again, she sounded like she was having trouble forming the words. "But if that's true… that means that he could be the one who…" All of the color drained from her face.
As her knees buckled, Jarod lunged forward to catch her, but his awkward position and still-throbbing head slowed his reflexes. Miss Parker fell, striking her head against the edge of the patio table as she did so.
Jarod knelt beside her. She'd landed half on her back and was unconscious and bleeding from a cut on her forehead. He snatched up the phone she'd dropped. "Broots, what's going on?" he demanded.
"J-Jarod, is that r-really you? W-where's M-Miss Parker?"
"She fainted and hit her head when she fell." Jarod tenderly brushed the hair away from her face to more closely examine the laceration. "But I think it's just a surface wound. What the hell did you say to her?" Almost as an afterthought, he picked up her gun, which had landed under the table and tucked it into the back waistband of his jeans.
"W-will she be okay?"
Jarod took a deep breath and forced himself to stay calm so that Broots wouldn't feed off his anxiety and become completely incoherent. "I'll take care of her, Broots. Which would be easier if I knew why she just threatened to shoot me and hand me over to the Centre."
"W-well, the last time we saw you, you were working for the Centre, so she probably thinks you had something to do with the kidnapping."
"Kidnapping? What are you talking about?" Jarod asked sharply.
"Her d-daughter. K-Katie was taken last night."
"What?" Jarod pressed the phone tightly against his ear. "Broots, listen to me," he said urgently. "I had nothing to do with that. You have to believe me!"
"I do believe you."
The straightforward response surprised him. "You do?"
"Because I think I know who did do it. That's why I called." He paused, and even his silence sounded miserable. "I think Lyle took her daughter."
"Lyle is dead," Jarod said slowly, with a sickening sense of déjà vu. "You were there, Broots, when Miss Parker shot him five years ago. You saw him die."
"I know, but right now I'm looking at security footage from the Gage Institute which shows a very much-alive Lyle talking to Sydney two days ago!"
It felt like an icy fist closed around his heart, and he could only stare down at Miss Parker, perversely thankful that she had knocked herself out and gotten a brief reprieve from her nightmarish reality. Now he knew why she'd looked like she'd seen a ghost before she'd collapsed. Her evil twin brother had just returned from the dead… again.
For the first few seconds after waking up, Miss Parker believed it was a day like any other. Then she quickly realized she was not in her own bed but was instead lying on the futon in the spare bedroom she used as her office.
Recent events came back in a rush: Katie was gone, Jarod was back, Lyle was alive.
Remembering all that had the same effect as being doused with a bucket of ice water. She sat up quickly – too quickly – and grunted as she felt a stabbing pain above her right eye.
"Careful, you have a nasty bruise from your fall."
Jarod?
She stared at the man sitting at her computer and wondered if she was hallucinating. Just how bad was her head injury?
She gingerly felt around the sore spot on her forehead and discovered a small square bandage had been applied. Definitely something Jarod would do; so he really was here. She leaned back and closed her eyes. "What happened?" she asked weakly.
"You hit your head on the patio table when you passed out."
"When I…" Now she remembered. Broots had told her Lyle was still alive and that he had proof of that incredible fact. The horror of what that meant – that her sick freak of a brother was probably the one who'd taken Katie – had overwhelmed her. She'd felt flushed, heard a roaring in her ears, and then everything had gone black.
"You should drink something."
Miss Parker opened her eyes and noticed the bottle of water on the leather ottoman in front of the futon. Being careful to move slowly, she leaned forward and picked up the bottle. As she opened it and took a sip, Jarod went on, "I know you probably have a terrible headache, but it would be best if you avoid aspirin or ibuprofen for the time being. I don't think you have a concussion, but it would still be a good idea to keep any blood thinners out of your system."
"Whatever you say, doctor." She heard her slightly mocking tone and instantly regretted it. She should be grateful that Jarod could be a doctor – or anything else – when the need arose. At least he'd assessed and treated her injury on the spot instead of insisting she go to the hospital. That's the last place she wanted to go, especially after spending most of the night there with Ben to have his head wound checked out. The E.R. doc had ordered a CT scan, which thankfully came back negative, but Miss Parker had spent a few miserable hours waiting with nothing to do but worry about what was happening to Katie. Ben's repeated apologies had done nothing but irritate her and then make her feel guilty for becoming angry with him. He hadn't even wanted to go to the hospital in case that would put Katie in more danger, but she wasn't going to let him risk his health. To keep the authorities from getting involved, they'd had no trouble concocting a story that Ben had hurt himself falling off a step ladder while changing a light bulb.
After she'd finally gotten Ben settled at home this morning, promising to call him as soon as she had any news on Katie, she'd come back here and spent the next few hours second-guessing her decision to keep the police out of this situation. Warning the victim's family to steer clear of the cops was a common demand of kidnappers, but it was also the Centre's modus operandi. Having worked most of her adult life for that shady think tank, Miss Parker had developed a habit of avoiding the authorities, but right now she felt like she would welcome help from any and all sources if it meant bringing her daughter home safely.
She drank some more water and felt the fog in her brain start to clear.
Which meant the man in black – his usual tee shirt and jeans – was not a mirage projected by her sleep-deprived brain. He really was here, right in the same room with her, calmly working on her computer.
Wait, he was on her computer? "Hey, how did you get on there? That's password-protected…" She trailed off as she remembered she was talking to a genius.
"Broots told me how to get into your e-mail."
Right assumption, wrong genius. Of course, her techie friend had figured out her password. She supposed it served her right for not changing it often like he was always telling her to do.
"He said he was going to send you the security footage from the Gage Institute," Jarod added, clicking the mouse a few times then frowning at the monitor.
She was up and moving towards the computer. She tried to remember exactly what Broots had said on the phone. "Is that the hospital where Lyle has supposedly been a patient all these years?"
Jarod was staring intently at the screen. "Well, according to this, he was there two days ago."
Miss Parker leaned forward to see the image better and had to grab the back of the chair to steady herself. It wasn't just the after-effects of her fall that had her feeling suddenly off balance.
Jarod quickly stood so she could take a seat. She would have normally rebuffed such chivalry, but right now she was too intent on what was on her computer to care. She sank into the chair and watched in disbelief the video playing in front of her.
Gone was the slick businessman persona, but even in need of a haircut and a better wardrobe – he was wearing a plain white tee shirt and gray sweatpants – the man on the screen was easily recognizable as her brother Lyle.
The man who liked to torture and murder. The man she thought she'd killed – twice. The man who probably had just kidnapped her daughter.
Now faced with the proof Broots had mentioned earlier on the phone, Miss Parker again felt a sickening flush that made her thankful she was sitting down this time with the bottle of water still in her hand. She quickly took a reviving sip of the cool liquid. The room's only window was open, but it faced the front of the house, and the air coming through the screen was not as refreshing as the sea breeze that regularly blew in from the back.
After a few more swallows and a couple of deep breaths, she could focus on the recording again and pay attention to other details. She noticed that Lyle was sitting on an ornate wrought iron bench along a paved path, a well-manicured expanse of green grass behind him with several mature shade trees on the far edge of the lawn.
As she watched, another man joined him on the bench. It was Sydney.
She sensed Jarod stiffen behind her and knew he was as shocked as she was. No doubt he felt the betrayal more keenly, since Sydney had been like a father to him. Why would a man who claimed to care for them both be sitting and having what appeared to be a pleasant conversation with their sworn enemy?
Jarod abruptly stepped away, crossing to the other side of the room, as if he needed to distance himself from the ugly truth that had just been revealed. Miss Parker couldn't tear her gaze away from the horrible scene and was relieved when the clip suddenly came to an end and the screen went black except for an arrow prompting her to play the video again. She had no intention of doing that.
"Broots told me that Sydney is in the hospital."
She detected no sympathy in his voice, but she knew that even after this disturbing revelation, he still felt a bond with the man who'd raised him at the Centre.
Right now all she felt was anger towards Sydney, but she redirected it at the true villain. "It's a good bet Lyle's the one who put him there." She paused and had to swallow hard before adding, "And the one who took Katie."
Jarod's tone was softer as he commented, "She's beautiful. Just like her mother."
Miss Parker glanced over at him and saw he was holding a framed photo of Katie she kept on the bookshelf. It was a favorite of hers. It was impossible to get the little girl to pose for pictures – hard enough to get her to even sit still long enough for a clear shot – but she'd managed to snap one at just the right moment. They'd been down on the beach one day a few months ago searching for treasure – unusual sea shells or seagull feathers or any interesting tidbit that had floated in with the tide (Katie was always hoping for an actual message in a bottle) – and the child had looked up, her dark eyes shining with delight at something she'd found, just when Miss Parker had taken the photo.
Caught up in the memory of that precious moment, she murmured, "She has her father's eyes."
Jarod went very still. His back was to her, so she couldn't see his face, for which she was glad. She hadn't intended to tell him like this and had never imagined the desperate circumstances that would accompany this revelation. If he looked at her now, she thought she might lose it.
The silence filled the room, stretching out for what seemed like forever, until she felt it would snap like a high-tension wire pulled too taut for too long.
Finally, Jarod moved. He carefully replaced the photo on the shelf, handling it as gently as if he was lifting Katie herself. Miss Parker felt tears sting the back of her eyes, as she realized what a wonderful father he would have been. Would he ever have the chance now?
"Jarod, I'm sorry, I-" she began.
"No," he said hoarsely, turning to face her. He looked pale but composed. "Let's just concentrate on finding Katie, okay? That's all that matters right now."
She felt immensely grateful for this unexpected reprieve. She couldn't handle a heavy emotional scene right now.
But he wasn't letting her completely off the hook. "Unless you don't trust me. Do you think I'm still working for the Centre?"
He spoke calmly. No hasty attempts to explain his current status like earlier out on the deck. He expected her to answer based on her past experiences with him.
That didn't make it easier to come to a conclusion. Jarod had been her friend, her enemy, her lover, but above all else, he was a Pretender. Even he had admitted on more than one occasion that he didn't know who he was. He'd spent most of his adult life trying to answer that question, and he expected her to make an accurate assessment of his character in an instant?
Miss Parker wanted to believe him. She needed his help to find Katie. Now that he knew she was his daughter, too, surely he'd want to get her back almost as much as she did? But what then? Would he hand the girl over to the Centre? Lyle had a habit of pursuing his own agenda; maybe the Triumverate had sent Jarod here to stop his old nemesis from gaining power within the organization.
All the possible scenarios started to make her head throb with renewed ferocity.
Jarod was waiting for her response. She took a deep breath and met his unwavering gaze. "I trust you'll do everything you can to help me get Katie away from my sick freak of a brother."
She saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes that she hadn't really given him an answer, but she was not ready to fully accept that her Jarod was back. He quickly pushed his feelings aside, however, nodding and saying, "Okay, then. We need to talk to the person we know who last saw Lyle. That would be Sydney," he added grimly.
"Well, I was supposed to visit him today, so Broots sent me the name and location of the New York hospital where he's a patient." She turned back to the computer and was glad to close the video window and open up another e-mail from last night. She hit the print command and went on, "It will take too long to drive down there, but I don't know how soon we can get a flight." She clicked on the search engine and started to type in some particulars.
Jarod stepped to her side. "Just find out where the nearest private airfield is. We'll charter a plane and I'll fly us to New York."
Of course. How could she have forgotten he was a pilot… when he needed to be.
"There's one not far from here," she said. "My company uses it to fly in VIP clients. Let's go." She stood up – too quickly, she realized, as the room started to spin.
Jarod laid a steadying hand on her elbow but she shook him off. "I'm fine," she insisted, focusing on the peaceful painting on the wall behind the futon – a bunch of freshly-picked daisies in a water pitcher on the steps of an old farmhouse porch – until the dizziness passed. She had to be able to keep on her feet or Jarod might second guess his earlier diagnosis and decide she needed a CT scan after all.
He didn't physically try to prop her up but was close enough to do so. He murmured, "When was the last time you ate?"
Last night's prime rib dinner seemed a million years ago, but the mere thought of food made her queasy. "I don't have time-" she started to say.
"I saw a box of peanut butter crackers in the kitchen," he interrupted.
"Yes, I keep them on the counter because Katie likes to get her own afternoon snack. She's so independent..." Her throat tightened. Was her little girl hungry right now?
Jarod was there to offer support again, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. This time she didn't pull away. "We'll get her back," he said softly.
Miss Parker turned to look at him and saw the determination in his dark brown eyes – so like Katie's! She only hoped her daughter was feeling that same resolve right now.
Hang in there, Katie. Mommy's coming.
