Disclaimer: Please see Part I for the usual remarks about not owning anything except my own imagination.
Memory Ronin
Part XIX
By Callisto
The Centre
Blue Cove, DE
Lyle stepped gratefully onto the tarmac of the Centre's private airstrip and quickly made his way towards the main building. His last few days in Los Angeles were as confusing as they were harrowing. He had barely escaped the Golden State with his life. The brief visit to the Japanese gardens was invigorating but the sojourn into Little Tokyo was something else altogether. If he hadn't paid attention to the frantic whispers in his mind he would have been torn to bits by the angry mob that had quickly formed wanting his blood. As it was, his plane had just barely left Los Angeles airspace when the pilot had been informed that the LAPD was interested in speaking to his passenger. A high-powered law firm, upset over the disruption Lyle's visit caused, had called in the local police department. That coupled with some disturbing reports of the same man matching the description of a possible serial killer preying on Asian women sparked the deepening interest of detectives. At Lyle's instruction the pilot informed the tower that his passenger had important business to attend to and his instructions were to continue towards the East coast without further delay.
The pieces of the puzzle fell into place when one of the sweepers from the West coast satellite facility sent an email explaining the native's reaction complete with an interesting attachment. A large flyer with his picture prominently situated in the center explained how he was a suspected serial killer of Asian women. The reports of several missing Asian women from around the country were conveniently listed.
If he didn't know better, Lyle would have ascribed this dirty trick to his dead twin. As before, he instinctively heeded the whispered warnings in his mind to leave his twin alone, that only ruin and pain would result if he continued to probe deeper into her disappearance. This alone convinced him that she was not only still alive but giving him less than subtle warnings to change his life style. Never one to listen to his overly moral twin, Lyle smiled to himself, vowing to continue his activities with a larger dose of discretion than he previously employed. The sweeper, who was walking with him, swallowed hard and averted his gaze. The debasedly hungry smile that settled on Lyle's face was a frightening sight.
Once inside the comforting confines of the Centre, Lyle walked into his office, deposited his briefcase on the couch and fixed himself a generous glass of aged whiskey. He had only taken a few sips and loosened his tie when his office door was violently thrown open.
Turning to face the rude visitor, the retort which had sprung to his lips, died there as he spotted Raines standing in the middle of his office. The old man was a sight; his expensive, tailored made suit had a slept-in, rumpled appearance and the usually dead eyes now held an expression of barely controlled rage.
"It's about time you decided to grace us with your presence, Mr. Lyle," the breathless bald man stated heatedly.
"It's nice being back home, besides your frantic phone call left me little choice," Lyle replied smoothly.
"That's good to know. I was under the impression the authorities on the West Coast were the real reason you returned in such a timely manner. You will be required to limit your recreational activities until further notice."
"Gee, Pops, I didn't know you cared. Is that the reason you recalled me?" Lyle asked as he sat confidently behind his desk.
"The Hamilton facility has been destroyed. The elite group of sweepers have all been killed. I need you to oversee the cleaner teams on-site to make sure the identities of the perpetrators are discovered," Raines said with deceptive calm.
The shock of Raines' statement got through to the sociopath. He had toured Hamilton only a few weeks before and had given the facility a clean bill of health. The security was excessive practically rendering the small contingent of human guards unnecessary but the importance of the material stored there made all the security measures necessary. The shock slackened expression on Lyle's face satisfied Raines and sadistically he needed to deliver yet another blow to Lyle's usually impenetrable persona.
"The boy has been kidnapped as well. How this could have only been accomplished within hours of Centre-Hamilton's destruction indicates a coordinated effort. The two incidents occurring practically at the same time means they are related. Something with this level of sophistication would require the involvement of someone with intimate knowledge of our activities," Raines said as he sank with an air of agonized defeat onto Lyle's couch. "All of our genetic research samples have been destroyed, setting the entire regeneration project back years, probably decades."
"Jarod. He's the only loose end out there who is capable and interested enough in pulling off something of this magnitude. I was afraid he wouldn't let go, apparently killing Parker wasn't enough for him," Lyle said slyly. He still had no intention of letting on to Raines what the whispers in his mind kept telling him. Before Raines could respond Lyle continued, "What has the Triumvirate had to say about the loss of Hamilton? When I left for the West coast, I was under the impression they had gotten chattier."
"They are. Needless to say, they are enraged about the loss of the facility, not to mention the expensive and impossible to replace material and equipment we managed to amass. They have dispatched their own team of investigators to survey the site, that's why I need you to be there, overseeing our efforts." With that said, Raines wearily rose to his feet and pulling his ever-present, squeaky oxygen supply behind him, took his leave. Pausing on the threshold, Raines turned to give Lyle a pensive look, "Now isn't the time to come up short, Mr. Lyle. Disappointment will not be tolerated."
Lyle watched as the maliciously foul old man slowly left his office. Lyle leaned back taking another long pull on his drink and listened in silence as the whispers in his mind began their litany.
Jarod's family home
Franconia, NH
Jarod watched silently as his wife continued to pack her belongings in boxes. The knock on the door dragged him out of his reverie and he rose from his comfortable position on their bed to answer it. Emily smiled haltingly at her brother. Jarod saw the hesitant look in his sister's face and placing a hand on her shoulder, he drew her inside the apartment. Emily didn't resist and stepped into her brother's offered embrace drawing from him a sense of comfort and warmth. They stood like this for several moments until Jarod felt his sister begin to pull away. Giving her a tight squeeze, Jarod released her and stepped back.
"Would you like a mug of hot chocolate? Maggie made some a few minutes ago," he asked invitingly.
"No, thanks. I would like to have a quick word with Maggie, though," she replied.
"Sure, I think she's still in the bedroom," Jarod said and walked his sister into the bedroom.
At the sight of the general disarray and the open boxes being packed, Emily inhaled sharply catching Jarod's attention. "I know you were planning on leaving, I just didn't realize it was so soon. Where are you moving?"
Maggie, having reentered the bedroom smiled at her sister-in-law. "It looks worse than it is, I'm just taking a few personal things." Having initially missed the depressed look on Emily's face, Maggie now saw the raw emotion.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I must be in the way, I'll just go downstairs and pester Margaret for a while," Maggie said softly, her gaze shifting from her husband to her sister-in-law.
"No, I wanted to ask you something," Emily, said hurriedly. Unconsciously she squeezed her brother's hand then plunged on, "I came to ask you about Naizen. He's gone, I was wondering if you knew why?"
Understanding flooded Maggie's mind as a look of sympathy touched her face. "He didn't say anything to me but I would suspect he left because there are some things requiring his attention back home. Namely ending that horrible marriage of his. He probably wouldn't have been in such a rush if it weren't for you," she said with a smile.
"What?" Emily asked with a perplexed expression. She refused to let herself hope that Maggie was saying what she wanted to hear.
"Give Naizen some time, I'm sure he will be in touch with you in a few days. Chiyo has enough lovers to keep her insensible to Naizen's absence for a few years," Maggie replied dryly.
Several hours later Jarod was still watching Maggie as she cleared away the remainder of mess she created a few hours earlier.
"Where are we going?" he asked bluntly.
"California, Sausalito to be exact," she answered as she taped down the opening of a small box. "Any objections?"
"I wanted to stay near my family but that doesn't seem likely now. I told Dad about the gift, he reminded me we all knew that staying in New Hampshire was temporary at best."
"I can go alone; see what it looks like, email you some pictures. If you're dead set against it, then we can compromise," she offered.
"No. Now that I have you, I'm not letting you out of my sight for a second. Besides, what kind of newlywed would I be if I let my beautiful new wife go off on her own to the other side of the country?" he responded smilingly.
She turned her eyes back to her work, not bothering to conceal the happy smile on her face. Without pausing in her work she asked, "Did you mail it?"
"Yes, with my own gloved hands and before we left for Delaware," he replied with a smile in his voice.
"And it will work without harming anyone?" she asked finally pausing long enough to look at her husband apprehensively.
"If I knew you were going to be this sensitive, I would have spared telling you anything about it," he said still smiling.
"No. No more hiding things from each other, we agreed. I know it's necessary but it seems cruel in its own way."
"The only cruelty here is what the Centre dreams up from other's nightmares. No one will be hurt except of course Raines and maybe the Triumvirate."
Maggie nodded without answering and returned to putting the finishing touches on her boxes.
The Centre
Blue Cove, DE
Several days later, Sydney was in his office and after a lengthy search found Angelo, which involved luring the savant out with a fresh box of Cracker Jacks. Sydney had just finished pouring out the portion of the dose as instructed and walked from his office into the adjacent sim lab where Angelo waited. Sydney was about to hand Angelo the drink when Lyle breezed into the room.
"Sydney, I've been looking for you for the past hour," Lyle began. He noticed the psychiatrist had an appealingly cool, tall glass of what appeared to be tea in his hand. As he approached the whispers in his head began to chatter to him again. Wanting to just shut them up, Lyle walked up to Sydney and asked, "Have you heard from Jarod recently?"
"No, Mr. Lyle, I have not," Sydney lied smoothly. He wondered idly why Lyle would ask.
"From the ever so slightly interested look that breezed across your face, I assume you haven't heard the latest news: Someone has destroyed the Hamilton facility. I bet you can just guess who made it to the top of my list of suspects," Lyle said sardonically.
"I seriously doubt Jarod could have had anything to do with destroying a facility he never knew existed. And if he did I would be surprised if Jarod knew anything about what really went on there. For that matter, I no longer know the extent of the scientific research conducted there," Sydney replied. He was deeply shocked that a facility armed with the best in state-of-the-art security equipment, much of it designed by the remaining pretenders, and the most elite of sweeper teams had let anyone or anything get passed them. A sudden thought occurred to him and he looked at Lyle curiously, "What about the sublevels? Are they still intact?"
"No, your genius found a couple air shafts that fed into the lower levels and somehow propelled several of his percussive bombs into them—gravity did the rest. I'm on my way over there now to assess the damage and to see if there is anything salvageable from the sublevels," Lyle answered. He had been eying the now frosty glass in Sydney's hand and made an impulsive decision. Just as Sydney was handing the glass to Angelo, Lyle snatched it out of Sydney's hand and began to drink it thirstily. The tea was refreshing and surprisingly tasty.
"Not bad, Syd. Got anymore?" Lyle asked with a lift of an eyebrow. Sydney was about to warn him when he suddenly thought better of it. "Yes but that was for Angelo, he doesn't drink enough fluids and I don't want him to become dehydrated," Sydney said sternly. He was once again thankful for his quick wits.
"He never even noticed, so how about another glass? I'm sure the bottled water in the commissary is good enough for monkey-boy," Lyle replied menacingly.
Shrugging resignedly, Sydney unscrewed the large thermos of tea and refilled the glass. By the time Lyle finished polishing off the second glass, Broots came running into the room to tell Sydney of the bombing.
"Sydney, you're not going to believe this," Broots began breathless from his unaccustomed jog.
"I've already told him. This is one dance you get to sit out, I'm taking Wade with me on this little field trip," Lyle growled at the tech.
Broots, now unable to cower at all, stared mutely at the other man. Lyle handed the empty glass back to Sydney and stalked out of the room. Both men watched as Lyle took his leave and Sydney immediately turned and headed towards his office.
"I'll be right back Broots," Sydney called behind him. When he returned with a fresh tumbler full of ice, Sydney filled the glass and had it snatched away again, this time he called out. "No, Broots, don't drink that! I swear everyday she's gone you become more like her," Sydney chastised angrily removing the glass from Broots' hand.
"What? I sprinted here from the tech room, I got thirsty," Broots said defensively.
In an excited whisper, Sydney leaned towards his friend and said softly, "I've heard from Jarod!" At the shocked widening of Broots' eyes, Sydney nodded excitedly.
"Did he phone you?"
"No, he sent a package by special messenger to my house. Inside was a letter asking me for one final favor," Sydney stated as he finally placed the glass in Angelo's hands. Watching the other man drink deeply, a certain sadness invaded Sydney's eyes. "I think this may be the last time I hear from him."
"What did the letter say?" Broots asked in a whispered tone. He saw the sadness in Sydney and felt sympathy for his friend. Jarod was like a son to Sydney, despite the older man's protestations.
"It contained two formulas and a recipe for this tea. He asked me to serve the tea to all the pretenders—especially Angelo. He also said that I would hear part of the reason why when I came into work today."
"The bombing? Why would Jarod do something like that? From what I heard the only casualties were those combat trained zombies that made both the Triumvirate's men and our sweepers look like ballerinas."
"He figured out that the pretender gene can be inherited from one parent but becomes active if inherited from both parents. The formula he sent me contains a bio-engineered virus which will sterilize anyone who ingests it without causing any other harmful effects. It makes sense now because with the destruction of Hamilton, the Centre will have to harvest fresh genetic material from all the pretenders we currently have here," Sydney explained.
"I don't think I like where you're going with this. Do you mean to say that he wants you to go around sterilizing every pretender we have left? What about them, don't they get a say in it?" Broots asked in a horrified voice.
"Think about it Broots, the only children any of our pretenders might produce will be under the control and auspices of the Centre and forced into slavery. The genetic mutations you and Miss Parker found at Donoterase are nothing compared to the experiments that were being conducted in the sublevels at Hamilton," Sydney replied forcefully.
"There's got to be a better way," Broots insisted as he shook his head.
"What else can we do? Go to the authorities? Our most lucrative contracts come from the government. The only thing that would happen is a few executives would be jailed but the real culprits would still be running around loose only working for a different employer doing the exact same thing. Don't worry, Jarod could never be that cruel: He asked me to have each pretender memorize the formula for the antidote. If they ever gain their freedom, then they can produce the antidote when they feel it's safe. When you think about it, this is the only way to stop the Centre from using them and continuing this madness," Sydney said in a convincing voice.
A sudden thought occurred to Broots and he looked up at Sydney with an apprehensive air. "Wait a minute, Mr. Lyle just had a full glass of that stuff, what about him?"
"Make that two glasses, I thought about that too when he insisted on taking Angelo's drink," Sydney thought pensively.
"Yeah but can you imagine Lyle having kids?" Brooks asked as he gazed at Sydney with an expression of utter disgust.
"Jarod enclosed a sample of the antidote just in case it fell into the wrong hands. I guess we could manage to feed it to Lyle somehow," Sydney suggested apathetically.
Both men looked at each other and answered his question in unison, "Nah!!!"
Angelo smiled happily and said, "Voices speak, Lyle listening."
This statement made both Sydney and Broots stare at Angelo contemplatively.
Walter's residence
Sausalito, CA
Several months later, Major Charles, his wife Margaret and their son Trent were traveling in a cab after giving the driver the address Jarod had supplied them for the visit. None of them missed the cabbie's upraised eyebrows when he was handed the scrap of paper the address had been written on. They traveled through the picturesque downtown area and were currently driving through the winding, narrow streets. Looking up at the expansive homes, all the passengers understood their cabbie's reaction. They kept looking at the passing neighborhood with an air of awe as the cab continued to wind it's way upward. When they finally came to a stop the cabbie looked in his rearview mirror at the wondering expressions on his passenger's faces.
"Well here we are, are you sure this is the address you wanted?"
"Yes, thank you," the Major replied as he helped his wife from the car. Trent turned and deciding to give the cabbie a generous tip handed over a $20.00 bill for the short trip. The cabbie nodded to the teen and watched as the small family walked up to the front door. They were waiting on the doorstep for a few long seconds before Jarod opened the door abruptly.
"Dad, Mom! Hey, it's great to see you guys!" Jarod greeted. He spotted Trent and enveloped the teenager in a tight hug. "Come on in, I came home early from the office to meet you and was beginning to wonder when you were going to show up."
"Jarod, this is magnificent. My God, the inside is more impressive than the outside!" Margaret gushed in amazement.
"You look good son, did you cut your hair?" the Major asked.
Running his hand over his closely cropped hair, Jarod grinned sheepishly. He recalled telling the barber how long it had taken for him to grow his hair long and the reason why he was cutting it. The barber had told him he was 'whipped'. When the barber saw the confused look on Jarod's face, he explained what the term meant—causing Jarod to blush and confirming the barber's suspicion. "Yes, it's part of a deal I made with Maggie. She lets her hair grow long and I cut mine."
"Just how rich is Maggie?" Trent asked bluntly. The teen shrugged awkwardly at his father's disapproving scowl.
"It's okay, Dad. That was my reaction when I first laid eyes on it. Ethan wasn't kidding when he said she is extremely wealthy but the house was a wedding gift from Sensei Otsu. Apparently he brought it almost a decade ago when the real estate market was in a major slump," Jarod replied laughingly at their expressions.
"Real estate slump or no, this mansion must have cost a fortune," the Major replied as he followed his family further into the expansive home. The tasteful mix of Eastern and Western décor found favor with the whole family.
"Maggie is out picking up Timmy from day care and grocery shopping for tonight's dinner. She told me that you would be showing up today and didn't want us to go out to a restaurant," Jarod stated, answering his mother's question about Maggie's whereabouts after a lengthy tour of the house.
"Her inner sense is becoming more pronounced, isn't it?" Margaret asked curiously.
"Yes, it's fascinating to watch. She's completely grown into it. Fortunately she doesn't have any of the headaches that Ethan used to suffer from," Jarod replied.
They had finally settled down in the large living room area that seemed furnished for real people, instead of the commonly sterile room most homes had to impress guests. Jarod returned from the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses, he was trailed by Trent who offered to help, bringing in a tray of pastries.
"So tell me, how are you doing? Your email said that you were moving out here?" Jarod asked eagerly.
"That's right but not to San Francisco, it's a bit out of my league," the Major replied. He smiled as a concerned look came over Jarod's face. "Don't worry, we're doing okay, we've just closed escrow on a comfortable house down in San Diego. It's not as grand as this but I think it will be a home that will give us plenty of good memories."
"We'll let you know the minute we move in, so we can have your family visit. Speaking of which, how is Ethan doing?" Margaret asked.
"He's at the office now, still trying to get over the unprecedented success his new business is enjoying. I kept telling him that his ideas on software security were innovative, now Polaris is flooded with orders and customers," Jarod said with a smile. "He's been keeping me busy at least 3 or 4 days a week providing support for his customers."
"Have you heard anything further from Emily? The last we heard was an email message that said she was settling in at their new apartment," Trent asked easily. He was still enchanted with the expansive view of the numerous boats passing through the bay. He thought the illusion the view gave of the house sitting on a green canopy was 'off the hinges'.
"Maggie talked to Emily last night. I think we should get ready for another wedding; Naizen had surprisingly little trouble ending his previous marriage. From what Maggie is telling me, that was a long time coming." Looking at his father Jarod continued, "I think I know how you feel now, Naizen did get hurt saving our lives and as long as Emily wants him—I don't have any objections."
"I don't think any objections on our part would stop her. She's in love and I have a feeling Naizen will be good to her," Margaret stated confidently.
Suddenly the sounds of Maggie and the voice of an active and chatty 3-year-old came from the kitchen. Rising from his seat Jarod excused himself with a smile.
He met Maggie in the kitchen and after exchanging a kiss with her, asked her what had kept her so long. Her answer was interrupted by the appearance of her in-laws. Jarod's family had followed him, curious and eager to see Maggie again.
She greeted her in-laws and Trent with affection. Before Maggie could start working on making their dinner, Margaret wanting particulars about Emily dragged her into the family room. Jarod picked up Timmy who had been feeding the rabbit and followed the group.
During a lull in the conversation, Maggie got up and excused herself, "We'll be back in a minute, there's something I need to discuss with Jarod." Her smile softened the statement as she grabbed her puzzled husband's arm and led him into the kitchen. True to her word the couple returned a few minutes later. Jarod's face was beaming and Maggie had a self-conscious smile.
"I'm glad you all here right now, we have some news for you and I think it's better to tell you in person rather than over the Internet or phone," Jarod said happily.
"What is it? From the smiles on your faces it seems like good news, so give," Trent said excitedly.
"I had wanted to be here to meet you but I had an important appointment I needed to keep. Well, to make a long story short, I'm pregnant," Maggie said with a large smile.
The general cheer and congratulations continued for several minutes. Jarod then produced a digital camera and asked his father to take a picture of him and his wife. The Major happily obliged determined to walk away with more than a few snaps for himself. Jarod and Maggie got into position in front of the fireplace. They were stiffly posed in a manner not much to the Major's liking, so he pretended to be befuddled by the camera's operation.
Jarod was confused by his father's hesitation with the camera. He stepped forward to assist his father but was waved off. The Major was banking on Maggie being unable to stand still with her husband standing so enticingly near. His supposition paid off, Maggie began playing with Jarod by tickling and teasing him. It was obvious from their mutual behavior how deeply in love they were with each other. Their horsing around became more pronounced and ended up with Jarod reaching out and wrapping his arms around his wife's waist and kissing her. He then returned the favor by somehow making her laugh. This was the pose the Major had been waiting for—he took several pictures of the laughing couple holding each other and kissing.
"Okay, I think I got what I needed, thanks," the Major told the couple. This statement caused the newlyweds to pause and look at him creating another perfect shot. The Major quickly captured the moment wishing he had a camcorder instead of a still digital camera.
Jarod chuckled softly and asked, "How many pictures did you take just now?"
"Not many, about 10 according to this readout. I'll need copies of each one," the Major replied with a wide smile.
The Centre
Blue Cove, DE
In the several months that followed the bombing of the Hamilton facility, many changes had occurred. Most notably was the subsequent disappearance of Mr. William Raines. The Triumvirate had been left extremely disappointed with the results of the two inquiry teams sent to evaluate the scene. Unable or more likely incapable of venting their impotent anger in any other way, they decided to use Raines to express the depths of their dissatisfaction.
Mr. Lyle was unavailable as an alternate whipping boy or for any possible promotion. He had voluntarily checked himself into an exclusive Swiss sanitarium under an alias. The chattering whispers had finally taken their toll on the sociopath, he was unable to sleep or rest without hearing warnings or revealing messages from them. In the span of only two months, the voices revealed how he had been used since birth and what had been planned for him by the Centre in the near future. That in addition to the pain and anguish his own 'recreational' activities had brought to the families of his many victims.
Sydney was packing up a few of his belongings and had come across a metal lockbox he used to squirrel away the few precious treasures from his life, including a certain father's day card. As he sat down in his desk chair rereading the simple but heartfelt card, Broots silently walked in and looked at his tortured friend.
In a soft voice he said, "Sydney? Are you alright?"
"Yes, Broots. For the first time in years I believe I truly am," Sydney replied as he replaced the card in the box and relocked it, adding it to the box that sat on the edge of his desk.
"So the rumors are true, you're really leaving," Broots said with a note of sorrow in his voice.
"Since the Triumvirate has taken complete control of the Centre, I see little reason for staying. I feel fortunate that they are willing to let me leave, of course without my files but I purged them right after Mr. Lyle left for the Hamilton bombsite. What about you Broots, when are you going to leave?"
"I don't know, at one time I couldn't wait to get out of here but since Miss Parker's death I'm less inclined to leave, I'm not sure why," Broots replied frankly to his friend.
"She would have wanted both of us to leave, Broots," Sydney said persuasively.
Broots nodded silently as the fax machine in Sydney's office suddenly came to life. "I know but I'm not sure if I'm ready to let go. Yeah, go ahead, say it, 'how pathetic'." Broots walked absently to the fax machine after it had spat out the last sheet of paper and without looking at them, Broots expertly reshuffled them so the cover page was showing and handed the thin pile to Sydney.
Sydney accepted the sheets and began to read. He quickly turned the page and then sat down heavily still reading. He began to shake his head slowly as a small smile formed on his lips. By the time he looked up at Broots in dumbfounded amazement, the younger man had become thoroughly concerned.
"I have here in my hands the perfect reason for you to leave now," Sydney said as he handed over the faxed sheets.
Broots accepted the pages and the sender's name on the cover letter startled him. Broots hastily shuffled to papers to the next page and found in Jarod's neat handwriting was a letter.
Sydney--
I'm writing this to you because my wife has informed me that you and Broots are still grieving over her. Let me reassure you that she is fine and you are right, there is no way I would ever harm her. This will be the last time I will communicate with you at the Centre; it's time for both of you to leave. We are finally free from that prison and now it's yours and Broots' turn to leave. Once we know that you have truly left then we will finish what we have started. I included a picture to explain.
Take care my friend,
Jarod
The next page was a picture of a carefree looking Jarod smiling lovingly into the beautiful face of his laughing wife. Jarod had his arms wrapped around her waist and her hands were lightly grasping his biceps. In her mirth, she had turned towards the camera allowing a full view of her face. The face Broots had missed so much in the past eight months. It was his turn to sit down heavily and turned his confused stare on his friend.
Both men were silent and hadn't heard the air duct grate open and Angelo enter the room. Angelo walked up and peered over Broots' shoulders. So Jarod had gotten his message and relieved the pain of loss and sorrow from her two friends. Angelo nodded happily and spoke, startling both men. "Daughter free. Friend free, find love and care for Timmy and baby."
There wasn't any way Angelo could elaborate that just out of the camera's range was his son, an observant 3-year-old who had become accustomed to watching his new parents laugh and enjoy each other's company.
Broots stared at his friend mutely as Sydney removed the pages from Broots' hand and flicking a lighter to life, set the pages on fire. The three men watched as the fire consumed the evidence of her survival.