Disclaimer:  The characters are not my own, I'm only borrowing them to put them into situations of my own imagining.

Finding Family

Part Nine:  Making Connections

Rating: G

Category: S

Timeline: Sometime in the middle of the series

Spoilers: None

Keywords: MPJF, JOF

Summary:  Miss Parker accidentally shoots Jarod, which forces her to confront her feelings towards him.  Meanwhile, a seriously injured Jarod has to learn to trust someone to help him and finds out a little about his family history.

Thanks again for the kind reviews.  I appreciate your encouragement!  Another chapter is on the way, but thought I'd post at least this one….

The Centre, Blue Cove, Delaware, Thursday night

Broots tapped his foot impatiently as the last reel of magnetic tape was loaded on to the mainframe computer.  He had gone home as usual, picking his daughter up from her after school care and feeding her dinner.  After making sure she was set up to finish her homework and get ready for bed, he returned to the Centre.  He hated leaving her alone too often, but now that she was twelve she could stay home by herself and not need a babysitter.  He had told his daughter that he would be gone for only a few hours and would be home to tuck her in, but he was beginning to doubt if that was true.  He was surprised at the amount of data that had been stored for the years 1969 and 1970.  He had decided to limit his search for information on the projects that the nurse, Eleanor Black, had worked on to the time just proceeding her disappearance from the Centre which coincided with the time of Catherine Parker's apparent suicide.  Miss Parker was sure there was a connection between her mother and this woman and he was determined to find it for her.

He had uncovered lots of secret information, recovered seemingly destroyed information and generally performed the impossible for Miss Parker when it came to information technology.  He knew he wasn't the bravest, but he was the best computer hacker.  He had brought along a portable hard disc that could probably store more data than all the of reels of magnetic tape put together.  He had devised an adaptor to interface the old technology with the new and as each reel had been loaded into the mainframe, an echo had been sent through the serial port to his modern hard drive.  He had quickly realized that searching the data base would be more efficiently accomplished using current query language and wanted to get back to his own tech office and all its useful machines.  However, here he was, still in the creepy, quiet, dead-end corridor of the medical wing downloading another tape.  How many was it now, nine?  He originally thought there would be two or three, maybe four, but he was already double the estimate.  Whatever they had been working on, they had taken the pains to enter a lot of data into the computer storage system.  What could it have been?  While he waited he ran a test routine that he had written that would help him determine the structure of the database, to essentially give him the category labels that the data was organized under.  He had actually made some headway there, determining that about a third was routine office visit information, maybe half was devoted to a single project named Leukogenesis and the remaining data was heavily encrypted for some other project.  He was betting that the last set of data was where the real smoking gun of the Centre's nefarious interests lay.

Finally, the magnetic tape spun off the reel and he was done collecting data.  He quickly restored the reel to its place in the racks, shut down the antiquated but still sturdy machine and repacked his satchel with his tools and the portable hard drive.  Broots shut off the lights and then opened the door a crack to peek cautiously for any movement in the hallway.  It was as quiet as ever.  Stepping out, he closed the door softly behind him.  A shiver ran down his spine as he turned and his gaze caught the door across the hall where a man had been callously murdered by Raines earlier that day.  Nervously, Broots sidled down the hall keeping to one wall like it protected him.

Within a few minutes, he was out of the medical wing and back in the main offices of the Centre where the tech center and his office were.  He was beginning to relax now that he was back on home territory, and he glanced down at his watch to check the time hoping to be home before ten to tuck in his daughter.  So he was completely caught off guard as Mr. Lyle rounded a corner and barreled into Broots nearly knocking him down.

"Broots, good, where's my sister?" demanded Lyle.

"I d-d-don't know," stuttered Broots.

"She isn't here, and she isn't answering her home phone," Lyle said glaring at Broots like he had hidden her away.  His eyes narrowed as he studied Broots, "What are you doing here so late?  I thought you always left at five to get your kid."

"I d-d-did.  I came back to work on something for Miss Parker," replied Broots defensively.

Lyle arched an eyebrow, "Analyzing the clues from Jarod's last lair are you?"

Broots nodded mutely.  He knew he wasn't a very good liar.  He couldn't let Lyle know what he was really analyzing.

Lyle visibly relaxed as his hunched shoulders dropped and he rolled his head to the side to crack his neck.  "I told the Chairman that she'd gather all that junk.  I've always maintained that collecting and saving Jarod's toys was a waste of time.  It's never led to his capture.  Besides, we really surprised him this time.  He didn't have time to leave his taunting false clues."

Broots stared at Lyle in dawning realization.  He must have come from a chewing out by Mr. Parker over the last bungled capture of Jarod.  But if Lyle hadn't collected any evidence from Jarod's last pretend, then had Miss Parker collected it after he left her at Jarod's second lair at the private investigation shop?

Lyle smirked superiorly at Broots, "Well, I'm going to dinner now.  You stay and analyze Jarod's trash.  I'll find him using standard search techniques before my sister ever does with her idiotic method," Lyle boasted, then turned sharply on the slick soles of his Italian leather shoes and strode off down the hall.

Broots stared after the man for a minute and then hurried on to his own office.  'I better warn Miss Parker to collect everything if she hasn't already.  But not until after I get this information analyzed.  I don't want her mad at me,' he thought to himself.  He quickly unpacked the hard drive from his satchel and attached its cable to his own state of the art computer.  He set a subroutine going on the encrypted data searching for password to unlock it and then began a search on the other data looking for entries containing the name of the nurse, Eleanor Black.

Raleigh, North Carolina, Thursday Night

Meanwhile, Parker and Amanda had returned to Jarod's apartment over the private investigation shop.  Parker had been reading through all the scientific papers that she had found on his desk in the lab, while Amanda was sorting through the box of papers that had been her mother's.  Parker was primarily reading the summary and conclusions from each scientific paper and skimming over all the details of the actual experiments and clinical trials that were described.  They were primarily about the medical procedures for treating leukemia and showed progress in the success rate of the treatments.  Parker was a visual learner and she was carefully laying the papers out on the floor in chronological order.  She was looking for a pattern in the progression of treatments that would give her a clue to what Jarod had seen.  She knew he had been able to read and understand everything and had made his conclusions based on the details, but her mind didn't work at the same level that his did.  However, her method had been highly successful for her over the years, and she hoped it would be again.

While Parker paced back and forth reading and laying papers down on the floor, Amanda sat on the small, dilapidated couch with the box next to her.  She sifted through the contents wistfully, her mind more on memories of her mother than on the task at hand.  When she came across a copy of a scientific paper, she looked up at Miss Parker and asked, "Do you think this is a connection to all those papers you are sorting through?"

Parker stepped over her paper river to the couch and snatched the paper out of the girl's outstretched hand.  It was an original reprint that authors could order from the publisher at the same time their article was published in the scientific journal so that they could hand them out in their resumes.  More than that, it matched the oldest paper that she had found so far.  It had been published in January of 1970 and all the rest of the research papers seemed to radiate out from its starting point like bowling pins behind the first pin.  She studied the two authors' names, William R. Haines and Joseph Brown.  She didn't recognize either and they clearly weren't female.  She reread the paper and really looked at the experimental procedures.  They only thing she noted was the exceptionally small number of patients included in the trial since there were only eight.  Most trials had hundreds of patients to get statistically good conclusions.  Perhaps since this was a new procedure and since only one patient had died while they other seven had showed dramatic recovery from their illness, then the publisher had gone ahead with the paper's publication.

Parker shook her head and handed the paper back to Amanda.  "I can't see it," she sighed in exasperation.  "What connection can there be?"

Amanda began to read the paper, while Parker stood with her hands on her hips, staring out the window at the dark street below and absently watching a car pass by slowly.  She repeated the names of the authors silently to herself, a dawning of realization beginning to form in her brain.  Quickly, she stepped back to her pattern on the floor and readjusted a few papers so that the time progression also included rows of papers that were written by the same authors.  Joseph Brown had been a lead researcher on numerous papers following the first one, then his contributions ended in the late 1980's.  There was a break of several years, and then a new set of authors picked up in the mid-1990's.  But never did this William R. Haines reappear.  Parker gasped aloud, "What if the "H" were silent?" she asked herself.

"What?" asked Amanda in confusion.

Parker shook her head at her, "You don't want to know."

Amanda shrugged and looked back down at the paper.  Unlike Parker, she was reading the bibliography section too, skimming down the list of references to previous papers that had been published hoping to spot her mother's name.  Then it was her turn to gasp aloud.  "Look at this!" she exclaimed and jumped off the couch holding the paper out to Parker.

Parker looked at the section to which the girl was pointing at the end of the paper following all the references.  "Acknowledgements:  Thanks to our technicians, Phil Reed and John Howerton, and especially to our nurse, Eleanor Black, for the exceptional care she gave all our patients," she read aloud.  "Oh my!  She did work at the Centre and probably for Raines back when he was a doctor," Parker realized.  "Come here.  Help me look at the rest of these papers for acknowledgements," she commanded Amanda.

The two women crouched along the row of research papers flipping to the end of each paper, scanning for any further mention of Amanda's mother.  Joseph Brown had some acknowledgements to assistants and graduate students in the first couple of papers and then discontinued the practice.  It wasn't until the next set of papers that started in the 1990's that they found another acknowledgement.  "Thank you to my research assistant, Evelyn White for discovering an old set of papers that set us on this fruitful avenue of research," read Amanda.

"Your mother changed her name from Eleanor Black to Helen White before she met your father.  Now here's an Evelyn White.  Did you know that Eleanor and Evelyn are both derivatives of Helen?" observed Parker.

Amanda stared at Parker with her mouth open.  "Do you mean my mother really is still alive?" she finally managed to croak out.  Parker nodded.  Amanda's face reflected the range of emotions she was experiencing from amazement, to joy, to anger and finally sadness.  Tears dripped down her face and she asked Parker in a broken voice, "Why would she put me through this hell the last four years thinking that she was dead?"

Parker agonized with the young woman and reached out to touch her hand gently, "I'm sure she thought she was protecting you?"

"From what?!" wailed Amanda.

"The Centre," Parker replied sadly, "the Centre."

The Centre, Blue Cove, Delaware, Thursday night

Broots looked at his watch yet again and sighed deeply.  It was getting late and he needed to get home.  More than that, he needed to call Miss Parker.  He dreaded telling her that he hadn't found any connection to her mother in the data he could scan, and that so far his attempts to decrypt the remaining data had failed.  Squaring his shoulders, he picked up his phone and dialed Miss Parker's cell phone.  He at least had to tell her about his run in with Mr. Lyle.

The phone rang twice and then he heard her customary, "What?"

"I recovered some computer files from the medical wing for the years 1969 and 1970, but I'm still analyzing the data," he started with the positive message first.

"And…" she answered sensing he was leaving something out.

"Lyle confronted me this evening.  Did you gather evidence from Jarod's last work place and lair?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course," she snapped.  "Why didn't Lyle ?  I was beginning to get suspicious that he was setting me up again."

"Apparently he thinks it's a waste of time.  But I think he got a chewing out by the Chairman and that's why he was looking for you, but found me," Broots replied all in a rush.

"Lyle deserves more than a chewing out," she said darkly.

"So how's it going there?" Broots asked.

"Actually, I've found good evidence in some scientific papers that Jarod left behind at the university that Eleanor Black did indeed work at the Centre.  I think maybe under Raines.  Some project about treating leukemia," she replied.

"There's a whole lot of data here about a project called Leukogenesis," admitted Broots.  "But all the references to Nurse Black that I've checked show her caring for some children.  I didn't really look too carefully because I was looking for a connection to Catherine Parker."

There was a long silence at the other end of the phone, then Miss Parker murmured rather dreamily, "Fail…Fate…Faith…"

"Huh?" responded Broots rather idiotically.

"Leukemia.  Faith.  Of course," Miss Parker replied in a more normal voice.

"M-M-Miss Parker?" asked Broots

"Do those files give the actual names of the children treated?" she snapped in her usual impatient tone.

"Sure, just a minute, I'll return to that part of the data.  Umm, let's see here, four boys and four girls.  All about the same age of 10 years.  All with a similar type of blood cell cancer.

"Their names, Broots," she growled.

"Yeah, here they are, Tom Brown, Susan Chambers, Frank Davidson, George Munos, Faith Parker, Allyson Read, Robert Smith, Diane Valertti."

"Does it mention the outcome of their treatment?" she asked with a tight throat already knowing the answer.

"They all showed marked improvement if not complete remission, except for one who died, Faith Parker.  Parker?" Broots replied beginning to see the connection.

"She was my adopted sister, that I barely even knew before she died," Parker replied sadly.  "That's the connection to my mother.  They both cared for the same sick little girl.  And that must be who took the picture of the two of them," she said more to herself in realization.

"Picture?"  Broots echoed.

"Never mind.  Look, Broots, you go home to your own little girl tonight.  Then tomorrow morning you call in saying she's sick, but make arrangements for her godmother to watch her this weekend.  I want you catch the first flight out of there tomorrow morning to meet me," she paused a moment and he could hear her snapping her fingers, "hand me that paper…meet me at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, Texas."

"Houston?" Broots echoed still feeling lost in the conversation.

"Take a commercial airline, not the corporate jet," she continued to order.  "We don't want them to know I'm not there, and we don't want to be followed this time.  I think we just may find Eleanor Black and I can finally get some straight answers about my mother's death.  And, if I'm right, we may just capture Wonder Boy."

"Jarod?" Broots continued in his one word questions.

"He wouldn't have assumed I'd actually help Amanda.  He'd have tried to finish looking for her mother himself.  He's always trying to reconnect broken families.  He's a hopeless romantic," she finished in a derisive tone.  The flush of pride at figuring out the clues, and the prospect of the continuation of the chase rekindled her huntress instincts.  "I'll catch him yet," she vowed.