LIFE OR DEATH
Part 14: The Masks We Wear
Author's Note: Congratulations to Pez7701 for correctly guessing the other TV show included in this chapter (and the next one too!). Being true to my word, here is a cookie. *gives a cookie to Pez7701* Anywho, here's the next chapter. I hope y'all like it! :D Toodles! ~~Samantha
Author's Note 2: Also, congrats to gemini006007 for figuring out the crossover. I'll give you a cookie too. *gives cookie to gemini006007* ~~Samantha
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He finally felt the slap at his arm and an insistent voice saying, "Jarod??"
"Oh, boy," he muttered. He turned and saw a fairly beautiful woman sitting at his side. He watched as she turned her face to him. She was wearing dark glasses. Her hair was a dark brown, but shimmered red in the sun. She looked at him insistently. He had no clue what to do, so he fell back on a familiar phrase: "I'm sorry. I totally forgot where we were. What were we talking about?" he asked. He could notice an exasperated expression come over the woman's face before she turned back to face forward.
"You were describing the yard for me. But since your attentions are floating elsewhere, I assume you have somewhere more important to be. So, just leave," she whispered menacingly. He was almost surprised at the venomous tone that dripped from her words. For a moment, earlier, she seemed like a nice person. He sat there, dumbfounded. The woman finally gave an exasperated sigh and said, "Fine! If you won't leave, then I will." She got off the swing and slowly made her way back into the house, feeling around with her outstretched arms.
"Oh, boy," Dr. Sam Beckett whispered once again after she was out of earshot, "Al, where are you?"
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"Daddy?" Debbie inquired as she went over a bowl with a drying towel, "do you know what caused Parker's blindness?" Her father looked over at her from his position at the sink.
"No, Debs, I don't. Jarod doesn't either. It seems kinda weird, I know. But, I suppose that it doesn't matter how she became blind. She's blind, and that's all that matters now." The two fell into a silence. Then, they heard the back door slam. Briefly following that sound, a noise like something hitting the floor and then a string of curses ringing out. Debbie and Broots looked at each other for a short moment, then they both dropped their rags and rushed into the den.
"Parker!" Debbie shouted as she saw the fallen woman. She deftly knelt at Parker's side and attempted to help her up. Broots stopped short and decided to let his daughter take care of it. Parker wasn't seriously injured, except for maybe her ego. In a moment of reflection, he realized that his daughter was growing up. He knew that she was in high school, but he still liked to baby her most times. The fact that she still called him "Daddy" bothered him slightly. He didn't know if it was merely a term of endearment, or a sign that he was repressing her in some way. But in these past few weeks that Parker had been living with them, Broots was proud of her.
"Daddy," Debbie spoke up, "I'm going to take Parker to her room. Ya think you could manage the dishes without me?" she asked with her eyebrows quirked. She then smiled, something that reminded him of her mother.
Inwardly, he sighed. But he smiled as well as he replied wryly, "Yeah, I guess I can." Debbie giggled and led Parker out of the den. Instead of going back into the kitchen, he noticed Jarod sitting outside all by himself. Broots decided to head outside and see what had Parker all in a tizzy.
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Sam was still sitting on the porch swing, trying to determine who, where, and when he was. After many years of leaping, he had honed this skill very well. He could automatically tell that he wasn't too far into the past, if he was in the past at all. He knew that there was a pretty good possibility that he was in his present--the present of Project Quantum Leap. He could tell by the scenery that it was fall, but not in the Mid-West, or the East. Possibly the South, or the Western Coast. He guessed by what the woman called him that he was a man named "Jarod."
Since the weather was fairly nice, he decided to sit and wait for Al, his holographic companion. And that plan was going along swimmingly until he heard someone behind him.
"Jarod?" asked the voice of another man. Sam silently sighed, then turned to face the other man. He began to pretend to be a person he had no clue about.
"Yes?" he replied. The man before him was kind of short, very skinny, and balding. He sat down beside Sam on the swing.
"What happened with Parker?" he asked. Sam sported a confused look.
"Parker?" he asked softly. When the man next to him gave him a "no-duh" look, he said, "Oh, earlier with Parker. I don't know. I think she was overreacting," he stated, adding, "like she tends to do," when the other man had an "I-know-what-you-mean look."
"Yeah, she does tend to do that."
"Mr.--" Sam began before he was interrupted.
"Now, Jarod, what did I tell you about that? Drop the 'Mr.' and just call me Broots. There's no need for those formalities here!" he exclaimed with a good-natured slap on the back. Sam chuckled as Broots smiled.
"Alright," he said while he nodded, "no problem. Broots." The two men laughed for a brief moment before Broots turned his head to the kitchen.
"Do you want to come inside?" Sam shook his head. "Well, I need to get back to the dishes. Come on in when you feel like it." Broots patted him on the back once more before standing up and walking back towards the house.
Sam stayed on the swing, alone again. He actually didn't mind the feeling. After all his years of leaping, he rarely had a moment to himself. Sadly, this moment was to be short lived.
"Uh, Sam?" asked a gravelly voice behind him. Sam turned and smiled at the sight of his oldest friend. Admiral Albert Calavicci was decked out in a bright blue and yellow patchwork shirt, neon green pants, and the usual fedora, stogie in hand.
"Al, where have you been?" Sam asked. Al smiled and took a drag off his cigar.
"Well, Gooshie had a heck of a time locating you this time. And Ziggy, boy, is her Streisand personality showin now more than ever!" he exclaimed while gesturing wildly with both hands. Sam nodded and waited for the information he needed. Al whipped out the brightly colored handlink that resembled a child's Lego creation.
"K, Sam, here's the scoop. Your name is Jarod. . .huh. That's funny. Last name unknown. Weird. Anyway, huh." Al scratched his head before continuing again, "Ziggy says that your exact age is unknown too. Right now you are in a town called Keller, Texas. The date is November 4, 2002. Ziggy doesn't know what you're here to do. Sorry, Sam."
Sam sighed, but nodded. Ziggy never knew what the purpose of the leap was until a very crucial moment. But he never recalled the Leapee having so much swiss-cheesing going on. Then, a question sparked in his mind.
"Al, when I leapt, I was sitting by a woman. Can you ask Ziggy who she is?" Al nodded.
"Her name is Michaela Parker, and her exact age is unknown as well. Records show that her mother died, but the dates of death and the causes don't match. For most of her adult life, she was employed by a cop--cop," Al growled, gave the multicolored handlink a cross look, then swatted it with the base of his palm. "Corporation called the Centre."
"Was?"
"Oh, boy, Sam. Yeah, 'was.' She commits suicide two weeks from now. Sam! I bet that's what you're here to do!" he exclaimed, pointing at Sam with the hand holding the cigar. Sam nodded, rubbed his face, and thought for a bit.
"Why, Al? Did she leave a note? Something?" Al pressed some keys on the handlink and waited for Ziggy to send the information.
"We. . .ah. . . we don't know why, Sam. It just happened." Al sighed.
"Can you give me any more information on the people who I'm staying with?"
"Sure thing, Sam. Just gotta wait. . . bingo! This house belongs to an Edward and Deborah Broots. Edward, also known as Eddie, or Broots, is the father. He's in his mid to late forties, and recently purchased this home. His daughter is Deborah, called Debbie. She is a junior in high school and just received her driver's license. Hmm, must be a smart one. Broots was also an employee of the Centre. Until just recently. Hmm, wonder why that is." Sam listened in on Al's babble until he couldn't take it anymore.
"Al! Go back and see if you can find any information from the person I leaped into. I'm going to take a nap. I'm really tired." Al smiled at his friend and nodded.
"Can do, Sam. I'll see ya in a few." With that, Al pressed a button, and the white rectangle that was the Imaging Chamber's door opened up, and Al walked through it. The door closed behind him, leaving Sam alone once more. He shook his head with a slight laugh, and walked toward the house.
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Al walked out of the Imaging Chamber and set a course for the Waiting Room, where the Leapee would be. The sight he happened upon frightened him.
The man, Jarod, was yelling at Verbena Beeks, Project Quantum Leap's resident psychologist. It took Al a bit for his vision to change the figure before him from Sam to Jarod.
"YOU LIE!" Jarod shouted, not even causing Verbena to flinch. "This is the Centre, isn't it!?" He shouted some obscenities, then rushed Verbena. Al had had enough. He ran towards Jarod and blocked him from getting to Beeks. He tackled Jarod to the floor and pinned him there until he stopped struggling.
"Now, listen here, bucko, this is not the Centre. In fact, it's far from it. If you'll calm down, I'll get off of you." Al raised his eyebrows and waited for a response. Jarod nodded slightly and turned his head to the side. Al pushed himself up off of the floor and helped the other man up off the floor with an extended hand.
Jarod walked over and sat in the chair. He sighed and held his head in his hands. Al pulled up another chair and sat facing Jarod.
"Look, I know this is hard for you. But it's not captivity. It would help greatly if you cooperated with us. Now, is there any more information you can give us on who you are? Or Michaela Parker?" Jarod's head shot up at the mention of her name.
"Don't call her Michaela. She'll shoot you," he remarked wryly. "Like I said before, my name is Jarod. I don't know my last name. I was never told what it was. When I was a child, I was taken from my family by the Centre. They exploited my and my ability to 'pretend': to become anyone I want to be. That was in the 60's. Then, in 1996, I escaped. They've been hunting me down ever since."
"So, the Centre is kind of like a prison?" Al asked, interrupting. Jarod smiled as he reverted to a term he'd used before.
"Think hell. With nicer furniture." Al chuckled, but somewhat mirthlessly. Jarod continued. "Miss Parker headed up the team that was in charge of bringing me in. Sydney, a psychologist, and Broots, a technician, made up the remaining parts of the team. Recently, I was shot in the head; a bad result of a pretend. The Centre found me, and told the team I was dead. Well, turns out I was alive. Surprise, surprise. So, Parker had a momentous change, or development, if you ask me, of conscience. The three got me out and we escaped to Montana. Well, the Centre caught up with us. Syd and Broots were out shopping or something. So, Parker and I were the ones caught. Parker was shot a couple of times, I think. I'd thought she was dead, but she was alive. Only blind. So, we escaped, again. You'd think the Centre would wise up and put tons of guards on me. Well, we went to Texas to shack up with Broots for a bit until we establish our new identities and stuff. Until I came here. Where is here, anyway?" he asked finally. Al looked at him, then at Verbena, who had been watching the exchange. She nodded almost imperceptibly.
"Here is Stallions' Gate, New Mexico. A place called Project Quantum Leap."
"I've heard of this," Jarod murmured, "but I never really believed that it could be possible. I think I heard about it when I was still under Centre control. A bright-eyed and wet behind the ears scientist came in to pitch it to the Centre. I think I actually may have met him in passing. But the Centre discounted it as not possible, and refused to fund him." Al sighed. He remembered now why the name of the Centre caused him to feel a bit weird. He'd been there before. Sam had seemed to think that it was a reputable corporation at the time. But Al had had a funny feeling about the place. And he now remembered Jarod, slightly. He hadn't looked happy.
"Yeah," he remarked in a gravelly voice as he lit another cigar, "I remember you now, kid. It was meeting you that made me regret suggesting to Sam that we go there. When I met that nozzle, Mr. Parker, I just wanted to hit him. Parker? Is he related to--"
"Yes," Jarod interrupted tersely, "she's his daughter. He practically brainwashed her. She used to be so like her mother; a kind and gentle soul. Then her father made her feel like she had to be a 'Daddy's little girl.' " Jarod stopped there. The look of anger on his face was very visible.
"Jarod," Al began tentatively, "does Parker have a history of depression?"
"No. Not that I know of. She certainly has been through a lot of heartbreak in the past, and she has an ulcer due to stress and smoking. But no depression. Why?" he asked. Al hesitated. He noticed Verbena nodding again.
"She commits suicide in two weeks from your present time."
----------
One week later
Sam sat in the den with Parker and Debbie. The two ladies were engrossed in a conversation, but Sam remained quiet. He'd struggled with Parker over the past week and tried to initiate conversations, but to no avail. She was one stubborn woman. What was worse, Al had no clue on why Parker would kill herself, even with the full cooperation of Jarod in the Waiting Room.
And time was working against them. But also, Sam felt there was more than just saving Parker's life to this leap. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Jarod?" Debbie asked.
"Yes?"
"Could you stay here with Parker while I go help Daddy with dinner?" She sported a puppy dog face that Sam couldn't resist. He nodded, and the teen shot out of the den. The silence became unbearable. Sam found the remote for the stereo and pushed play. The soft, mellow music of Norah Jones began to play. - This Broots guy must really like Norah Jones. She's practically the only CD that's ever played here, - Sam thought with a mental chuckle. That was alright by him. It was a lot better than most of the music played nowadays.
Parker just sat, looking out the window.
Sam began to wonder if he had any hope of saving her.
Part 14: The Masks We Wear
Author's Note: Congratulations to Pez7701 for correctly guessing the other TV show included in this chapter (and the next one too!). Being true to my word, here is a cookie. *gives a cookie to Pez7701* Anywho, here's the next chapter. I hope y'all like it! :D Toodles! ~~Samantha
Author's Note 2: Also, congrats to gemini006007 for figuring out the crossover. I'll give you a cookie too. *gives cookie to gemini006007* ~~Samantha
----------
He finally felt the slap at his arm and an insistent voice saying, "Jarod??"
"Oh, boy," he muttered. He turned and saw a fairly beautiful woman sitting at his side. He watched as she turned her face to him. She was wearing dark glasses. Her hair was a dark brown, but shimmered red in the sun. She looked at him insistently. He had no clue what to do, so he fell back on a familiar phrase: "I'm sorry. I totally forgot where we were. What were we talking about?" he asked. He could notice an exasperated expression come over the woman's face before she turned back to face forward.
"You were describing the yard for me. But since your attentions are floating elsewhere, I assume you have somewhere more important to be. So, just leave," she whispered menacingly. He was almost surprised at the venomous tone that dripped from her words. For a moment, earlier, she seemed like a nice person. He sat there, dumbfounded. The woman finally gave an exasperated sigh and said, "Fine! If you won't leave, then I will." She got off the swing and slowly made her way back into the house, feeling around with her outstretched arms.
"Oh, boy," Dr. Sam Beckett whispered once again after she was out of earshot, "Al, where are you?"
----------
"Daddy?" Debbie inquired as she went over a bowl with a drying towel, "do you know what caused Parker's blindness?" Her father looked over at her from his position at the sink.
"No, Debs, I don't. Jarod doesn't either. It seems kinda weird, I know. But, I suppose that it doesn't matter how she became blind. She's blind, and that's all that matters now." The two fell into a silence. Then, they heard the back door slam. Briefly following that sound, a noise like something hitting the floor and then a string of curses ringing out. Debbie and Broots looked at each other for a short moment, then they both dropped their rags and rushed into the den.
"Parker!" Debbie shouted as she saw the fallen woman. She deftly knelt at Parker's side and attempted to help her up. Broots stopped short and decided to let his daughter take care of it. Parker wasn't seriously injured, except for maybe her ego. In a moment of reflection, he realized that his daughter was growing up. He knew that she was in high school, but he still liked to baby her most times. The fact that she still called him "Daddy" bothered him slightly. He didn't know if it was merely a term of endearment, or a sign that he was repressing her in some way. But in these past few weeks that Parker had been living with them, Broots was proud of her.
"Daddy," Debbie spoke up, "I'm going to take Parker to her room. Ya think you could manage the dishes without me?" she asked with her eyebrows quirked. She then smiled, something that reminded him of her mother.
Inwardly, he sighed. But he smiled as well as he replied wryly, "Yeah, I guess I can." Debbie giggled and led Parker out of the den. Instead of going back into the kitchen, he noticed Jarod sitting outside all by himself. Broots decided to head outside and see what had Parker all in a tizzy.
----------
Sam was still sitting on the porch swing, trying to determine who, where, and when he was. After many years of leaping, he had honed this skill very well. He could automatically tell that he wasn't too far into the past, if he was in the past at all. He knew that there was a pretty good possibility that he was in his present--the present of Project Quantum Leap. He could tell by the scenery that it was fall, but not in the Mid-West, or the East. Possibly the South, or the Western Coast. He guessed by what the woman called him that he was a man named "Jarod."
Since the weather was fairly nice, he decided to sit and wait for Al, his holographic companion. And that plan was going along swimmingly until he heard someone behind him.
"Jarod?" asked the voice of another man. Sam silently sighed, then turned to face the other man. He began to pretend to be a person he had no clue about.
"Yes?" he replied. The man before him was kind of short, very skinny, and balding. He sat down beside Sam on the swing.
"What happened with Parker?" he asked. Sam sported a confused look.
"Parker?" he asked softly. When the man next to him gave him a "no-duh" look, he said, "Oh, earlier with Parker. I don't know. I think she was overreacting," he stated, adding, "like she tends to do," when the other man had an "I-know-what-you-mean look."
"Yeah, she does tend to do that."
"Mr.--" Sam began before he was interrupted.
"Now, Jarod, what did I tell you about that? Drop the 'Mr.' and just call me Broots. There's no need for those formalities here!" he exclaimed with a good-natured slap on the back. Sam chuckled as Broots smiled.
"Alright," he said while he nodded, "no problem. Broots." The two men laughed for a brief moment before Broots turned his head to the kitchen.
"Do you want to come inside?" Sam shook his head. "Well, I need to get back to the dishes. Come on in when you feel like it." Broots patted him on the back once more before standing up and walking back towards the house.
Sam stayed on the swing, alone again. He actually didn't mind the feeling. After all his years of leaping, he rarely had a moment to himself. Sadly, this moment was to be short lived.
"Uh, Sam?" asked a gravelly voice behind him. Sam turned and smiled at the sight of his oldest friend. Admiral Albert Calavicci was decked out in a bright blue and yellow patchwork shirt, neon green pants, and the usual fedora, stogie in hand.
"Al, where have you been?" Sam asked. Al smiled and took a drag off his cigar.
"Well, Gooshie had a heck of a time locating you this time. And Ziggy, boy, is her Streisand personality showin now more than ever!" he exclaimed while gesturing wildly with both hands. Sam nodded and waited for the information he needed. Al whipped out the brightly colored handlink that resembled a child's Lego creation.
"K, Sam, here's the scoop. Your name is Jarod. . .huh. That's funny. Last name unknown. Weird. Anyway, huh." Al scratched his head before continuing again, "Ziggy says that your exact age is unknown too. Right now you are in a town called Keller, Texas. The date is November 4, 2002. Ziggy doesn't know what you're here to do. Sorry, Sam."
Sam sighed, but nodded. Ziggy never knew what the purpose of the leap was until a very crucial moment. But he never recalled the Leapee having so much swiss-cheesing going on. Then, a question sparked in his mind.
"Al, when I leapt, I was sitting by a woman. Can you ask Ziggy who she is?" Al nodded.
"Her name is Michaela Parker, and her exact age is unknown as well. Records show that her mother died, but the dates of death and the causes don't match. For most of her adult life, she was employed by a cop--cop," Al growled, gave the multicolored handlink a cross look, then swatted it with the base of his palm. "Corporation called the Centre."
"Was?"
"Oh, boy, Sam. Yeah, 'was.' She commits suicide two weeks from now. Sam! I bet that's what you're here to do!" he exclaimed, pointing at Sam with the hand holding the cigar. Sam nodded, rubbed his face, and thought for a bit.
"Why, Al? Did she leave a note? Something?" Al pressed some keys on the handlink and waited for Ziggy to send the information.
"We. . .ah. . . we don't know why, Sam. It just happened." Al sighed.
"Can you give me any more information on the people who I'm staying with?"
"Sure thing, Sam. Just gotta wait. . . bingo! This house belongs to an Edward and Deborah Broots. Edward, also known as Eddie, or Broots, is the father. He's in his mid to late forties, and recently purchased this home. His daughter is Deborah, called Debbie. She is a junior in high school and just received her driver's license. Hmm, must be a smart one. Broots was also an employee of the Centre. Until just recently. Hmm, wonder why that is." Sam listened in on Al's babble until he couldn't take it anymore.
"Al! Go back and see if you can find any information from the person I leaped into. I'm going to take a nap. I'm really tired." Al smiled at his friend and nodded.
"Can do, Sam. I'll see ya in a few." With that, Al pressed a button, and the white rectangle that was the Imaging Chamber's door opened up, and Al walked through it. The door closed behind him, leaving Sam alone once more. He shook his head with a slight laugh, and walked toward the house.
----------
Al walked out of the Imaging Chamber and set a course for the Waiting Room, where the Leapee would be. The sight he happened upon frightened him.
The man, Jarod, was yelling at Verbena Beeks, Project Quantum Leap's resident psychologist. It took Al a bit for his vision to change the figure before him from Sam to Jarod.
"YOU LIE!" Jarod shouted, not even causing Verbena to flinch. "This is the Centre, isn't it!?" He shouted some obscenities, then rushed Verbena. Al had had enough. He ran towards Jarod and blocked him from getting to Beeks. He tackled Jarod to the floor and pinned him there until he stopped struggling.
"Now, listen here, bucko, this is not the Centre. In fact, it's far from it. If you'll calm down, I'll get off of you." Al raised his eyebrows and waited for a response. Jarod nodded slightly and turned his head to the side. Al pushed himself up off of the floor and helped the other man up off the floor with an extended hand.
Jarod walked over and sat in the chair. He sighed and held his head in his hands. Al pulled up another chair and sat facing Jarod.
"Look, I know this is hard for you. But it's not captivity. It would help greatly if you cooperated with us. Now, is there any more information you can give us on who you are? Or Michaela Parker?" Jarod's head shot up at the mention of her name.
"Don't call her Michaela. She'll shoot you," he remarked wryly. "Like I said before, my name is Jarod. I don't know my last name. I was never told what it was. When I was a child, I was taken from my family by the Centre. They exploited my and my ability to 'pretend': to become anyone I want to be. That was in the 60's. Then, in 1996, I escaped. They've been hunting me down ever since."
"So, the Centre is kind of like a prison?" Al asked, interrupting. Jarod smiled as he reverted to a term he'd used before.
"Think hell. With nicer furniture." Al chuckled, but somewhat mirthlessly. Jarod continued. "Miss Parker headed up the team that was in charge of bringing me in. Sydney, a psychologist, and Broots, a technician, made up the remaining parts of the team. Recently, I was shot in the head; a bad result of a pretend. The Centre found me, and told the team I was dead. Well, turns out I was alive. Surprise, surprise. So, Parker had a momentous change, or development, if you ask me, of conscience. The three got me out and we escaped to Montana. Well, the Centre caught up with us. Syd and Broots were out shopping or something. So, Parker and I were the ones caught. Parker was shot a couple of times, I think. I'd thought she was dead, but she was alive. Only blind. So, we escaped, again. You'd think the Centre would wise up and put tons of guards on me. Well, we went to Texas to shack up with Broots for a bit until we establish our new identities and stuff. Until I came here. Where is here, anyway?" he asked finally. Al looked at him, then at Verbena, who had been watching the exchange. She nodded almost imperceptibly.
"Here is Stallions' Gate, New Mexico. A place called Project Quantum Leap."
"I've heard of this," Jarod murmured, "but I never really believed that it could be possible. I think I heard about it when I was still under Centre control. A bright-eyed and wet behind the ears scientist came in to pitch it to the Centre. I think I actually may have met him in passing. But the Centre discounted it as not possible, and refused to fund him." Al sighed. He remembered now why the name of the Centre caused him to feel a bit weird. He'd been there before. Sam had seemed to think that it was a reputable corporation at the time. But Al had had a funny feeling about the place. And he now remembered Jarod, slightly. He hadn't looked happy.
"Yeah," he remarked in a gravelly voice as he lit another cigar, "I remember you now, kid. It was meeting you that made me regret suggesting to Sam that we go there. When I met that nozzle, Mr. Parker, I just wanted to hit him. Parker? Is he related to--"
"Yes," Jarod interrupted tersely, "she's his daughter. He practically brainwashed her. She used to be so like her mother; a kind and gentle soul. Then her father made her feel like she had to be a 'Daddy's little girl.' " Jarod stopped there. The look of anger on his face was very visible.
"Jarod," Al began tentatively, "does Parker have a history of depression?"
"No. Not that I know of. She certainly has been through a lot of heartbreak in the past, and she has an ulcer due to stress and smoking. But no depression. Why?" he asked. Al hesitated. He noticed Verbena nodding again.
"She commits suicide in two weeks from your present time."
----------
One week later
Sam sat in the den with Parker and Debbie. The two ladies were engrossed in a conversation, but Sam remained quiet. He'd struggled with Parker over the past week and tried to initiate conversations, but to no avail. She was one stubborn woman. What was worse, Al had no clue on why Parker would kill herself, even with the full cooperation of Jarod in the Waiting Room.
And time was working against them. But also, Sam felt there was more than just saving Parker's life to this leap. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Jarod?" Debbie asked.
"Yes?"
"Could you stay here with Parker while I go help Daddy with dinner?" She sported a puppy dog face that Sam couldn't resist. He nodded, and the teen shot out of the den. The silence became unbearable. Sam found the remote for the stereo and pushed play. The soft, mellow music of Norah Jones began to play. - This Broots guy must really like Norah Jones. She's practically the only CD that's ever played here, - Sam thought with a mental chuckle. That was alright by him. It was a lot better than most of the music played nowadays.
Parker just sat, looking out the window.
Sam began to wonder if he had any hope of saving her.