The Saddest Little Valentine
Summary: The biggest game of cat and mouse just got bigger. The stakes are higher - lives are on the line this time around, and someone else is after Jarod... or so it seems. Who are they, and can they be worse than the Centre?
Rating: PG13
Chronology: Post-IotH. (Thanks to Ginger6 for clearing the rest of that up for me... we're a little misinformed over here.)
Genre: Suspense/Mystery/Angst... and a little bit of romance, though short lived.
Disclaimer: Are you the author? I am today. Except I'm only pretending...
Note: Nothing major... I know I said in the last chapter that there was going to be a hit and run investigation, and anonymous tips and stuff... just to warn you that it's a little different to what I said it would be. Change of plans for the plot, because I just re-watched the movies to refresh my memory and I got a few new ideas. :)
Chapter II - I Smell A Rat
As a little girl, she had always delighted in spending time with her mother. These moments were few and far between, due to the time consuming job both her parents held. Perhaps the rarity of these mother and daughter interactions only made them more appealing.
She was protected from the darkness of the world she lived in by the innocence only a child can possess. But before long, she was swept up into a hurricane of damage and despair that not even she could turn away from.
- Jarod Heart, The Saddest Little Valentine, chapter two.
The same blue eyes that had been so intense and silencing the day before we sore, bloodshot, and unfocused. Yet, despite this, they were still full of critique - albeit critique aimed at something different than usual - but critique nonetheless.
It was directed at none other than herself. The discerning glance was reflected right back into the glass of the mirror for her to see.
Pure, unadulterated self-repent.
A hand came up to wipe her mouth before returning to its position, mirroring its twin, on the side of the sink. Her head fell down; eyes in the basin and dark, damp tendrils of hair cascading down to frame her face.
It was the eve of a new year, and what had she accomplished?
It had been an... interesting year, to say the least. She couldn't deny it. Things had happened that had definitely put a spin on her insight. Secrets had been unearthed. New ones had been created. People had disappeared. Strangers had arrived. Mistakes had been made.
Others had been blamed.
One soothing cigarette after the Carthis ideal and she was hooked all over again. While they offered short term comfort, they were definitely not good for her in the long run, especially after taking her ulcer into consideration. It was the same with the drinking, but she was too damn depressed to care any more.
She was nowhere closer to finding Jarod than she had been six years ago. Every time she thought she had him, she'd blink and he'd be gone. Something inside of her, something that had been buried for so long, was now struggling to come to the surface. She was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, subconsciously, she didn't want to catch him. After all, there had been so many opportunities, so many times she could have injured him, impeded him, yet her gun had remained idol in her hands.
This was a nonsensical contemplation. Of course she wanted Jarod back. Of course she wouldn't mind putting a bullet through his heart. Hell, with him out of the way she could get on with her life. The lab rat had a more inviting definition for the word freedom than she did these days.
She hated that Centre, that core of her existence, with every fibre of her being. She resented what they had done, detested what they still did, and feared what they were yet to do.
'You tried to stop it,' she muttered, fingers gliding fleetingly over the photo frame that contained a picture of a woman that could have been her twin. 'I wish I had the courage you did. But I'm too scared to try.'
A tear slid down her cheek, and she, out of habit, brushed it away. Discarded it, as a sign of weakness. She couldn't afford to show weakness. Even if she felt it, she had to hide it... it was the only way she knew, and for the most part it got her through.
Of course, there were always exceptions. Despite her efforts, cracks had appeared in the wall she had so solidly built around her heart.
Her father, regardless of his many lies and deceptions, somehow always managed to worm his way back into her affections. He was probably the only person she could allow herself to think of in such away. He was at the head of the awful mess surrounding her life, yet, up until his recent disappearance, would have been the last person she expected to leave her defenseless.
She didn't think he was dead. The unspoken law she had made and lived by was that unless their body had been found, they weren't dead. On that, it was sometimes likely that if their bodies were found, they weren't dead. Anything was possible with the Centre.
They would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. Even if it meant staging their own demise, or swiping their records. It was something she had learned very early in her life. If something, or someone, stood in their way, they would be removed. Permanently.
Whatever it takes.
* * *
Not even twenty four hours with her, and Jarod already knew a lot about Kiya Parker.
For one thing, she was very bold and, from what he could deduce, pretentious. Her mouth got away from her at the best of times; there was no doubt that she had inherited the Parker tongue.
Secondly, along with being extremely assertive and confident, she had immense powers of manipulation. She charmed the socks off almost anyone she spoke too, succeeding in getting what she wanted for the majority of the time.
Jarod had decided that perhaps she wasn't a bad ally to have.
But, as with all good geniuses, she had her bad points. She was very flighty, which had the tendency to annoy him a little. Her apparent superficiality bothered him the most; for while he understood more than anyone that things were not always what they seemed, she was, above all her cleverness, shallow. It hid what she was truly thinking so well that he found it difficult to see inside her mind, something he did without thought to anyone he met.
Jarod liked to know what people were thinking, or, at least, how they were inclined to think. When living a life like his own, it was somewhat essential. Every step was dangerous, putting him on the verge of being discovered, found out.
Amongst her seemingly consistent changes of mood, he had also learned that Kiya loved the colour black - as did he - and hated lasagne, which he had to admit he had never tasted. She was particularly skilled with languages, and had what she called extra sensory perception.
'I'm an observer, rather than a doer. I see and hear things others don't. And somehow, I just know, sometimes,' she sighed, lounging idly on the blue couch in the middle of his apartment. 'I just... sense things.' 'It what we're trained to do,' Jarod informed her as he scanned over an article he had pasted into one of his little red notebooks. 'Get inside people's minds. But I agree, you do seem to have a talent for it. Like you said, you're an observer. I'm a doer.' 'It's not that I don't do things. I'm just not into that get-out-there-and- make-myself-known thing. I watch from the shadows and do what I can from there, rather than jumping into this whole pretender act. I feel safer when I no nobody's watching. I don't have the skills you do, and I wouldn't last long before I'd slip up.' 'Everyone slips up. The important thing is who notices your slip ups,' he said grimly. 'But with time, you'll learn. Now, I've got somewhere to be. And you?' 'Out of sight, out of mind. I know,' she sighed, rolling her eyes. 'Promise you won't come snooping around?' 'Promise,' she said, raising her eyebrows in a tired manner. 'Dad.'
Jarod laughed.
'We're going to get along just fine.'
* * *
'Miss Parker,' Sydney said, placing a hand on her shoulder as she stepped past him out of the elevator.
Her usual, aloof demeanor had returned; the slight vulnerability in her eyes the only remainder of her mood earlier that morning.
She turned, one perfect brow raised questioningly.
Sydney sighed, detecting the look in her eyes but making no comment. He instead gestured down the hall to his office.
'I think you might want to come see Angelo.'
Angelo had in his hand a piece of white chalk, and was frenziedly sketching something on the blackboard that resembled a cherub. He came to an abrupt halt when Miss Parker entered the room.
'Miss Parker in danger,' he said. 'Going to try to kill... Miss Parker.'
She stopped and looked at Sydney, who was watching Angelo with a creased forehead.
'Angelo, who is going to try to kill Miss Parker?' 'The ones... you thought you could trust,' the empath said, looking directly at her. 'And that list is so long,' she said sarcastically, glancing at Sydney. She was slightly unnerved, but hid it well. 'Who is going to try to kill Miss Parker?' Sydney pressed again.
Angelo moved awkwardly towards the desk where the porcelain angel lay. He picked it up, tracing the concaves of its face.
'Angel... sad. Jarod... confused. Miss Parker... in danger.' 'Who is this Angel?' Sydney asked. 'I don't know,' Parker said slowly, thoroughly annoyed. 'Listen, Freud. You get monkey boy to speak. I need to go find my moron.'
Sydney nodded in reply, and she slipped out of her office, resisting the urge to light up another cigarette.
'Broots,' she said coolly, stepping into her office. He looked up from his computer. 'Oh, Miss Parker... hello.' 'Hello,' she replied, drawing out the word with a steely glint in her eye.
Knowing exactly what she was interested in, Broots turned the computer he had been working with to face her.
'I traced the DSA. It's from a couple of months ago.' 'What?' she asked with interest, and eyebrow arching. 'That means...' 'That they're still making them,' Broots finished, lowering his voice. 'But that isn't the half of it. The reason I couldn't find it was because it had been taken. Three other people have accessed it in the past few weeks. You'll never guess who.' 'Raines?' 'Yes, but that's not all. The other two were someone called Mr Anderson, and...' He paused and leaned forward, keeping his voice low. 'Sydney.'
* * *
'Jarod Fallens,' Jarod said genially, extending his hand to the secretary in front of him. 'Welcome to the Cab Company,' she smiled in return, shaking it. 'You'll be required to check in here before starting each shift. I presume you've already been notified of your hours?' 'Yes,' he nodded. 'Right. The staff room is down the hall to the right. In the event that changes need to be made to schedules, shifts are always displayed on the board in there. If you need anything else, just ask.' 'I will. Thank you.'
Jarod followed the secretary's instructions to the staff room. Upon finding it empty, he moved in for a closer inspection, studying shifts and other notices on the board.
'You must be Jarod,' said a voice. 'Mark Field.' 'Nice to meet you,' Jarod smiled, shaking the man's extended hand. 'Lucy told me you'd just come in. So where was it you transferred from?' 'Oregon,' Jarod said, giving the first answer that came to his head. 'Right. Oregon,' Mark said cheerfully, taking out a Styrofoam cup and holding it beneath the coffee machine. 'How are you liking Florida, then?' 'A lot, thank you. I've been here in the past and enjoyed myself.' 'You travel much?' 'You could say I have itchy feet,' Jarod replied, dodging the question habitually.
Mark moved away from the coffee machine and Jarod filled up a cup for himself, joining the other taxi driver at the table.
'You must have known Davy Reynolds.' The man regarded Jarod for a moment before replying. 'Yep. Damn good driver he was, too. What you'd call genuinely responsible. Not the type you'd pick for a drink driver.' 'What happened that night?' Jarod asked as Mark opened the daily paper and began to leaf through it. He looked up at the question. 'Reynolds was doing a night shift. Was picking up two young ladies to take them home when he lost control of the wheel. Swerved and hit a pedestrian. Police found his alcohol level at almost twice the limit. The pedestrian died in hospital a few hours later and Reynolds was charged with manslaughter.'
'Who was she, anyway?' 'Excuse me?' 'That woman back there. With those men in black suits. She is what you're in such a hurry to get away from, right?' 'Unfortunately, yes.' 'So who was she? Obsessed ex girlfriend?' 'Not quite. Just someone I'd like to keep as much distance from as possible.' 'You ain't in no trouble with the police, are you?' 'No. I know this looks compromising, but I'm not a runaway criminal, I promise you.' 'It's alright. You look like you're in a spot of trouble, and this is my good deed for today.' 'Thank you. I owe you. A lot.' 'It's nothing. Where you headed from here?' 'Anywhere. Somewhere not here. Maybe I'll get a job as a cab driver.' 'Well, Jarod. If you ever need some pointers, just look me up. Davy Reynolds.' 'I will. Thank you.'
'Did you know him?' 'Excuse me?' 'Reynolds. Did you know him?' Mark asked, dipping a biscuit into his coffee. 'Yes,' Jarod sighed. 'I owe him a favour.' Mark held the biscuit in his cup a moment too long and it crumbled into the drink. 'Darn,' he cursed. He got up and tipped the remaining coffee down the drain. 'Well, I'd best be off, anyway. Shift starts in five.' 'It was nice meeting you.' 'Same to you. See you around.'
Once Mark had left, Jarod got up and returned to analysing the shifts. He had taken over Davy's, which meant the next day he would be working the Thursday night shift that had resulted in the young driver's jail sentence.
'Jarod, your daughter's here to see you.'
Jarod looked up in slight confusion to see the secretary, Lucy, standing in the doorway. And behind her was... Kiya.
He gave a troubled sigh, frowning as Lucy left and Kiya stepped into the room.
'I thought I told you to stay inside?' 'Ooh, a coffee machine,' she said with interest, ignoring him. 'Kiya...' 'Chill, Dad,' she grinned. She was chewing a piece of gum while she looked around. 'What are you doing here?' 'Looking for you. Did you know that the air conditioner doesn't work in your apartment?' 'Well, we won't be there for long. Did you come here for a reason other than to annoy me?' She regarded him lazily for a moment, her thick dark lashes slightly lowered. 'Nope. I think annoying you was pretty much the idea,' she said eventually, shrugging. 'So when do you start?' Jarod took her shoulders, steering her out of the staff room and down the hall. He waved at Lucy as they passed and left the building. 'Tomorrow,' he said in reply to her question. 'Where are we going?' 'Back to my apartment.' 'But I just came from there.'
Jarod took a deep breath. Whether it was a common trait of teenagers to be easily bored, or Kiya merely required constant stimulation, he didn't know; but it sure seemed to him like the only thing she feared was tediousness. For the most part, it entertained him.
'Well, we're going back, so you can be there again,' he said, his mouth twitching with amusement. 'You need to go shopping. There's no food.' 'No,' he agreed. 'There isn't.' 'I need to go shopping.' He glanced sideways at her. 'I don't have anything except the clothes I'm wearing,' she told him. 'I had to leave my last place unexpectedly.' Jarod understood that completely. 'Where are you staying?' 'With you.' 'What? Since when?' he asked, eyebrows shooting up. 'I don't have anywhere to stay. I told you, nothing but the clothes I'm wearing.' 'And what if I said no?' She fluttered her eyelashes and gave him her most innocent look. 'Fine. But this isn't a permanent arrangement,' he warned. 'That's cool. Thank you!' she said, surprising him by hugging him. 'And tomorrow, we can start trying to find out who my father is.'
Jarod sighed, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
* * *
'This is Sydney.' 'Did you get the DSA?' 'Jarod, I don't understand. This DSA is from -'
Sydney stopped mid sentence as Miss Parker strode into his office, a red nailed index finger pressing down on the intercom. He slowly lowered the receiver.
'Sorry to break up the party,' she said brusquely. 'Miss Parker?' 'Jarod?' she asked in return, raising an eyebrow to Sydney. 'Can I help you?' Sydney asked, scratching his head, fighting a look of amusement. 'Yes, Sid, I think you can. I want to know what you two are up to. And why you have the DSA that Angelo was talking about.' 'You just can't stand being left out, can you, Miss Parker?' Jarod's voice asked wryly from the speaker. 'I'd just like to know why someone who is supposed to be helping catch you seems to be assisting you.' 'Jarod asked for the DSA before Angelo even mentioned it,' Sydney said, holding her gaze as she paced in front of his desk. 'What's on it?' 'It's a surveillance record of SL-27,' Jarod explained. 'From three months ago.' 'Go on,' she said slowly. 'Why do you want it?' 'It's a need to know, Miss Parker. You don't.'
Sydney had to bite back a smile at the look on Miss Parker's face.
'Tell me why you want it, goddammit!' 'I can't,' Jarod said calmly. 'But I'm willing to do a trade. You give me the DSA, and I'll give you something that will be of value to you.' 'Like?' she said, spitting out the word like venom. 'Like the box that can only be unlocked by the key that you found in your father's office.'
At these words, Parker froze.
Almost immediately after returning from Carthis, she had sifted through her father's things, trying to salvage anything of interest or importance before possible secrets of her past were permanently destroyed. She hadn't found much, save a bronze key that had failed to fit any of the locks she had tried.
'Where did you get it?' she asked, turning slowly to catch Sydney's eye. She could almost imagine the look of satisfaction on Jarod's face for having successfully captured her attention. 'Let's just say that you're not the only one who went searching for clues before they disappeared completely. It's no use to me if I can't open it, though, so it's yours if you get me the DSA.' She was fully aware that Jarod could, if he really wanted to, open the box. However, had he opened the box already, he would have told her about anything concerning her. The fact that he hadn't assured her that he had no knowledge of what it contained. She also knew that if she made the deal, Jarod would honour it.
'Fine,' she said, loathing to admit that her curiosity was getting the better of her. 'Glad we could do business. Sydney?' 'Yes, Jarod?' 'Write this down. Café di Sole, Harper Street, Florida.' 'Still in Florida, Wonderboy?' she asked. He didn't answer. 'Sydney, and Sydney alone, will deliver the DSA to Cindy at the counter. In exchange for the disc, she'll give you the box. If he doesn't come alone, then the deal's off. Once he arrives back at the Centre with the box, everything is as normal. I'll collect the DSA, and we'll both have what we want.' 'Any particular time, Jarod? Day?' Sydney asked, lacing his fingers together and leaning back in his chair. 'Whatever time suits you, but as soon as possible. No need to hurry, though. Stress is a killer.'
Parker turned her intense stare on Sydney once Jarod had hung up the phone.
'I want details, Sid.' 'Jarod didn't tell me why he wanted the DSA, Parker. I can't tell you any more than he already has.' 'You were going to give him the DSA behind my back. Why?' Sydney gave a sigh heavy with consideration. 'Giving Jarod the DSA isn't in any way preventing his capture. He only turns to us for help when he's exhausted other options. When he asks for something, it's usually to help somebody else.' 'Why didn't you show me the DSA after Angelo mentioned it?' she pressed, still not satisfied with the response. Sydney raised his hands in defeat. 'I've seen the DSA, Parker. It doesn't concern you. Angelo may have simply picked up on the fact that Jarod wanted it.' 'I'm not buying that,' she said. 'I want to see it.' 'If you're really that concerned...' 'I am,' she assured him frostily, turning his computer around.
She pressed the DSA into the drive, eyes narrowing incisively.
The image that came up was indeed of SL-27. To her confusion, it was a blank. Nobody entered, nobody left... nothing happened. There was no movement whatsoever.
'The whole thing is like this?' Sydney nodded. 'Why would Jarod want a blank?' 'I don't know, Parker.' 'He's up to something, Sid. Has monkey boy said anything of importance?' she asked, eyes narrowed in thought. 'Angelo has said nothing different to what he told us before. He seems to believe someone is really trying to kill you.' 'I'm amazed, really,' she said with sarcasm. 'I work in such a wonderful place. My family is so kind and loving. Who on earth would want to kill me?'
The truth was, the one person she thought actually had a reasonable motive to want to kill her was probably the least likely to actually consider doing so.
'This is serious, Parker. I'd trust Angelo's sense of judgement. Has he ever really led us astray?' 'In all honesty Sid, I don't care anymore. If someone wants to kill me, let them try.'
* * *
'Sixty four bottles of beer on the wall, sixty four bottles of beer...'
Kiya gave up at having reached that number and flicked the air conditioning up a few notches. Her fingers then moved to the radio, searching for a good station.
'Cree craw, toad's foot... geese walk barefoot,' she murmured, hearing a song she liked and turning it up. 'You know, I really prefer your car to this junk bucket.' 'Junk bucket?' Jarod asked, adjusting the rearview mirror. 'OK, so there's nothing wrong with the car itself. But this roof is annoying. I want the open sky above me.' 'That's fine until it starts raining,' he replied with amusement. 'This is Florida. They don't call it the sunshine state for nothing.' 'It's winter.' 'That's beside the point.' There was a short silence before Jarod spoke. 'Who worked with you?' he asked, making a turn. Kiya was thrown by the question, and looked at him in surprise. 'Huh?' she asked softly. 'Who worked with you? At the Centre?' Once she processed what he was asking, her eyes darkened.
Her long hair was wind blown and wild, hanging in messy locks around her face. The unexpected change in conversation caused a look of confusion to flicker across her features, making her appear, for a few fleeting seconds, human. Imperfect. She wasn't a divine, fearless deity. Beneath her glimmering exterior, she was scared and alone.
'Oh,' she said, avoiding his eyes. 'Raines, mostly. My uncle, too, but I had to call him Mr Parker. I didn't know the others. They weren't consistent, always different people. Except for Raines and Mr Parker.' Jarod glanced sideways at her as he flicked on the indicator and turned left up a busy street. 'Mr Parker worked with you? And he knew you were his niece?' 'Oh yeah,' she said, her usual manner returning. 'That's pretty much all he talked about. How my mother was Catherine's sister, and how Catherine died. He told me about his daughter, and how much alike we looked, just like our mothers. But he'd never say anything about my father. He said no one knew who he was, but he was lying.' 'Strange,' Jarod muttered. 'What's strange?' 'That they would tell you so much. The Centre delights in keeping secrets and destroying families... why would they want you to know so much about yours?' 'I don't know. But I can assure you, I wasn't very cooperative when they wanted me to do things.' 'Simulations?' She nodded. 'Most of it was like detective work. They gave me cases to solve. I actually didn't mind doing those. I was taught a lot of physical things, too. Self defense, and how to use weapons. That confused me. I'd thought they wanted my mind. Why would I need to know how to use a gun? It all makes sense now, but I still don't understand why they do it the way they do. If they need our help, why can't they just ask? Why do they have to keep us captives? If it was helping people, I'd do it out of free will.' 'But it's not helping people,' Jarod said, a dark look sweeping over his face. The look that was nearly always present when he spoke of the Centre. 'They turn things around, and use good for evil, selling our findings for the highest bid.'
Jarod pulled up outside the cinema, turning down the radio, to Kiya's annoyance. A young couple got into the taxi.
'Good evening,' Jarod said warmly, smiling at them in the rearview mirror. The girl smiled in return. 'James Street, please.' 'Certainly. By the way, I hope you don't mind - this is my daughter, Kiya. She's here for school research,' he explained. 'Hi,' Kiya said, twisting around in her seat to look at them.
It was a short drive - James Street was a couple of blocks away. It would have been a mild walk that Jarod supposed the pair had declined due to the weather, given the time of day. It was the middle of winter and it was cold, even if they were in the sunshine state.
'Where are we going?' Kiya asked with a sigh once their two latest customers had been dropped off. 'To the restaurant Davy was outside when he hit the pedestrian.' 'Ah. I see we've made the smooth transition from cabby to detective.' 'Momentarily,' Jarod agreed, slowing down for traffic. 'So you really think this guy's innocent?' 'Yes,' Jarod said firmly. 'I only knew him for a short period of time, but from what I've heard from his friends, I'm convinced it was a set up. I don't understand why someone who never drank would be twice the limit, especially on the job.' 'Have you talked to the person he hit?' 'I can't. They died, which is why he was charged for manslaughter.' 'Right. That would explain it.'
When they pulled up, they sat without speaking for a short moment.
'He helped you out once, didn't he?' Kiya asked quietly after awhile. 'Yes. He saved me from your cousin,' Jarod replied, staring blankly out the windscreen. 'And if he hadn't have?' 'Then I'd probably be back at the Centre right about now.' 'Then I can understand why you want to clear his name,' she said, nodding. 'It would mean a lot to me, too.' 'I owe him a lot,' Jarod replied. 'So are you going to get out and look around?' 'No.' 'Why not?' 'I'm thinking.'
Jarod studied the scene carefully. He took in the quality of light, the length of the street, the road signs. Once he had documented it to memory, he started up the cab again, honoring the speed limit and driving the length of the street. Kiya observed mutely, following his discerning gaze as it picked up on every small detail.
'It all fits,' he told her once they were on their way back to the depot. 'He must have been drunk. If he lost control of the vehicle by that turn, he would have had a fast enough reaction time to correct his course before he reached the spot where the victim was hit. So now the only question is... why was he drunk?' 'You think someone drugged him?' 'It's possible.' 'But why would someone do that?' Jarod sighed. 'I don't know.'
* * *
Miss Parker took the DSA out of the drive with frustration. Three times watching it and she still hadn't picked up of anything of importance.
She began to tidy her desk, ready to leave. It was New Year's Eve, and she was going to go home and pour herself a scotch. Jarod had thoroughly aggravated her with the DSA and she was at her wit's end. To her chagrin, she had been unable to uncover any hidden meanings behind the footage that he so desperately needed that he had bargained with her for it. There was absolutely nothing there - the only point it had made was that no one had been on SL-27 that day.
'Go to hell, Jarod,' she spat, though her voice lacked conviction.
The cold night air hit her the moment she stepped outside, but, from years of playing the stone statue, she did not flinch.
She stomped in frustration when she couldn't find her car keys. Upon discovering them in her left pocket, she slid into the car and started the motor, half expecting it to be dead. Despite her cynicism, the vehicle came to life and she pulled out of the car park, wanting nothing more than to collapse on her couch with a nice strong drink.
Her impatient procedure of opening the door was interrupted by her cell ringing. Giving the door a push and slipping inside, she snatched the phone from her pocket.
'What?' she asked testily. 'Now, now, Miss Parker - where's your holiday cheer?' 'It went out with the trash years ago.' The person on the other end chose to ignore the comment. 'So, are you seeing out the year with your family?' 'What family?' she asked dryly, dropping her keys on the kitchen bench top. 'I have Frankenstein for a father and Chief Cannibal for a brother. I'd prefer to spend the night alone, thanks. And you? Are you with your family?' 'No,' he replied. 'But I do have company. Surely Sydney or Mr Broots would be happy to have you?' 'They offered, Jarod. I really don't feel like company tonight.'
She stepped into the dining room. To her surprise, a glass of champagne was awaiting her. In the middle of the table was a single red rose in a glass vase.
'I see you've taken the time out of your busy schedule to be annoyingly kind.' 'Look under your doormat. Happy New Year, Miss Parker.'
She hung up the phone with a sigh, picking up the glass before trudging back into the front of the house. Beneath the door mat was a mustard coloured envelope with her name written on it. Picking it up, she made her way into the parlour where she made herself comfortable in a lounge chair. She took a sip of the champagne, then placed it on the coffee table.
Did she want to open the envelope?
She had never, in the past, hesitated before opening a package from Jarod. They were torn open without thought. But this time, something was holding her back. Did she really want to know anymore horrifying secrets about her past? Could she bare to read something that would most likely convince her further that the terror was inescapable?
A indecisive finger slid down the seal of the envelope, tearing it open. If she didn't look at it, she knew she would be plagued with curiosity for the rest of the evening. Giving in, she pulled out the contents - two thin sheets of her mother's stationery.
'What have you found, Jarod?' she murmured, her breath nearly catching in her throat.
December 31st, 1969
It is New Year's Eve and I can't help but fear what terror and evil the new year is going to bring. I can sense that things here are only going to grow worse, and that I am without the power to stop them.
My greatest regret is that my daughter has been raised in the middle of this turmoil. I want nothing more than to take her away from all this, and to take the other children with me. I hope that somehow I will be able to remove them from this horror, and help them start the fresh lives they deserve. Something inside of me tells me it will never happen, but I have to try.
The words ended with her mother's signature. Parker felt a tear slide down her cheek and absently wiped it away, looking to the second piece of paper. In the middle of it, scrawled in haste, was one word.
Parallax.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Done. Took longer than I thought, but done. Thank you for the reviews - I'd make this a bigger thanks except I'm in a hurry...
The next chapter is Walking On Eggshells and should be more interesting. If you're lucky, a plot might develop ;)
SezZie
Summary: The biggest game of cat and mouse just got bigger. The stakes are higher - lives are on the line this time around, and someone else is after Jarod... or so it seems. Who are they, and can they be worse than the Centre?
Rating: PG13
Chronology: Post-IotH. (Thanks to Ginger6 for clearing the rest of that up for me... we're a little misinformed over here.)
Genre: Suspense/Mystery/Angst... and a little bit of romance, though short lived.
Disclaimer: Are you the author? I am today. Except I'm only pretending...
Note: Nothing major... I know I said in the last chapter that there was going to be a hit and run investigation, and anonymous tips and stuff... just to warn you that it's a little different to what I said it would be. Change of plans for the plot, because I just re-watched the movies to refresh my memory and I got a few new ideas. :)
Chapter II - I Smell A Rat
As a little girl, she had always delighted in spending time with her mother. These moments were few and far between, due to the time consuming job both her parents held. Perhaps the rarity of these mother and daughter interactions only made them more appealing.
She was protected from the darkness of the world she lived in by the innocence only a child can possess. But before long, she was swept up into a hurricane of damage and despair that not even she could turn away from.
- Jarod Heart, The Saddest Little Valentine, chapter two.
The same blue eyes that had been so intense and silencing the day before we sore, bloodshot, and unfocused. Yet, despite this, they were still full of critique - albeit critique aimed at something different than usual - but critique nonetheless.
It was directed at none other than herself. The discerning glance was reflected right back into the glass of the mirror for her to see.
Pure, unadulterated self-repent.
A hand came up to wipe her mouth before returning to its position, mirroring its twin, on the side of the sink. Her head fell down; eyes in the basin and dark, damp tendrils of hair cascading down to frame her face.
It was the eve of a new year, and what had she accomplished?
It had been an... interesting year, to say the least. She couldn't deny it. Things had happened that had definitely put a spin on her insight. Secrets had been unearthed. New ones had been created. People had disappeared. Strangers had arrived. Mistakes had been made.
Others had been blamed.
One soothing cigarette after the Carthis ideal and she was hooked all over again. While they offered short term comfort, they were definitely not good for her in the long run, especially after taking her ulcer into consideration. It was the same with the drinking, but she was too damn depressed to care any more.
She was nowhere closer to finding Jarod than she had been six years ago. Every time she thought she had him, she'd blink and he'd be gone. Something inside of her, something that had been buried for so long, was now struggling to come to the surface. She was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, subconsciously, she didn't want to catch him. After all, there had been so many opportunities, so many times she could have injured him, impeded him, yet her gun had remained idol in her hands.
This was a nonsensical contemplation. Of course she wanted Jarod back. Of course she wouldn't mind putting a bullet through his heart. Hell, with him out of the way she could get on with her life. The lab rat had a more inviting definition for the word freedom than she did these days.
She hated that Centre, that core of her existence, with every fibre of her being. She resented what they had done, detested what they still did, and feared what they were yet to do.
'You tried to stop it,' she muttered, fingers gliding fleetingly over the photo frame that contained a picture of a woman that could have been her twin. 'I wish I had the courage you did. But I'm too scared to try.'
A tear slid down her cheek, and she, out of habit, brushed it away. Discarded it, as a sign of weakness. She couldn't afford to show weakness. Even if she felt it, she had to hide it... it was the only way she knew, and for the most part it got her through.
Of course, there were always exceptions. Despite her efforts, cracks had appeared in the wall she had so solidly built around her heart.
Her father, regardless of his many lies and deceptions, somehow always managed to worm his way back into her affections. He was probably the only person she could allow herself to think of in such away. He was at the head of the awful mess surrounding her life, yet, up until his recent disappearance, would have been the last person she expected to leave her defenseless.
She didn't think he was dead. The unspoken law she had made and lived by was that unless their body had been found, they weren't dead. On that, it was sometimes likely that if their bodies were found, they weren't dead. Anything was possible with the Centre.
They would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. Even if it meant staging their own demise, or swiping their records. It was something she had learned very early in her life. If something, or someone, stood in their way, they would be removed. Permanently.
Whatever it takes.
* * *
Not even twenty four hours with her, and Jarod already knew a lot about Kiya Parker.
For one thing, she was very bold and, from what he could deduce, pretentious. Her mouth got away from her at the best of times; there was no doubt that she had inherited the Parker tongue.
Secondly, along with being extremely assertive and confident, she had immense powers of manipulation. She charmed the socks off almost anyone she spoke too, succeeding in getting what she wanted for the majority of the time.
Jarod had decided that perhaps she wasn't a bad ally to have.
But, as with all good geniuses, she had her bad points. She was very flighty, which had the tendency to annoy him a little. Her apparent superficiality bothered him the most; for while he understood more than anyone that things were not always what they seemed, she was, above all her cleverness, shallow. It hid what she was truly thinking so well that he found it difficult to see inside her mind, something he did without thought to anyone he met.
Jarod liked to know what people were thinking, or, at least, how they were inclined to think. When living a life like his own, it was somewhat essential. Every step was dangerous, putting him on the verge of being discovered, found out.
Amongst her seemingly consistent changes of mood, he had also learned that Kiya loved the colour black - as did he - and hated lasagne, which he had to admit he had never tasted. She was particularly skilled with languages, and had what she called extra sensory perception.
'I'm an observer, rather than a doer. I see and hear things others don't. And somehow, I just know, sometimes,' she sighed, lounging idly on the blue couch in the middle of his apartment. 'I just... sense things.' 'It what we're trained to do,' Jarod informed her as he scanned over an article he had pasted into one of his little red notebooks. 'Get inside people's minds. But I agree, you do seem to have a talent for it. Like you said, you're an observer. I'm a doer.' 'It's not that I don't do things. I'm just not into that get-out-there-and- make-myself-known thing. I watch from the shadows and do what I can from there, rather than jumping into this whole pretender act. I feel safer when I no nobody's watching. I don't have the skills you do, and I wouldn't last long before I'd slip up.' 'Everyone slips up. The important thing is who notices your slip ups,' he said grimly. 'But with time, you'll learn. Now, I've got somewhere to be. And you?' 'Out of sight, out of mind. I know,' she sighed, rolling her eyes. 'Promise you won't come snooping around?' 'Promise,' she said, raising her eyebrows in a tired manner. 'Dad.'
Jarod laughed.
'We're going to get along just fine.'
* * *
'Miss Parker,' Sydney said, placing a hand on her shoulder as she stepped past him out of the elevator.
Her usual, aloof demeanor had returned; the slight vulnerability in her eyes the only remainder of her mood earlier that morning.
She turned, one perfect brow raised questioningly.
Sydney sighed, detecting the look in her eyes but making no comment. He instead gestured down the hall to his office.
'I think you might want to come see Angelo.'
Angelo had in his hand a piece of white chalk, and was frenziedly sketching something on the blackboard that resembled a cherub. He came to an abrupt halt when Miss Parker entered the room.
'Miss Parker in danger,' he said. 'Going to try to kill... Miss Parker.'
She stopped and looked at Sydney, who was watching Angelo with a creased forehead.
'Angelo, who is going to try to kill Miss Parker?' 'The ones... you thought you could trust,' the empath said, looking directly at her. 'And that list is so long,' she said sarcastically, glancing at Sydney. She was slightly unnerved, but hid it well. 'Who is going to try to kill Miss Parker?' Sydney pressed again.
Angelo moved awkwardly towards the desk where the porcelain angel lay. He picked it up, tracing the concaves of its face.
'Angel... sad. Jarod... confused. Miss Parker... in danger.' 'Who is this Angel?' Sydney asked. 'I don't know,' Parker said slowly, thoroughly annoyed. 'Listen, Freud. You get monkey boy to speak. I need to go find my moron.'
Sydney nodded in reply, and she slipped out of her office, resisting the urge to light up another cigarette.
'Broots,' she said coolly, stepping into her office. He looked up from his computer. 'Oh, Miss Parker... hello.' 'Hello,' she replied, drawing out the word with a steely glint in her eye.
Knowing exactly what she was interested in, Broots turned the computer he had been working with to face her.
'I traced the DSA. It's from a couple of months ago.' 'What?' she asked with interest, and eyebrow arching. 'That means...' 'That they're still making them,' Broots finished, lowering his voice. 'But that isn't the half of it. The reason I couldn't find it was because it had been taken. Three other people have accessed it in the past few weeks. You'll never guess who.' 'Raines?' 'Yes, but that's not all. The other two were someone called Mr Anderson, and...' He paused and leaned forward, keeping his voice low. 'Sydney.'
* * *
'Jarod Fallens,' Jarod said genially, extending his hand to the secretary in front of him. 'Welcome to the Cab Company,' she smiled in return, shaking it. 'You'll be required to check in here before starting each shift. I presume you've already been notified of your hours?' 'Yes,' he nodded. 'Right. The staff room is down the hall to the right. In the event that changes need to be made to schedules, shifts are always displayed on the board in there. If you need anything else, just ask.' 'I will. Thank you.'
Jarod followed the secretary's instructions to the staff room. Upon finding it empty, he moved in for a closer inspection, studying shifts and other notices on the board.
'You must be Jarod,' said a voice. 'Mark Field.' 'Nice to meet you,' Jarod smiled, shaking the man's extended hand. 'Lucy told me you'd just come in. So where was it you transferred from?' 'Oregon,' Jarod said, giving the first answer that came to his head. 'Right. Oregon,' Mark said cheerfully, taking out a Styrofoam cup and holding it beneath the coffee machine. 'How are you liking Florida, then?' 'A lot, thank you. I've been here in the past and enjoyed myself.' 'You travel much?' 'You could say I have itchy feet,' Jarod replied, dodging the question habitually.
Mark moved away from the coffee machine and Jarod filled up a cup for himself, joining the other taxi driver at the table.
'You must have known Davy Reynolds.' The man regarded Jarod for a moment before replying. 'Yep. Damn good driver he was, too. What you'd call genuinely responsible. Not the type you'd pick for a drink driver.' 'What happened that night?' Jarod asked as Mark opened the daily paper and began to leaf through it. He looked up at the question. 'Reynolds was doing a night shift. Was picking up two young ladies to take them home when he lost control of the wheel. Swerved and hit a pedestrian. Police found his alcohol level at almost twice the limit. The pedestrian died in hospital a few hours later and Reynolds was charged with manslaughter.'
'Who was she, anyway?' 'Excuse me?' 'That woman back there. With those men in black suits. She is what you're in such a hurry to get away from, right?' 'Unfortunately, yes.' 'So who was she? Obsessed ex girlfriend?' 'Not quite. Just someone I'd like to keep as much distance from as possible.' 'You ain't in no trouble with the police, are you?' 'No. I know this looks compromising, but I'm not a runaway criminal, I promise you.' 'It's alright. You look like you're in a spot of trouble, and this is my good deed for today.' 'Thank you. I owe you. A lot.' 'It's nothing. Where you headed from here?' 'Anywhere. Somewhere not here. Maybe I'll get a job as a cab driver.' 'Well, Jarod. If you ever need some pointers, just look me up. Davy Reynolds.' 'I will. Thank you.'
'Did you know him?' 'Excuse me?' 'Reynolds. Did you know him?' Mark asked, dipping a biscuit into his coffee. 'Yes,' Jarod sighed. 'I owe him a favour.' Mark held the biscuit in his cup a moment too long and it crumbled into the drink. 'Darn,' he cursed. He got up and tipped the remaining coffee down the drain. 'Well, I'd best be off, anyway. Shift starts in five.' 'It was nice meeting you.' 'Same to you. See you around.'
Once Mark had left, Jarod got up and returned to analysing the shifts. He had taken over Davy's, which meant the next day he would be working the Thursday night shift that had resulted in the young driver's jail sentence.
'Jarod, your daughter's here to see you.'
Jarod looked up in slight confusion to see the secretary, Lucy, standing in the doorway. And behind her was... Kiya.
He gave a troubled sigh, frowning as Lucy left and Kiya stepped into the room.
'I thought I told you to stay inside?' 'Ooh, a coffee machine,' she said with interest, ignoring him. 'Kiya...' 'Chill, Dad,' she grinned. She was chewing a piece of gum while she looked around. 'What are you doing here?' 'Looking for you. Did you know that the air conditioner doesn't work in your apartment?' 'Well, we won't be there for long. Did you come here for a reason other than to annoy me?' She regarded him lazily for a moment, her thick dark lashes slightly lowered. 'Nope. I think annoying you was pretty much the idea,' she said eventually, shrugging. 'So when do you start?' Jarod took her shoulders, steering her out of the staff room and down the hall. He waved at Lucy as they passed and left the building. 'Tomorrow,' he said in reply to her question. 'Where are we going?' 'Back to my apartment.' 'But I just came from there.'
Jarod took a deep breath. Whether it was a common trait of teenagers to be easily bored, or Kiya merely required constant stimulation, he didn't know; but it sure seemed to him like the only thing she feared was tediousness. For the most part, it entertained him.
'Well, we're going back, so you can be there again,' he said, his mouth twitching with amusement. 'You need to go shopping. There's no food.' 'No,' he agreed. 'There isn't.' 'I need to go shopping.' He glanced sideways at her. 'I don't have anything except the clothes I'm wearing,' she told him. 'I had to leave my last place unexpectedly.' Jarod understood that completely. 'Where are you staying?' 'With you.' 'What? Since when?' he asked, eyebrows shooting up. 'I don't have anywhere to stay. I told you, nothing but the clothes I'm wearing.' 'And what if I said no?' She fluttered her eyelashes and gave him her most innocent look. 'Fine. But this isn't a permanent arrangement,' he warned. 'That's cool. Thank you!' she said, surprising him by hugging him. 'And tomorrow, we can start trying to find out who my father is.'
Jarod sighed, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
* * *
'This is Sydney.' 'Did you get the DSA?' 'Jarod, I don't understand. This DSA is from -'
Sydney stopped mid sentence as Miss Parker strode into his office, a red nailed index finger pressing down on the intercom. He slowly lowered the receiver.
'Sorry to break up the party,' she said brusquely. 'Miss Parker?' 'Jarod?' she asked in return, raising an eyebrow to Sydney. 'Can I help you?' Sydney asked, scratching his head, fighting a look of amusement. 'Yes, Sid, I think you can. I want to know what you two are up to. And why you have the DSA that Angelo was talking about.' 'You just can't stand being left out, can you, Miss Parker?' Jarod's voice asked wryly from the speaker. 'I'd just like to know why someone who is supposed to be helping catch you seems to be assisting you.' 'Jarod asked for the DSA before Angelo even mentioned it,' Sydney said, holding her gaze as she paced in front of his desk. 'What's on it?' 'It's a surveillance record of SL-27,' Jarod explained. 'From three months ago.' 'Go on,' she said slowly. 'Why do you want it?' 'It's a need to know, Miss Parker. You don't.'
Sydney had to bite back a smile at the look on Miss Parker's face.
'Tell me why you want it, goddammit!' 'I can't,' Jarod said calmly. 'But I'm willing to do a trade. You give me the DSA, and I'll give you something that will be of value to you.' 'Like?' she said, spitting out the word like venom. 'Like the box that can only be unlocked by the key that you found in your father's office.'
At these words, Parker froze.
Almost immediately after returning from Carthis, she had sifted through her father's things, trying to salvage anything of interest or importance before possible secrets of her past were permanently destroyed. She hadn't found much, save a bronze key that had failed to fit any of the locks she had tried.
'Where did you get it?' she asked, turning slowly to catch Sydney's eye. She could almost imagine the look of satisfaction on Jarod's face for having successfully captured her attention. 'Let's just say that you're not the only one who went searching for clues before they disappeared completely. It's no use to me if I can't open it, though, so it's yours if you get me the DSA.' She was fully aware that Jarod could, if he really wanted to, open the box. However, had he opened the box already, he would have told her about anything concerning her. The fact that he hadn't assured her that he had no knowledge of what it contained. She also knew that if she made the deal, Jarod would honour it.
'Fine,' she said, loathing to admit that her curiosity was getting the better of her. 'Glad we could do business. Sydney?' 'Yes, Jarod?' 'Write this down. Café di Sole, Harper Street, Florida.' 'Still in Florida, Wonderboy?' she asked. He didn't answer. 'Sydney, and Sydney alone, will deliver the DSA to Cindy at the counter. In exchange for the disc, she'll give you the box. If he doesn't come alone, then the deal's off. Once he arrives back at the Centre with the box, everything is as normal. I'll collect the DSA, and we'll both have what we want.' 'Any particular time, Jarod? Day?' Sydney asked, lacing his fingers together and leaning back in his chair. 'Whatever time suits you, but as soon as possible. No need to hurry, though. Stress is a killer.'
Parker turned her intense stare on Sydney once Jarod had hung up the phone.
'I want details, Sid.' 'Jarod didn't tell me why he wanted the DSA, Parker. I can't tell you any more than he already has.' 'You were going to give him the DSA behind my back. Why?' Sydney gave a sigh heavy with consideration. 'Giving Jarod the DSA isn't in any way preventing his capture. He only turns to us for help when he's exhausted other options. When he asks for something, it's usually to help somebody else.' 'Why didn't you show me the DSA after Angelo mentioned it?' she pressed, still not satisfied with the response. Sydney raised his hands in defeat. 'I've seen the DSA, Parker. It doesn't concern you. Angelo may have simply picked up on the fact that Jarod wanted it.' 'I'm not buying that,' she said. 'I want to see it.' 'If you're really that concerned...' 'I am,' she assured him frostily, turning his computer around.
She pressed the DSA into the drive, eyes narrowing incisively.
The image that came up was indeed of SL-27. To her confusion, it was a blank. Nobody entered, nobody left... nothing happened. There was no movement whatsoever.
'The whole thing is like this?' Sydney nodded. 'Why would Jarod want a blank?' 'I don't know, Parker.' 'He's up to something, Sid. Has monkey boy said anything of importance?' she asked, eyes narrowed in thought. 'Angelo has said nothing different to what he told us before. He seems to believe someone is really trying to kill you.' 'I'm amazed, really,' she said with sarcasm. 'I work in such a wonderful place. My family is so kind and loving. Who on earth would want to kill me?'
The truth was, the one person she thought actually had a reasonable motive to want to kill her was probably the least likely to actually consider doing so.
'This is serious, Parker. I'd trust Angelo's sense of judgement. Has he ever really led us astray?' 'In all honesty Sid, I don't care anymore. If someone wants to kill me, let them try.'
* * *
'Sixty four bottles of beer on the wall, sixty four bottles of beer...'
Kiya gave up at having reached that number and flicked the air conditioning up a few notches. Her fingers then moved to the radio, searching for a good station.
'Cree craw, toad's foot... geese walk barefoot,' she murmured, hearing a song she liked and turning it up. 'You know, I really prefer your car to this junk bucket.' 'Junk bucket?' Jarod asked, adjusting the rearview mirror. 'OK, so there's nothing wrong with the car itself. But this roof is annoying. I want the open sky above me.' 'That's fine until it starts raining,' he replied with amusement. 'This is Florida. They don't call it the sunshine state for nothing.' 'It's winter.' 'That's beside the point.' There was a short silence before Jarod spoke. 'Who worked with you?' he asked, making a turn. Kiya was thrown by the question, and looked at him in surprise. 'Huh?' she asked softly. 'Who worked with you? At the Centre?' Once she processed what he was asking, her eyes darkened.
Her long hair was wind blown and wild, hanging in messy locks around her face. The unexpected change in conversation caused a look of confusion to flicker across her features, making her appear, for a few fleeting seconds, human. Imperfect. She wasn't a divine, fearless deity. Beneath her glimmering exterior, she was scared and alone.
'Oh,' she said, avoiding his eyes. 'Raines, mostly. My uncle, too, but I had to call him Mr Parker. I didn't know the others. They weren't consistent, always different people. Except for Raines and Mr Parker.' Jarod glanced sideways at her as he flicked on the indicator and turned left up a busy street. 'Mr Parker worked with you? And he knew you were his niece?' 'Oh yeah,' she said, her usual manner returning. 'That's pretty much all he talked about. How my mother was Catherine's sister, and how Catherine died. He told me about his daughter, and how much alike we looked, just like our mothers. But he'd never say anything about my father. He said no one knew who he was, but he was lying.' 'Strange,' Jarod muttered. 'What's strange?' 'That they would tell you so much. The Centre delights in keeping secrets and destroying families... why would they want you to know so much about yours?' 'I don't know. But I can assure you, I wasn't very cooperative when they wanted me to do things.' 'Simulations?' She nodded. 'Most of it was like detective work. They gave me cases to solve. I actually didn't mind doing those. I was taught a lot of physical things, too. Self defense, and how to use weapons. That confused me. I'd thought they wanted my mind. Why would I need to know how to use a gun? It all makes sense now, but I still don't understand why they do it the way they do. If they need our help, why can't they just ask? Why do they have to keep us captives? If it was helping people, I'd do it out of free will.' 'But it's not helping people,' Jarod said, a dark look sweeping over his face. The look that was nearly always present when he spoke of the Centre. 'They turn things around, and use good for evil, selling our findings for the highest bid.'
Jarod pulled up outside the cinema, turning down the radio, to Kiya's annoyance. A young couple got into the taxi.
'Good evening,' Jarod said warmly, smiling at them in the rearview mirror. The girl smiled in return. 'James Street, please.' 'Certainly. By the way, I hope you don't mind - this is my daughter, Kiya. She's here for school research,' he explained. 'Hi,' Kiya said, twisting around in her seat to look at them.
It was a short drive - James Street was a couple of blocks away. It would have been a mild walk that Jarod supposed the pair had declined due to the weather, given the time of day. It was the middle of winter and it was cold, even if they were in the sunshine state.
'Where are we going?' Kiya asked with a sigh once their two latest customers had been dropped off. 'To the restaurant Davy was outside when he hit the pedestrian.' 'Ah. I see we've made the smooth transition from cabby to detective.' 'Momentarily,' Jarod agreed, slowing down for traffic. 'So you really think this guy's innocent?' 'Yes,' Jarod said firmly. 'I only knew him for a short period of time, but from what I've heard from his friends, I'm convinced it was a set up. I don't understand why someone who never drank would be twice the limit, especially on the job.' 'Have you talked to the person he hit?' 'I can't. They died, which is why he was charged for manslaughter.' 'Right. That would explain it.'
When they pulled up, they sat without speaking for a short moment.
'He helped you out once, didn't he?' Kiya asked quietly after awhile. 'Yes. He saved me from your cousin,' Jarod replied, staring blankly out the windscreen. 'And if he hadn't have?' 'Then I'd probably be back at the Centre right about now.' 'Then I can understand why you want to clear his name,' she said, nodding. 'It would mean a lot to me, too.' 'I owe him a lot,' Jarod replied. 'So are you going to get out and look around?' 'No.' 'Why not?' 'I'm thinking.'
Jarod studied the scene carefully. He took in the quality of light, the length of the street, the road signs. Once he had documented it to memory, he started up the cab again, honoring the speed limit and driving the length of the street. Kiya observed mutely, following his discerning gaze as it picked up on every small detail.
'It all fits,' he told her once they were on their way back to the depot. 'He must have been drunk. If he lost control of the vehicle by that turn, he would have had a fast enough reaction time to correct his course before he reached the spot where the victim was hit. So now the only question is... why was he drunk?' 'You think someone drugged him?' 'It's possible.' 'But why would someone do that?' Jarod sighed. 'I don't know.'
* * *
Miss Parker took the DSA out of the drive with frustration. Three times watching it and she still hadn't picked up of anything of importance.
She began to tidy her desk, ready to leave. It was New Year's Eve, and she was going to go home and pour herself a scotch. Jarod had thoroughly aggravated her with the DSA and she was at her wit's end. To her chagrin, she had been unable to uncover any hidden meanings behind the footage that he so desperately needed that he had bargained with her for it. There was absolutely nothing there - the only point it had made was that no one had been on SL-27 that day.
'Go to hell, Jarod,' she spat, though her voice lacked conviction.
The cold night air hit her the moment she stepped outside, but, from years of playing the stone statue, she did not flinch.
She stomped in frustration when she couldn't find her car keys. Upon discovering them in her left pocket, she slid into the car and started the motor, half expecting it to be dead. Despite her cynicism, the vehicle came to life and she pulled out of the car park, wanting nothing more than to collapse on her couch with a nice strong drink.
Her impatient procedure of opening the door was interrupted by her cell ringing. Giving the door a push and slipping inside, she snatched the phone from her pocket.
'What?' she asked testily. 'Now, now, Miss Parker - where's your holiday cheer?' 'It went out with the trash years ago.' The person on the other end chose to ignore the comment. 'So, are you seeing out the year with your family?' 'What family?' she asked dryly, dropping her keys on the kitchen bench top. 'I have Frankenstein for a father and Chief Cannibal for a brother. I'd prefer to spend the night alone, thanks. And you? Are you with your family?' 'No,' he replied. 'But I do have company. Surely Sydney or Mr Broots would be happy to have you?' 'They offered, Jarod. I really don't feel like company tonight.'
She stepped into the dining room. To her surprise, a glass of champagne was awaiting her. In the middle of the table was a single red rose in a glass vase.
'I see you've taken the time out of your busy schedule to be annoyingly kind.' 'Look under your doormat. Happy New Year, Miss Parker.'
She hung up the phone with a sigh, picking up the glass before trudging back into the front of the house. Beneath the door mat was a mustard coloured envelope with her name written on it. Picking it up, she made her way into the parlour where she made herself comfortable in a lounge chair. She took a sip of the champagne, then placed it on the coffee table.
Did she want to open the envelope?
She had never, in the past, hesitated before opening a package from Jarod. They were torn open without thought. But this time, something was holding her back. Did she really want to know anymore horrifying secrets about her past? Could she bare to read something that would most likely convince her further that the terror was inescapable?
A indecisive finger slid down the seal of the envelope, tearing it open. If she didn't look at it, she knew she would be plagued with curiosity for the rest of the evening. Giving in, she pulled out the contents - two thin sheets of her mother's stationery.
'What have you found, Jarod?' she murmured, her breath nearly catching in her throat.
December 31st, 1969
It is New Year's Eve and I can't help but fear what terror and evil the new year is going to bring. I can sense that things here are only going to grow worse, and that I am without the power to stop them.
My greatest regret is that my daughter has been raised in the middle of this turmoil. I want nothing more than to take her away from all this, and to take the other children with me. I hope that somehow I will be able to remove them from this horror, and help them start the fresh lives they deserve. Something inside of me tells me it will never happen, but I have to try.
The words ended with her mother's signature. Parker felt a tear slide down her cheek and absently wiped it away, looking to the second piece of paper. In the middle of it, scrawled in haste, was one word.
Parallax.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Done. Took longer than I thought, but done. Thank you for the reviews - I'd make this a bigger thanks except I'm in a hurry...
The next chapter is Walking On Eggshells and should be more interesting. If you're lucky, a plot might develop ;)
SezZie