The Saddest Little Valentine

by notbang

The biggest game of cat and mouse just got bigger. The stakes are higher - lives are on the line and someone else is after Jarod... or so it seems. Who are they, and can they be worse than the Center?

8. Chapter VIII: Sub Rosa

 SEQ CHAPTER h r 1The 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.

Genre: General/Action/Adventure... you name it, we got it.

Disclaimer: Are you the author? I am today. Except I'm only pretending...

Chapter VIII - Sub Rosa

As a little girl she had always wanted a twin. Someone she could share her every thought with. A best friend that was always there, even at night time, when the imagination can get carried away. She'd fall asleep imagining what she'd look like. What her name would be.

She often sat alone, just wondering who exactly she really was and whether or not her life truly held any meaning. The dreams were recurring and it had been a long time since she had received a good night's sleep as a result of them. She felt as if she were missing her other half; her other puzzle piece... and without it, she would never feel complete again.

For a long time, it had been her mother that occupied that place. But as her mother was torn away from her, so was her innocence, leaving her alone in the big scheme of things, without anyone to fill the dark void that eventually began to control her.

More than anything, she wanted to close that gap. To allow someone into her heart to make amends. But the sun had not shined for so long that her hopes began to fade. Though she never let go.

Most days, it was the fantasy that someone so perfectly right for her was out there that got her by.

          - Jarod Heart, The Saddest Little Valentine, chapter eight.

'Have you seen this man?' Parker asked in a bored manner, handing a photograph to the classily dressed desk clerk at the Ivyledge Hotel. 'He may have been staying with a young girl. Tall, brunette.'

'I'm terribly sorry, Miss, but we are unable to disclose information about any of our customers,' he replied, rapping his fingers on the desk.

'What a shame,' she answered before flashing a smile at the bellboy. 'Take a picture. It'll last longer.'

She stepped back and turned around to leave. Broots, confused at her easy defeat, called after her.

'That's it? But Miss Parker -'

'Miss Parker?' interrupted the clerk, loosening somewhat. 'Please forgive me. Mr Crown advised me in advance that you would be coming by. In fact, he asked me to give you this.'

He reached down under the desk and produced a cardboard box. He set it down and slid it towards her, placing a set of keys on top of it.

'Eighth floor. Penthouse suite. He informed us that you would clean out his belongings on his behalf and check out. As for the brunette; I can't help you there. Mr Crown was always alone. Although he did want to send out his heartfelt apologies for missing you. Some other engagements called for his presence, and he had to leave unexpectedly,' the man explained.

'I'll bet he did,' Parker said, picking up the box and depositing it on Broots.

The tech was startled by the weight, and stumbled slightly.

'Watch it,' she hissed, heading for the elevator, her two accomplices not far behind.

'Wow,' Broots commented once they had stepped into the room.

The door opened to reveal a regally decorated interior, decked out in white and gold. A window stretched from floor to ceiling on the west wall, and an exquisite wooden bed was positioned to the north. The coverlet, like the carpet, was a snowy white.

'What's the matter, Broots? Never been in a five star hotel before?'

'Well actually, no,' he admitted. 'And the penthouse suite? Miss Parker, I've only ever seen them in movies!'

'Now why doesn't that surprise me?' she asked dryly.

'This is an... interesting change for Jarod,' Sydney said, speaking up for the first time. 'He doesn't usually choose to stay in places of such elegance.'

'From rags to riches,' Parker remarked. 'It is an interesting change, though I wonder what has brought it on. Especially since rat boy seemed to have taken a liking to cubby houses closer in era to the cavemen lately. If you ask me, Sid, your boy has seen Pretty Woman one too many times.'

'Jarod's lack of contact recently is telling me that perhaps he is treating himself to a vacation,' the accented doctor told her, his hand on his chin in thought. 'Some time away from the Centre.'

'Yeah. On the Centre,' Broots said, eyes wide as he handed Parker the slip of paper that held the details to the room that had been left on the bedside stand. 'It seems that Jarod decided to chase up some old debts. He's charged it to Centre funds, and look at it all...'

'A few nights spent in the lap of luxury doesn't even begin to make up for a lifetime at the Centre,' Parker justified distractedly, running her fingers over the engraved headboard of the king sized bed. 'And all the riches in the world couldn't hold a candle to what he really wants.'

'What's that?' Broots asked, thrown by her sudden display of empathy.

'His family. His freedom. A chance at life,' Sydney said. 'Everything that the Centre stole from him.'

A strange silence passed over the three of them that confused them all. Breaking out of her reverie and moving away from the fancy bed to stand at Sydney's side by the window, Parker swallowed and disturbed the quiet.

'Look at us, standing here feeling sorry for him,' she said, amused at the irony of it all. 'He's the one living in a first class world of splendor, free to do as he pleases while we're stuck traipsing across the country trying to track him down. Am I the only one that sees something wrong with this picture?'

She wasn't even going to deny she believed Jarod deserved more than what he had. Her actions and words had communicated more than she could take back. Times had changed and the cold front that she channeled from all the envy and spite she harbored for the pretender was no longer quite as convincing as it had been in the past, when it had been so much easier to despise him. Whether or not she wanted to admit it, something had happened in Scotland. Something that had opened her eyes. She just wasn't ready to look yet.

While she had spoken, briefly, with Sydney about Carthis, she had left many of the major points out of her story, including her... encounter with Jarod. There was no way in hell she was telling him about that particular detail. The psychiatrist would have a field day, for sure, and she would never hear the end of it. She had no doubts in her mind that finding out what had happened - or, more accurately, what had been about to happen - would leave Sydney tickled pink and walking down the corridors whistling and saying, 'I told you so.' It was either that or a very long lecture on the emotional ramifications of their actions, and she didn't quite know which would be worse.

Despite her failing to mention it in an attempt to dissuade him from asking questions, she knew her obvious reluctance to discuss the topic had left Sydney to draw his own assumptions of what had transpired, something that scared her. Sydney was often aware of much more than he ever let on, which meant it was highly possible he had a good idea of the events on the island. And there was also the fact that Jarod could have quite easily relayed the entire situation to his mentor, though she had reason to believe otherwise.

'Jarod may have gotten the worse end of the deal, but he wasn't the only one that had his life, family and freedom ripped from him,' she said quietly, detaching herself at the thought.

'Miss Parker...'

'I'm fine, Sid,' she said, removing his hand from her shoulder.

She took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking heavenward.

'Are you sure, Parker? Something seems to be bothering you,' Sydney pressed, eyes narrowed incisively.

'I'm just tired,' she insisted. 'I haven't been sleeping well these past few nights. Let's just... let's just get this over and done with.'

'Do you want to talk about it?'

She glanced at him, her ice blue eyes idiosyncratically aloof, showing only a small amount of the inner conflict they masked. Her gaze was neither frosty nor heated.

'No. Not now. Not here,' she replied eventually, turning away. 'Like I said, I'm just tired.'

Sydney nodded and backed off, though dissatisfied with her response. Something was troubling her, and had been doing so ever since she had returned from Carthis. He wished she would tell him what, but he knew better than to push her too hard lest she shut him out completely.

'What's in the box?' she asked Broots, massaging her brow.

'I, uh... I don't know,' he said, moving over to the foot of the bed where he had left it and lifting the flaps. 'Oh, wow. I haven't seen one of these things since I was a kid.'

He pulled out the contents of the package; an oversized model of what appeared to be a jack-in-the-box.

Miss Parker rolled her eyes and walked over, snatching the toy off him. She eyed the handle warily for a moment before turning the crank. Six rotations later, the lid flew open and the figure sprung out, bouncing on the spring a few times before flopping over the edge of the box.

She gave it a disdainful look before glancing at Sydney.

'Now's the part where you assign some cryptic meaning to Jarod's latest... creation,' she said, lifting the head of the doll on the spring. Her eyes narrowed. 'That is, if I don't find one first.'

'What is it, Parker?' Sydney asked.

'Raines's lap dog. Anderson,' she murmured, handing the box to the doctor.

There was no mistaking who the head had been fashioned from.

'But why would Jarod leave us a jack-in-the-box with Mr Anderson's head in it?' Broots asked.

'Perhaps Jarod is trying to tell us that Mr Anderson is hiding away, and biding his time... that he is waiting to jump out at us when we least expect it,' Sydney replied ingrainedly.

Parker cast another glance at the box, then caught his gaze.

'The only question is... to do what?'

xxx

Amherst, Massachusetts was the scene of Jarod's latest pretend, and he couldn't help but admit it felt somewhat strange to be back in the state. With every step he took, the city he had been in prior to Scotland reminded him exactly what it was he was supposed to be doing, which, ironically, was precisely the thing he happened to be not doing.

The holidays were over, and his initial intentions had been to focus primarily on tracking down his father. However, as it had a tendency to happen, Jarod had wound up thinking with his heart, rather than his head, and had found himself thrown into another unsolved mystery that he had been unable to pull himself away from.

As per usual, his powers of adaptation had allowed him to smoothly make the transition from living like a king back to his age old preference; a dark, cosy lair with minimal furniture and a lot of scattered items adorning the free spaces.

What exactly had possessed him to slip into one of the flashiest hotels in the country and announce himself as the independently wealthy Mr Crown, he did not know. In the past he had restricted his access to Centre assets to when the end result benefitted others; it was uncharacteristic of him to use the money for personal enjoyment. However, he had fancied himself a spending spree and indulged it, figuring that the Centre more than owed it to him.

But now he was back to work, and his newest case was one of the ones that had grabbed him from the inside. It fit the description of his Achilles heel perfectly; a child, stolen from her parents. A young girl, ripped from her bed in the middle of the night.

It was too close to his heart for him to turn away.

'Agent Jarod Nash,' he said, extending his hand to the investigator that had just arrived on the scene.

'Christina Morgan,' she replied, and Jarod had the familiar experience of having his eyes searched as she shook his hand. 'So what have we got here?'

'Not much. It was a clean getaway. No signs of struggle. Just an empty bed, with a flower left on the pillow. The possible mark of a signature killer. I've got someone looking into it.'

He watched her as she nodded and stepped over to the bed, leaning over the white flower and examining it closely.

'A daisy. Often connected to graveyards,' he commented.

'It's also a symbol of purity,' she replied, eyes narrowed. 'Have CSI check it out. I want a report on any foreign substances, and any fingerprints our kidnapper may have left behind. Like you said, this appears to be a signature killer. We may be looking at a repeat offender.'

'Forensics should be here soon,' an officer informed them, leaning around the doorway.

Christina moved towards the window, brushing her fingers over the white gauze curtains, a faraway look in her eyes.

'He uses the daisy as a sign of their innocence,' she murmured. 'To replace the peaceful picture he disturbs when he takes them during their slumber. He doesn't like to interrupt it, but by leaving the flower behind he feels he makes up for what he has destroyed.' She turned, meeting Jarod's eyes. 'Sorry. It's...'

'Complicated. I know,' he finished, smiling.

'You've worked with a profiler before,' she noted.

'I've had experiences,' he agreed, following her as she dipped under the tape barring the door and leaving the bedroom.

'Have you spoken with the girl's parents?'

'Briefly. I thought I'd wait until you arrived,' he replied. 'They're downstairs.'

Understandably, the parents were extremely distressed. Jarod's heart had gone out to them, as he had witnessed too many times the traumas that families went through during such events.

Amanda Pierce had been two weeks away from her sixth birthday when she had been taken. Photo frames portrayed a cute, smiling girl with sandy brown pig tails and crystal blue eyes. It was hard to imagine that the same family in the pictures, happy and laughing, was the same one that they were to meet now. The faces were pale and sunken with rings under the eyes, all signs suggesting lack of sleep and intense anxiety. It was something that Jarod was too used to seeing.

'Mr and Mrs Pierce, I'm Jarod Nash, and I'm with the FBI.'

'Christina Morgan,' Christina added, coming up beside him. 'Mr and Mrs Pierce, we understand this is a trying time for you, but it is necessary that we ask you some questions regarding your daughter's abduction.'

'Of course,' Mr Pierce responded, extending his hand. 'Please, call me Sean. This is my wife, Samantha, and our son, Robbie.'

'Call me Sam,' the woman said, also shaking hands.

'It's nice to meet you,' Jarod smiled. 'And you, too, Robbie.'

The boy, who seemed to be about twelve years old, remained silent, observing the two investigators with the same round, blue eyes that he shared with his sister and, as Jarod had now seen, his mother.

'Please,' Sam said miserably. 'Bring me back my little girl.'

'We'll do everything we can,' Christina assured her. 'For now, we'd really appreciate it if you told us everything you know about what happened.'

'There's not much to tell,' Sean said. 'Sam went upstairs to get Amanda. We thought it was strange that she hadn't come down yet; usually she's the first one awake. But we had just assumed she'd overslept. When Sam went into her room, she was gone.'

'Was there anything else missing from the room at all?' Christina asked.

'No. Everything was perfectly in place. The bed made and everything,' Sam replied.

'Had you noticed anyone taking a special interest in Amanda lately? At the school, or while you were out?' Jarod inquired.

Sam and Sean looked at each other, then shook their heads.

'Not that I've seen,' Sam said.

'Thank you, both of you,' Christina smiled, then stepped away.

'No signs of struggle. An immaculate crime scene. This was a planned, organised kidnapping,' she said to Jarod. 'It's been twenty four hours without any indication of a ransom being wanted. I think we've got ourselves a killer.'

He nodded tightly.

'Then we may be too late. If not, we don't know how much time we have.'

'We need those reports ASAP. The lily has to mean something, and if we've got a signature killer on record, it's a start,' she replied. 'Forensics should have their results in within a couple of hours, but I'm not counting on them finding anything. If the bedroom was clean, then the flower will probably be the same.'

'So we're relying on past cases,' Jarod said grimly.

'There's always the possibility that we're dealing with a copycat, and if they've gotten the information, then so will we.'

'You sound confident that there is information out there,' he commented.

She glanced at him.

'I only hope I'm right,' she said. 'Because if there isn't, we don't have much else to go on.'

xxx

Sydney folded his arms, watching Miss Parker with interest as she sat on the steps to the Sim Lab, gazing off at something only she could see, a distant look on her face as she twisted her mother's platinum ring around her finger.

'Are you sure she's alright, Sid? I mean, she's been so quiet, ever since we got back,' Broots whispered, glancing over at his boss.

'I think Miss Parker's strange behaviour has something to do with the time of year, Broots. Do you know what next week is?'

'Gosh, Sydney, it's that time already? I mean, time's gone so fast, I didn't even know! No wonder she's upset. But usually... isn't she usually alright until, you know, the day?' the tech asked.

'Her mother's supposed death had a great impact on her, but I think you're right. Something else has been bothering her, I only wish she would tell me what,' Sydney sighed. 'I fear that whatever is troubling her may be getting the better of her.'

The doctor was genuinely concerned for his protégée. Her distant manner, while not uncommon, seemed to have shifted from being coolly aloof to faraway and remote. He would even go as far to describe it as lost. Hopelessness. And although she was most definitely a troubled woman, 'lost' and 'hopeless' were generally not words used to describe Miss Parker.

'I just wish there was something we could do. It's just she's done so much for us, Sid. For me. With Debbie, and everything. I hate seeing her this way. I never thought I'd say this, but I want her to snap at me, or call me an idiot, or something. Something that shows she's still the same Miss Parker!'

'Don't worry too much, Broots. I'm sure Miss Parker will tell us when she's ready. Until then, the most we can do is be here if she needs us,' Sydney assured the tech.

Quite suddenly, and without warning, Parker got to her feet, smoothed the wrinkles from her clothes and wandered over.

'Miss Parker, are you... are you okay?' Broots asked.

She looked at him in surprise.

'I'm fine, Broots. But thanks,' she sighed, fleetingly placing her hand on his shoulder before perching herself on the edge of the desk. 'Any leads on boy wonder?'

'Oh, that reminds me,' Broots said. 'This came this morning, Miss Parker. It looks like it's from Jarod.'

She glanced at the box in front of her, observing it with mild interest, wondering what twisted gift she had been sent this time. After what seemed an age of appraisal, she unceremoniously ripped it open and removed its contents to position it on the desk.

Both her and Sydney's gazes narrowed piercingly as they settled on the model Jarod had sent them - a synthetic rat skewered on a turnspit. To Parker, when connected to the jack-in-the-box the pretender had left behind earlier, the message was eerily clear.

'What is he trying to tell us?' Broots asked, eyes slightly wide with nauseous wonder.

'He's trying to tell us,' Parker said, her own aloof blue orbs never leaving the rodent, 'that Anderson is going to cook us up a meal. And the menu reads lab rat. Rotisserie style.'

She turned to meet Sydney's eyes, unable to displace the feeling of discomfort that washed over her when she realised exactly what the pretender was telling them.

'In other words, Jarod knows about the raising of the stakes. Which means this game of cat and mouse just got bigger.'

'But what... how... how could Jarod know?' Broots pressed.

'How does Jarod know half the stuff he knows?' she returned. 'All that matters is that he does know, which can only mean bad news.'

'You look concerned, Parker,' Sydney commented.

'Sydney, if Jarod knows that a threat has been placed on our lives, I'm sure you can figure it out. He's going to do something stupid. That is what he's telling us.'

Amused, Sydney rubbed his chin in an attempt to mask a smile.

'Do you really believe that Jarod would willingly return to the Centre?'

'I'm not saying he's going to waltz in here waving a white flag, Sid. I'm saying that he's got a plan circulating in that oversized and overrated brain of his and the fact that he's letting us know about it makes me wonder what exactly he's up to.'

Something seemed to click, and all of a sudden, things appeared to be back to normal. The abrupt, businesslike no-nonsense manner was back, and her eyes were sharp with the makings of a new endeavour.

'I'm getting damn sick of sitting in the dark lately,' she said, getting to her feet to pace. 'Everything's being kept under wraps and I want to know what's going on. With Lyle in particular. He's up to something.'

'And this surprises you?' Sydney asked.

'Not in the least. But I want to know what. And whether or not it's got something to do with the price that seems to have been put on my head. I'd rather it him than the Centre's new resident assassin.'

'You think that Mr Anderson might not just be after Jarod? That he might be after you, too?' Broots frowned.

'It's a possibility, though I'd prefer it were Lyle. Better the devil you know,' she replied. 'Something about Mr Anderson gives me the creeps.'

'What are you going to do, Parker?' Sydney asked, brows furrowed.

'I'm going to do a little weaseling of my own. It's about time I got baby brother back for riffling through your office.'

'You need to be careful, Miss Parker. You could be digging yourself into a hole,' the doctor warned.

'Which would make me the one throwing the dirt. I know what I'm doing, Sydney, but thanks for your concern.'

She shot Broots an odd look.

'What?' she asked warily.

'Digging a hole... throwing the dirt. It's just... that was a great one, Miss Parker,' the tech rambled, grinning slightly. 'I mean, it would make you the one holding a shovel, too, right?'

'Right, Broots,' she agreed dismissively, placing her hands on his shoulders and steering him towards the door. 'Now, listen - I need you to find out what Lyle's up to. Raines has disappeared again, which leaves him in charge, so I'll be damned if he didn't have anything to do with it. The old wheeze bag may not be my favourite family member but I'd prefer it if he stayed where I can see him.'

Once he had left, she turned to look at Sydney.

'If he's up to something, I have to know about it,' she told him flatly.

'I'm simply concerned that you're going too far behind enemy lines,' was his reply, 'and the affect that all this is having on you. Slow down, Parker. Don't let your desire for the truth cloud your good judgement.'

With a final nod, the doctor left, leaving her to her own thoughts.

xxx

Jarod looked up from his paperwork when Christina pushed open the door with her foot, edging inside while carefully balancing some files, two Styrofoam cups of coffee and a bulging paper bag. He immediately got to his feet and relived her of the coffee cups, placing them on the desk.

'I see you've paid a visit to the local bakery,' he said, noticing the stamp on the bag.

'Yeah, this calls for a celebration,' she said, dropping down in a chair and waving the files at him before sliding them across the desk to him. 'We've hit pay dirt.'

'The Fiore Killings,' he read aloud, scanning over the first page. 'Fiore?'

'Mm-hmm. The Italian word for flower. Nicknamed so because the last investigator was Italian, and he decided that the "Flower Killings" didn't sound right, and I think I see where he was coming from. Flower because... well, read on and I'm sure you'll get the picture.'

'A killer that leaves flowers to indicate different stages of the kidnapping. Interesting, if nothing else,' he sighed, frowning. 'And it sounds like our guy.'

'Uh-huh. But there's more good news. The ETDs are all five days after the children are reported missing. Which means that if this is our guy, there's a good chance Amanda is still alive.'

Christina reached across and took the file from him, flicking through it until she came to the document she was looking for. She held it up to him.

'He was never caught. The crime is organised; immaculate. We're probably looking at someone of high intelligence.'

'When was the last killing?' Jarod asked.

'May, two years ago. Midland, Texas,' she replied.

'Our killer gets around.'

'Tell me about it. Utah, California, Kentucky, Ohio... The last investigator was never able to find a pattern, but he was certain that there was one,' she said, shaking her head slowly as she skimmed over the list of locations. She looked back up at him. 'The MO, however, stays consistent. All eight victims were found strangled, and displayed in the same way. Hair brushed. Nails painted. Whoever he is, this guy sounds pretty messed up. He dresses them up like dolls and puts them on display, like an artist showing off his work,' she said with distaste.

'Where were the bodies found?'

'Various places... always clues pointing to them, but by the time they started making sense, it was too late.'

'Clues?' Jarod echoed.

'Notes. Absolute nonsense that suddenly becomes clear when it's too late to do anything.'

'There was no such note left at the crime scene,' he said.

'No. They all arrived exactly two days later.'

'Any similarities in victims?'

'All were young girls, ranging in age from four to six years old. All with names beginning with the letter 'a'.'

Jarod sighed, picking up the two Styrofoam cups and crossing the room to stand beside her. He offered her one of the cups, and she took it with a small smile.

They were interrupted by a tapping at the door. One of the office clerks was there, carrying a white cardboard tube.

'This just came for you, Agent Nash. There's no return address,' he explained, handing over the package.

'Thank you,' Jarod replied.

He exchanged a glance with Christina before opening the top end of the tube. Inside was a single red rose.

'Stage one. The rose,' she sighed. 'This guy's heavy on symbolism, from the looks of it.'

'What do you get from it?' Jarod asked, extending the flower for her to take.

'It could mean a range of things. Roses are a popular flower. They can be associated with celebration, romance, beauty. In ancient Rome the rose was a sign of secrecy. Conversations carried out "sub rosa", or, "under the rose", were supposed to remain confidential,' she said, carefully sliding her finger along the stem, avoiding the thorns. 'He could just be using it as a sign of celebration of beauty. The fact that the ancient Roman meaning applies to our current state of cluelessness could be pure coincidence.'

Jarod nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. He was about to ask if he could get copies of the 'notes' from the previous killings, when the phone rang.

'Agent Nash,' he said, picking up the receiver.

'I'm assuming you got my rose,' the voice on the other end responded nonchalantly.

Jarod straightened up, catching Christina's gaze.

'Is Amanda alright?' he asked.

'Of course she is, Agent Nash, you should know that,' the other man drawled. 'Five days. Isn't that the deal?'

'I don't recall this ever being about a deal,' Jarod said darkly.

'I gave up my game two years ago because the investigator assigned to my case asked me to. I did as he requested because he stopped doing his job, and it's no fun when you're playing by yourself. Now whether you see it or not, this is very much a game. Everything you need to know is right there in front of you.'

'What makes you think I want to play this game of yours?'

'I know people like you, Agent Nash; I've been messing with their minds for years. Compelled by past events in your tragic lives. Haunted by the ones you never saved. You're all so very much the same. I can only hope that you will be a more challenging adversary.'

The terminating beep that Jarod was so accustomed to hearing sounded in his ear before he could reply. Frustrated, he slammed the receiver down into the cradle.

'What did he say?' Christina asked, ignoring his minor outburst.

'That this is a game. That he's looking forward to a more challenging adversary than his last.'

The kidnapper's words had reminded him of the conversations he'd had with the wayward pretender Alex not too long ago, when he had replaced the agent assigned to tracking down the infamous "Chameleon". The evocative reminder only increased his irritation as his thoughts momentarily turned to the sick game Alex had wanted him to play, and the cryptic taunts concerning his existence that he had been supplied with.

'Hey, calm down. We'll figure this out,' Christina assured him. 'We need to refrain from breaking the phone, in case he calls again.'

'I'll try my best,' Jarod said wryly.

'And I'll go and find someone that can get us a tap,' she replied, putting the papers down on the table and picking up her coffee cup. On her way to the door, she paused at the board, where she had pinned up the pictures of the killer's previous victims. 'How could anyone do such a thing?'

Giving him a small smile, she turned and left. Jarod stepped over to stand where she had been moments before, his eyes wandering over the tragic photographs.

'I don't know,' he said in reply to her question. 'I don't know.'

xxx

Her fingers absently traced the surface of the mahogany desk in the chairman's office as her ice blue eyes followed the movement of her hand.

Both Raines and Lyle were currently classified as on leave until further notice which, ultimately, left her in charge for the duration of their absense.

As she stood in the middle of the office that she had always been told would one day be hers, she carefully kept her distance from the leather covered chair situated behind the desk that she had just tidied.

The chair that, in her eyes, was extremely symbolic.

It had been her birthright, that chair. It had been drilled in to her for as long as she could remember; one day, she was going to take over from Daddy and she was going to make him proud. She'd run the Centre and carry on the Parker chain. Then the whole mess with Lyle had unravelled, and just like that, out of the blue, Mr Parker had a son. And just like that, there was the new heir to family business.

Lyle's acceptance of his place as next in line didn't bother her in the least. Over the years she'd learnt quite enough about the Centre to put anyone off their dinner. The chair that she had once viewed as somewhat of a throne now acted as the much-hated and even, to a degree, feared, epicentre of her pitiful life, and she'd subconsciously placed a taboo on it. She refused to sit in the thing because of an unexplainable sense of foreboding that radiated from it. It was almost as if she were afraid that it was capable of holding some kind of spell over her if she chose to lower herself onto the squishy black cushioning.

'Parker,' she threw into her phone when it rang, her voice practically monotone.

The answer she got was hardly one she wanted to hear, and the absurdity of the caller's request irritated her further. She had no issues with communitcating the fact, and immediately snapped back with a testy,

'And why would I want to do that?'

There was a lengthy pause as she wearily listened to the explanation. Though it hardly clarified things to her satisfaction, she sighed in defeat.

'I'll be there. Just... don't do anything until I get there.' She disconnected the call, then hastily keyed in a number. 'Roy? This is Parker. Get the jet ready.'

Snapping her cell shut, she cast a final, fleeting glance at the chair before turning coolly on her heel and exiting the room.

xxx

'Miss Parker,' Broots hissed, scurrying across the lobby to catch up with the woman that was purposefully making her way towards the large glass doors that marked the entrance to the Centre. She turned around at the sound of his voice, lifting a delicate brow and waiting for the tech to join her.

'What is it, Broots, I'm in a hurry.'

'Where are you going?' he asked, frowning.

'To Atlanta,' she replied.

Glancing around, she took him by the arm and dragged him outside with her. She pulled out a cigarette.

'Lyle's insisting that I go.'

'And you don't know why?'

'Mm,' she responded, giving a small shake of her head as she cupped her hand over her lighter to shield the flame from the wind while she lit her cigarette. 'It has something to do with Jarod. That's all I've been told, other than, get down here. Now.'

'Do you think he's caught him?' Broots asked.

She made a noise of amusement, parting her lips slightly to allow smoke to escape. Something wasn't entirely right about Lyle's request, and she planned to find out what.

'No. He wouldn't be involving me if he had. I'd like to bet this is all about his latest screw up.'

'Uh-oh. What's he done now?'

'Rumour has it that a sweeper team had a run-in with the feds,' she explained. 'Lyle was convinced that Jarod was there. Evidently, his calculations were misguided and he only ended up causing trouble. But since Raines has gone walkabout, I'm left to go and clean up his mess.'

'Speaking of him, that's what I came here to tell you. Raines is in Argentina!'

'Argentina?' she repeated, looking skeptical. 'Please tell me he isn't there to work on his tan.'

'Well, I narrowed his location down to a plant outside Parana. Owned by... guess who.'

'The Centre,' she supplied. 'Surpise, surprise. Listen, Broots, I need you to do something for me.'

'Of course, Miss Parker. Anything.'

'I don't know how long I'll be in Georgia. The old wheezebag isn't around so it shouldn't be too much of a problem but I need you to cover for me. Don't tell anyone where I am - not even Sydney. Lyle told me not to tell anybody, and for once in his sorry life I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt.'

'Then... then why are you telling me?' Broots asked, wrinkling his brow in confusion and lowering his voice to a loud whisper.

'Because bald, coffee drinking computer technicians with a knack for buying awful shirts don't count as anybody,' she replied wryly. 'When I get back, I want everything you can dig up on Anderson. Lyle and Raines are otherwise occupied and it's time to go treasure hunting.'

'Uh, Miss Parker...' the tech began, throwing a glance over his shoulder. 'With Mr Lyle and Mr Raines gone, wouldn't that put you in charge? I mean, don't you think it's a little bit suspicious that the minute the authority goes over to you, Lyle's trying to get you away from the Centre?'

'Then good on him,' she said darkly. 'The last thing I want is to become head honcho of this freak show.'

'But Miss Parker, that leaves Mr Anderson!' he hissed.

'And he's not going anywhere near that office because you're going to tell him that I'm working from home,' she informed him, extinguishing her cigarette with the point of her shoe. 'If he's got a problem with it, he can take it up with me when I get back. You can contact me on my cell phone.'

'When do you want me to call you? And why can't I tell anyone? Miss Parker, you know I hate it when you ask me to lie to Sid,' he complained.

'You can tell him I've gone to Georgia chasing a lead on Jarod,' she answered. 'He's already concerned that I'm delving into this and I don't want him worrying his pretty little head anymore than he has to. Besides, I want you to keep focused on finding out what's on Mr Hyde's agenda, and you'd be better off without Sydney hovering over your shoulder.'

'But -'

'No buts, Broots, just do it.'

She glanced around for a moment, then down at her watch. Pulling her sunglasses on, she began heading in the opposite direction.

'I have to go. Call me!' she shouted back to him, pointing for effect. 'And remember - not a word!'

The tech nodded dejectedly, and raised his hand in a half-hearted wave in glum defeat as he watched his boss cross the carpark in long, powerful strides.

'My lips are sealed,' he added, though no one was around to hear him.

But then again, that was usually the case.

xxx

Jarod frowned pensively, then took a few steps back from the board he was focusing on, as if the added distance would magically make everything clearer.

It didn't.

The board was a concise display - a neat display of information that was both professionally presented and easy to read. In the middle was a sheet of paper - Fiore? scribed in the centre - with numerous lengths of red string coming out from it. At the end of each piece of string, something was attached; photos, notes, reports on previous crime scenes and even the rose they had recently received. To the left was a large map, with each of the killer's targeted areas tagged and labelled in vibrant red marker. 

Christina had constructed an excellent chart, but although Jarod admitted it was wonderfully well organised, it wasn't really helping. He wasn't picking up on anything he hadn't already seen, and it was starting to agitate him.

'Anything yet?' she asked, seating herself down in a chair.

She had just returned from an expedition to find what would have had to have been her tenth round of coffee. Jarod had declined after two cups, but it was becoming increasingly evident that Christina was one of those people that spent their lives working around the clock on nothing but donuts and caffeine.

'Nothing. I'm not seeing any patterns, but I'm certain there is one. It's too... calculated. It can't just be some spontaneous act. The only problem we have now is figuring out what compels him to kill. Maybe if we find out why, it will help us find out where.'

'His obsession is maniacal. All the girls were strangled. Hands-on methods usually mean the motives are power-based; he kills to exert power over his victims. The fact that he goes for defenseless, innocent children may have something to do with this, or it could be more. The specific type of girls he targets could relate to an issue from his past. The letter 'a' is significant to him. Flowers are significant to him. The flowers are a big part of the game he plays for a reason. It has something to do with flowers...' She trailed off, her olive green eyes studying the red rose she had pinned up earlier. 'It could just be an element he's chosen to include, because he enjoys the symbolism, but... but I just have a feeling. Gut instinct.'

'And do you trust your instincts?'

'Yes,' she said resolutely, meeting his gaze. 'If only because I don't trust in much else. But that's my job. I wouldn't be here if I didn't know what I was doing.'

Nodding, he turned back to the board, and gestured to the map.

'Do these places mean anything to you?'

'No,' she said, shaking her head, her dark ponytail swinging slightly. 'In fact, I'd say that this is the part that confuses me the most.'

She got to her feet and crossed the room to stand beside him. With a sidewards glance, she pointed at the dot marked Ashland, Kentucky.

'The large distances between the tagets isn't uncommon. But the fact that it's so haphazard... it's almost as if it's too haphazard. As if the pattern is in the irregularity.'

'I get that too. That there is something behind it, but we just aren't seeing it,' he replied.

Running a hand over his brow, Jarod moved his attention to the original files Christina had dug up on the case. He thumbed through the pages, searching for a name. When he found it, he handed the paper to Christina.

'The agent that worked on this case. I want to talk to him,' he told her.

Her never got to hear her thoughts on the matter because, at that moment, the door swung open, and the same office clerk that had delivered the rose leaned inside.

'We just got off the phone with your base in New York,' he informed them, his expression grim. 'They'd been alerted that you'd taken over the case, and they thought you'd like to know... NYPD reported finding investigator Antonio Garcia, your predecessor, dead in his Albany residence two days ago.'

Christina look at him in disbelief, then over at Jarod.

'Somehow... I don't think you'll be talking to him,' she said slowly, still shocked.

A dark, troubled expression on his face, Jarod gave a heavy sigh.

'Apparently not.'

xxx

Parker observed the terraced entrance of the building that lay before her with minimal interest, still contemplating what on earth had possessed her to come to Georgia just because her psychotic twin had told her to. She was still staring up at it when her phone rang. Without tearing her gaze away, she snapped it open, lifted it to her ear, then clicked it shut again after supplying the unidentified caller with a, not now - I'm busy.

Her hands subconsciously wandering to her holster sitting at the small of her back, she slowly made her way up the large white steps.

'Lyle?' she called, drawing her gun and edging inside. 'Lyle, it's Parker.'

Hearing voices down the entranceway, she followed the passage out into what seemed to be a makeshift office, where her brother was arguing with a sweeper. There were several others present in the room.

Lyle turned his head to glance sideways at her, but continued his conversation for a good minute longer before joining her.

'Good. You're here.'

'Yeah, I'm here. Do you want to tell me what the hell this is all about?' she asked, eyes narrowing as she gestured around. 'Starting with why you've formed your own little secret service in an empty house in downtown Atlanta.'

'Raines's orders,' he said dismissively, rolling his eyes. 'We're tracking project Parallax.'

'Raines is in Argentina,' she said dangerously.

'I know. And before you ask, no, I don't know why. Just that he's gone to Parana on Triumvirate business.'

'I don't see how this has anything to do with me.'

'It doesn't. I've called you here because I want to make a proposition. You've probably heard about my... minor misjudgment.'

She flashed her feral grin in his direction.

'Oh, I heard about it. And what did the FBI have to say about your little troup of funeral-goers?'

'We managed to clear it up. Fed them some cock and bull story about a Men In Black fanclub conference. They lapped it up,' he said with a wave of his hand. 'The point is, I can't take this lot out anywhere without causing a disturbance.'

'I've been trying to tell you that for years,' she replied, an eyebrow arched in amusement. 'Despite what Raines thinks, most people aren't colourblind. They will notice a group of similarly dressed ogres decked out in black.'

'As I'm sure you already know, I have a general dislike for... computers,' Lyle continued, adjusting his tie. 'Based on what little information we have, tracking this girl is more difficult than trying to find Jarod. We don't know anything about her. What I do know is, I'm not the only one that's been trying to hunt her down.'

'And?'

'And I'm suggesting a temporary truce. The sooner we get her out of the way, the sooner we can zone in on the lab rat.'

Parker huffed in disbelief at him.

'This isn't about her at all. It's about Jarod. You're worried someone else is going to snap up your prize,' she said, catching on.

'Listen, you know as well as I do that the Triumvirate's getting twitchy. Raines is holding this over our heads already, and it won't look good if another runaway science experiment is the one to bring him back. I'm well awate that this has become somewhat of a competition of late, but I'm willing to... set aside our differences and work together on this one.'

'You've lost it,' she informed him.

'Is that a no?' he sighed.

'Is that a no? Dammit, Lyle, it's a why-the-hell-did-you-drag-me-down-here-just-to-ask-me-that! Why couldn't you have just told me all this on the phone?'

'Because I knew you'd do this,' he answered. 'And because you're on to something with her and it's got something to do with Jarod.'

'The only connection that she and Jarod have that I know of is the fact that one's after the other,' she snapped.

'Just visualize it, Parker -' 

'Oh, I'm already visualizing the bullet hole that's going to be appearing between your eyes in a minute, you moron. Broots was right. You just wanted me away from the Centre to waste my time so that nobody catches Jarod while you're stuck here.'

'Where are you going?' he demanded as she pushed her way through the sweepers towards the door.

'Back to Blue Cove. This was a waste of time.'

'Parker, wait!' he called, taking a few steps forward. 'What if there was something else?'

'What do you mean?' she asked icily, stopping, and turning her head only slightly to listen.

He paused, then flexed his jaw.

'We know where she is.'

Xxxxxxxxx

Apologies, apologies, apologies for the horrendous lateness of this chapter! I've just gotten through my mid-terms, along with a horrible bout of writer's block :(

Anyway, I'm going to cut this note short so I can sooner post the chapter – and I'm on another comp, so I'm without access to my reviews… in which case I'll leave the thank yous until next time (Which will be much sooner than this awful long time I've just taken).

Collectively, thank you for the reviews, they make me happy :)

SezZie