Disclaimer in part 1
Guilty
Part 3
by imagine
Sitting at the edge of the mattress, Miss Parker kept her arms folded loosely across her chest, watching the man long after he fell into a deep, drug induced sleep. The sedative worked quickly and the peaceful rhythm that it brought to his breath was so hypnotic in the darkening room that she found herself almost as relaxed as Jarod.
She studied the lines around his eyes, and the shadows on his cheek and jaw, reminding herself that she was staring at the worn face of an injured man well into his forties; but, even as she did so, a picture of the boy he had once been formed in her mind. Strong, intelligent and inquisitive beyond belief, he managed to keep his insecurities to himself for years before she stumbled upon his secret.
She remembered standing in the shadows outside one of the sim rooms while he worked, waiting patiently for the right moment to interrupt when he suddenly became quiet. Curious, she peered into the room and watched as he raised his eyes from the books open in front of him to where Sydney stood at the end of the table. She heard his voice, soft and sad, asking why his parents did not visit and what he had done to make them send him away.
"Don't they love me, Sydney?"
She saw his wide eyes follow his mentor's movements across the room, silently pleading for an answer, explanation or reassurance; and, she felt his confusion when the psychiatrist told him to concentrate on his assignment.
Miss Parker sighed. She had been warned, repeatedly, that there were limits as to what she could tell Jarod; he was, after all, meant to be kept sheltered from outside influences. But, at that moment, she made the decision that he was entitled to more. She couldn't tell him the things he was desperate to know, because she wasn't privy to the information herself; but, she became the person who introduced the Pretender to Cracker Jack and practical jokes, explained the gravity of a double-dog-dare and made him understand the significance of a cross-your-heart-promise.
In return, Jarod crawled through vents, balanced on cat-walks and accompanied her on the exploration of every dark corner of the Centre they could gain access to, simply because she had asked. He never denied her anything that was in his power to provide, and she never demanded he do anything she wasn't willing to do herself. As children, they were inseparable and loyal to each other, first, last and always.
Now, after almost seven years of chasing him across the country, interviewing the people he befriended, and falling victim to his infantile and, sometimes, cruel pranks, she had developed an ulcer. Her nights were filled, too many times, with tumblers of scotch, a few cherished but bitter memories and late night telephone calls designed to taunt and make her question everything she had ever believed.
There was a piece of her soul that, guiltily, wanted him under lock and key, unable to affect her life any more than he already had. Her senses, however, were warped by memories of him as a child, and the warm fondness and protectiveness she was confident they had felt for one another in another life. Admittedly, things had changed so much between them, there were times when she wasn't sure her memories were real; but, real or not, they were the only reason she didn't take full advantage of his condition and drag Jarod back to Delaware.
She had no idea how long she stared at him, contemplating their history, but, when she finally turned away, the room had filled with heavy shadows.
"Where the hell are you, Syd?" she hissed, glancing at her watch, "I can't hang around here forever."
Wiping her eyes, she slid from the bed and crossed to the small closet. Jarod's jeans and shirts hung awkwardly from metal hangars in the center of the metal bar but her attention was on the bright yellow thermal jacket that hung from a hook on the back wall. Taking it in her hands, she held it out at arms length and shook her head. As Emma had promised, the garment was obviously too small to belong to Jarod and, Miss Parker decided, probably hadn't even covered his chest.
Shooting a quick look at the Pretender, she lowered herself to a nearby chair and drew the jacket on to her lap, slipping her hand into the folds of its fabric. The two outer pockets held nothing but a dollar twenty three in change, a pair of black women's knit gloves and a torn Hershey's candy wrapper. The inside breast pocket, however, contained a silver horseshoe style key chain and, as she turned it over in her hand, Miss Parker carefully fingered the three keys that dangled from the middle.
"Miss Parker?"
Sliding the keys into her pants pocket, she turned toward the voice as Emma stepped into the room. "What is it?"
"Well," she glanced nervously over her shoulder and closed the door, her eyes darting between Jarod and the brunette, "there's someone here, asking about Jarod. I thought you should . ."
Before the nurse could finish the sentence, Miss Parker was on her feet. Leaving the jacket draped over the seat of her chair, she moved quickly toward the door and stepped in front of the woman. With her hands gripping both the door and its frame, she peered into the hall, and released a heavy sigh.
"It's about time you showed up," she snapped, moving into the hall, "You were supposed to be here hours ago."
"The flights were delayed due to the storms, Miss Parker," he answered calmly, pivoting from the desk, "I got here as quickly as I could. Is this Jarod's room?"
Without waiting for a response, Sydney moved past the two women and crossed to where Jarod was sleeping. "Nurse, bring me this man's chart immediately."
"Excuse me?" Emma glanced between the man and Miss Parker, "Who the hell . .?"
"Emma, this is Sydney," she said, noticing the confusion on the nurse's face, "He's a friend of Jarod's, as well as his ...."
"Doctor," the man finished curtly, "My name is Dr. Sydney Higgins. I'm on staff at the University of Chicago, if you want to verify my credentials; but, in the meantime, I must insist you bring me his chart."
Miss Parker nodded slightly, confirming the half lie for Emma, and waited for the nurse to leave before approaching the bed.
"Higgins? The University of Chicago? Where did that come from?" she asked, as the man waved the beam of a small flashlight in Jarod's unseeing eyes.
"Jarod isn't the only one capable of creating a new identity, Miss Parker."
The door opened, announcing Emma's presence and immediately stalling the conversation. Sensing the tension, she held the file tightly against her chest and glanced between Jarod's visitors. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything is status quo," Miss Parker replied, shooting the nurse a quick smile then training her gaze evenly on the psychiatrist as he was handed Jarod's chart. "You'll have to forgive the doctor, Emma. Syd's just not quite himself today. He's usually much more congenial."
With a nervous bob of her head, the younger woman disappeared into the hall.
"Now, there's a first," she snapped, moving away from the bed, "Someone is actually intimidated by you."
When Sydney did not respond, Miss Parker absently crossed to where the jacket was still laying on the chair and returned it to the closet. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the older man peruse Jarod's chart, analyzing and filing the information in a section of his mind reserved for such data. When he sighed and placed the file in its place at the end of the bed, Miss Parker finally faced him.
"Satisfied?"
"Judging by the sedative he was given, Jarod will not wake up for a few more hours," he said, slipping out of his heavy coat.
Miss Parker nodded. "Just make sure you're with him when he does."
"I will," he promised, "but I need to know why he was given such a high dosage. The notes indicate he became overly excited, but not what brought it on. I need to talk to the doctor on duty and . ."
Grabbing the man by the arm, she pulled him away from the door and, in a calm voice, explained, "Jarod thinks the Centre is responsible for his accident. He says his mother was in the car with him, and that they took her."
Sydney straightened his stance and stared at the woman. "Is that possible?"
"I honestly don't know, but, I promised him that I'd find her, one way or another," she answered, slipping into her own jacket. "I'm going to search the area they found him. With any luck, I'll know something soon but I don't know if it will be good news or not. That's why it's important you stay with him," she said, "He's going to need you, Syd, if I can't . . . if she's . . ." she sighed and shook her head, "Just take care of him."
Before the psychiatrist could respond, Miss Parker had disappeared into the hall. Shaking his head sadly, he moved to the head of the bed and gently wiped the sweat from Jarod's brow. The Pretender shifted on the bed and murmured something incoherent in response.
The small clock on the bed told him it was almost seven in the evening but, the cloud cover made it seem much later. Though the storm had subsided to a light shower, the weather report warned that the rain would soon deteriorate into a heavy snowfall and the slick roads would soon become sheathed in ice. He thought of Parker and hoped she returned before the warnings became reality.
*********
Memories she had safely tucked away surfaced in powerful waves, flooding her with echoes of conversations, mistakes, prayers and dreams that had alternately comforted and threatened her for four decades. Though they didn't always come to her in chronological order, she relived everything from the Jarod's first day of school to the panic-ridden moment she'd realized he was missing to the confusing, yet joyous, moment when he stepped through her front door. His smiling face melted into Kyle's, both as the child she'd watched recite bedtime prayers, and as the man she'd only seen photos of, which was followed quickly by the desperation she'd felt when he was taken and the grief that enveloped her when she found his grave.
Her emotions ran the gamut between self condemnation to consolation to renewed confidence, and then back again, while her body suffered the after affects of the accident. The pain in her shoulders and ribs, the throbbing of her head and the chills that were symptomatic of her fever all added to Margaret's discomfort. For almost six hours, she alternated swallowing liberal doses of the aspirin and ibuprofen that had been provided by the motel manager, determined to resist the temptation to allow the pain to overtake her. She needed to keep moving.
Slowly drawing herself out of the chair beside the window, she wiped her face with both hands and took a deep breath as she crossed to the bathroom. Determined to drown the feelings of inadequacy that were surging inside of her, she splashed cold water on her face and then retreated back into the larger room without glancing at her reflection. Years ago she had promised to do whatever was necessary to protect her family and, though she had been younger and stronger when the vow was made, she was no less determined to see it through.
She dressed quickly, ignoring the dampness of her sweater and shoes, while her mind considered her next move. By now, all her belongings, still trapped in the trunk of the car, were floating in the same ice cold water that had tried to kill her and her son. Her clothes, reference materials and laptop were no doubt destroyed and, when they were finally recovered, she was sure the local authorities would present them to Jarod, despite their uselessness.
There were two objects, however, that she had taken steps to protect. Hidden inside the heavy, metal box that had provided sanctuary for years, were the scrolls and her Bible. It was important that she be the one to pull them from the wreckage. Jarod's future and her sanity depended on it.
*********
The spot Jarod had been found had nothing to offer. After almost an hour of exploring the area, Miss Parker started back up the incline, purposely making her own path rather than following the one of trampled and slick grass that had been made by the emergency crews. On her way out of the hospital, Emma had informed her that the crews would be back to haul the car and its contents from the river. Miss Parker had no intention of being found, in the middle of her own investigation, when they appeared. If there was one thing that had been drilled into her head from the beginning, it was that the local authorities and Centre personnel should never cross paths. Thomas' death was proof of that fact.
Half way up the hill, though, she turned and crouched under the bridge, staring down at the accident site through eyes that were heavy with fatigue, frustration and disappointment. She told herself that, if there had been some indication of Margaret's fate, it was lost among the muddy footprints of the paramedics or washed away by the rising river and rain but a little voice inside her head told her to keep looking. Damn.
She stayed there, holding her hair away from her face with one hand and directing the beam of her flashlight across the churning water with the other. Lightening flashed, though not as brightly as it had earlier, and thunder rumbled as light rain echoed off the bridge above her, but she barely noticed. Her gaze was alternating between the creased bumper that protruded periodically through the rocks and high waves that surrounded it, and the spot where Jarod had been found.
In her minds eye, she saw the terror on Jarod's face as the car plummeted over the edge and instinctively turned away from the sight. She heard his mother scream and fell backwards as she her own body reacted to the imagined sensation of the car connecting with the turbulent water. Laying in the mud, Miss Parker pulled herself into a semi-fetal position and buried her head in her hands, rocking back and forth for a few moments before slowly sitting up. Though it had been involuntary, and she had no idea how or why it happened, Miss Parker had seen Jarod suffer through enough of them, as a child, to understand that what she just experienced had been a simulation.
"So, what happened next?" she murmured, letting her eyes rest on the car, "How do I find out what happened next?"
With a shake of her head, she rose to her feet and was only a few yards from the mouth of the path when she stopped and looked back. On an impulse, she scooted back to the shore and moved away from the site the paramedics had trampled. Her flashlight skimmed the rocks along the bank while she glanced critically over her shoulder at the bridge and at the river.
Judging her distance from the wreckage and, in turn, its distance from where Jarod had been found, she continued further from them both. Finally, after traveling about 400 yards, something beside a large rock glistened in the beam of her light. As she crouched over the spot, a bolt of lightening seared the now rainless sky and the object glimmered again. Using her fingers, Miss Parker dug the item out of the mud and, turning it over in her hand, wiped the edges with her thumb before pocketing the ring and starting up the slight incline.
*********
"Sydney?"
The voice was weak, and unsure, but the psychiatrist reacted as if it had boomed through a megaphone. In an instant, he was at Jarod's side, smiling down at the confused man.
"What . .? Why are you here?"
"Miss Parker called me," he replied, lowering himself to the mattress. "Now, relax. The sedative . ."
"You shouldn't be here. She shouldn't have called." Jarod turned his head away and tried to pull himself to a sitting position. His hand slipped on the sheets, and the muscles in his arms buckled, causing him to fall unwillingly, back to the pillow. "They'll find out."
"Jarod, relax, no one knows I'm here," Sydney promised, his tone becoming more solicitous as he watched the younger man flail in the bed linens that twisted around his body. "Now, take a deep breath and tell me what's wrong. Does something hurt? How do you feel?"
"How do I feel?" he growled. His mood shifted abruptly from one of helpless confusion to one of anger and accusation, "How do you think I feel? They pushed my car off a bridge, Sydney. I finally found my mother, I convinced her she was safe with me and they pushed me off a bridge so they could take her away."
"I've gone through your chart," he said, purposely ignoring Jarod's words in favor of doling out advice on his physical condition, "I know you're in pain, but, with some medication and a bit of rest . ."
"Medication? Rest? Aren't you listening to me?" Jarod interrupted, his eyes widening at the suggestion, "Don't you understand? It's all my fault."
*********
TBC
Guilty
Part 3
by imagine
Sitting at the edge of the mattress, Miss Parker kept her arms folded loosely across her chest, watching the man long after he fell into a deep, drug induced sleep. The sedative worked quickly and the peaceful rhythm that it brought to his breath was so hypnotic in the darkening room that she found herself almost as relaxed as Jarod.
She studied the lines around his eyes, and the shadows on his cheek and jaw, reminding herself that she was staring at the worn face of an injured man well into his forties; but, even as she did so, a picture of the boy he had once been formed in her mind. Strong, intelligent and inquisitive beyond belief, he managed to keep his insecurities to himself for years before she stumbled upon his secret.
She remembered standing in the shadows outside one of the sim rooms while he worked, waiting patiently for the right moment to interrupt when he suddenly became quiet. Curious, she peered into the room and watched as he raised his eyes from the books open in front of him to where Sydney stood at the end of the table. She heard his voice, soft and sad, asking why his parents did not visit and what he had done to make them send him away.
"Don't they love me, Sydney?"
She saw his wide eyes follow his mentor's movements across the room, silently pleading for an answer, explanation or reassurance; and, she felt his confusion when the psychiatrist told him to concentrate on his assignment.
Miss Parker sighed. She had been warned, repeatedly, that there were limits as to what she could tell Jarod; he was, after all, meant to be kept sheltered from outside influences. But, at that moment, she made the decision that he was entitled to more. She couldn't tell him the things he was desperate to know, because she wasn't privy to the information herself; but, she became the person who introduced the Pretender to Cracker Jack and practical jokes, explained the gravity of a double-dog-dare and made him understand the significance of a cross-your-heart-promise.
In return, Jarod crawled through vents, balanced on cat-walks and accompanied her on the exploration of every dark corner of the Centre they could gain access to, simply because she had asked. He never denied her anything that was in his power to provide, and she never demanded he do anything she wasn't willing to do herself. As children, they were inseparable and loyal to each other, first, last and always.
Now, after almost seven years of chasing him across the country, interviewing the people he befriended, and falling victim to his infantile and, sometimes, cruel pranks, she had developed an ulcer. Her nights were filled, too many times, with tumblers of scotch, a few cherished but bitter memories and late night telephone calls designed to taunt and make her question everything she had ever believed.
There was a piece of her soul that, guiltily, wanted him under lock and key, unable to affect her life any more than he already had. Her senses, however, were warped by memories of him as a child, and the warm fondness and protectiveness she was confident they had felt for one another in another life. Admittedly, things had changed so much between them, there were times when she wasn't sure her memories were real; but, real or not, they were the only reason she didn't take full advantage of his condition and drag Jarod back to Delaware.
She had no idea how long she stared at him, contemplating their history, but, when she finally turned away, the room had filled with heavy shadows.
"Where the hell are you, Syd?" she hissed, glancing at her watch, "I can't hang around here forever."
Wiping her eyes, she slid from the bed and crossed to the small closet. Jarod's jeans and shirts hung awkwardly from metal hangars in the center of the metal bar but her attention was on the bright yellow thermal jacket that hung from a hook on the back wall. Taking it in her hands, she held it out at arms length and shook her head. As Emma had promised, the garment was obviously too small to belong to Jarod and, Miss Parker decided, probably hadn't even covered his chest.
Shooting a quick look at the Pretender, she lowered herself to a nearby chair and drew the jacket on to her lap, slipping her hand into the folds of its fabric. The two outer pockets held nothing but a dollar twenty three in change, a pair of black women's knit gloves and a torn Hershey's candy wrapper. The inside breast pocket, however, contained a silver horseshoe style key chain and, as she turned it over in her hand, Miss Parker carefully fingered the three keys that dangled from the middle.
"Miss Parker?"
Sliding the keys into her pants pocket, she turned toward the voice as Emma stepped into the room. "What is it?"
"Well," she glanced nervously over her shoulder and closed the door, her eyes darting between Jarod and the brunette, "there's someone here, asking about Jarod. I thought you should . ."
Before the nurse could finish the sentence, Miss Parker was on her feet. Leaving the jacket draped over the seat of her chair, she moved quickly toward the door and stepped in front of the woman. With her hands gripping both the door and its frame, she peered into the hall, and released a heavy sigh.
"It's about time you showed up," she snapped, moving into the hall, "You were supposed to be here hours ago."
"The flights were delayed due to the storms, Miss Parker," he answered calmly, pivoting from the desk, "I got here as quickly as I could. Is this Jarod's room?"
Without waiting for a response, Sydney moved past the two women and crossed to where Jarod was sleeping. "Nurse, bring me this man's chart immediately."
"Excuse me?" Emma glanced between the man and Miss Parker, "Who the hell . .?"
"Emma, this is Sydney," she said, noticing the confusion on the nurse's face, "He's a friend of Jarod's, as well as his ...."
"Doctor," the man finished curtly, "My name is Dr. Sydney Higgins. I'm on staff at the University of Chicago, if you want to verify my credentials; but, in the meantime, I must insist you bring me his chart."
Miss Parker nodded slightly, confirming the half lie for Emma, and waited for the nurse to leave before approaching the bed.
"Higgins? The University of Chicago? Where did that come from?" she asked, as the man waved the beam of a small flashlight in Jarod's unseeing eyes.
"Jarod isn't the only one capable of creating a new identity, Miss Parker."
The door opened, announcing Emma's presence and immediately stalling the conversation. Sensing the tension, she held the file tightly against her chest and glanced between Jarod's visitors. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything is status quo," Miss Parker replied, shooting the nurse a quick smile then training her gaze evenly on the psychiatrist as he was handed Jarod's chart. "You'll have to forgive the doctor, Emma. Syd's just not quite himself today. He's usually much more congenial."
With a nervous bob of her head, the younger woman disappeared into the hall.
"Now, there's a first," she snapped, moving away from the bed, "Someone is actually intimidated by you."
When Sydney did not respond, Miss Parker absently crossed to where the jacket was still laying on the chair and returned it to the closet. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the older man peruse Jarod's chart, analyzing and filing the information in a section of his mind reserved for such data. When he sighed and placed the file in its place at the end of the bed, Miss Parker finally faced him.
"Satisfied?"
"Judging by the sedative he was given, Jarod will not wake up for a few more hours," he said, slipping out of his heavy coat.
Miss Parker nodded. "Just make sure you're with him when he does."
"I will," he promised, "but I need to know why he was given such a high dosage. The notes indicate he became overly excited, but not what brought it on. I need to talk to the doctor on duty and . ."
Grabbing the man by the arm, she pulled him away from the door and, in a calm voice, explained, "Jarod thinks the Centre is responsible for his accident. He says his mother was in the car with him, and that they took her."
Sydney straightened his stance and stared at the woman. "Is that possible?"
"I honestly don't know, but, I promised him that I'd find her, one way or another," she answered, slipping into her own jacket. "I'm going to search the area they found him. With any luck, I'll know something soon but I don't know if it will be good news or not. That's why it's important you stay with him," she said, "He's going to need you, Syd, if I can't . . . if she's . . ." she sighed and shook her head, "Just take care of him."
Before the psychiatrist could respond, Miss Parker had disappeared into the hall. Shaking his head sadly, he moved to the head of the bed and gently wiped the sweat from Jarod's brow. The Pretender shifted on the bed and murmured something incoherent in response.
The small clock on the bed told him it was almost seven in the evening but, the cloud cover made it seem much later. Though the storm had subsided to a light shower, the weather report warned that the rain would soon deteriorate into a heavy snowfall and the slick roads would soon become sheathed in ice. He thought of Parker and hoped she returned before the warnings became reality.
*********
Memories she had safely tucked away surfaced in powerful waves, flooding her with echoes of conversations, mistakes, prayers and dreams that had alternately comforted and threatened her for four decades. Though they didn't always come to her in chronological order, she relived everything from the Jarod's first day of school to the panic-ridden moment she'd realized he was missing to the confusing, yet joyous, moment when he stepped through her front door. His smiling face melted into Kyle's, both as the child she'd watched recite bedtime prayers, and as the man she'd only seen photos of, which was followed quickly by the desperation she'd felt when he was taken and the grief that enveloped her when she found his grave.
Her emotions ran the gamut between self condemnation to consolation to renewed confidence, and then back again, while her body suffered the after affects of the accident. The pain in her shoulders and ribs, the throbbing of her head and the chills that were symptomatic of her fever all added to Margaret's discomfort. For almost six hours, she alternated swallowing liberal doses of the aspirin and ibuprofen that had been provided by the motel manager, determined to resist the temptation to allow the pain to overtake her. She needed to keep moving.
Slowly drawing herself out of the chair beside the window, she wiped her face with both hands and took a deep breath as she crossed to the bathroom. Determined to drown the feelings of inadequacy that were surging inside of her, she splashed cold water on her face and then retreated back into the larger room without glancing at her reflection. Years ago she had promised to do whatever was necessary to protect her family and, though she had been younger and stronger when the vow was made, she was no less determined to see it through.
She dressed quickly, ignoring the dampness of her sweater and shoes, while her mind considered her next move. By now, all her belongings, still trapped in the trunk of the car, were floating in the same ice cold water that had tried to kill her and her son. Her clothes, reference materials and laptop were no doubt destroyed and, when they were finally recovered, she was sure the local authorities would present them to Jarod, despite their uselessness.
There were two objects, however, that she had taken steps to protect. Hidden inside the heavy, metal box that had provided sanctuary for years, were the scrolls and her Bible. It was important that she be the one to pull them from the wreckage. Jarod's future and her sanity depended on it.
*********
The spot Jarod had been found had nothing to offer. After almost an hour of exploring the area, Miss Parker started back up the incline, purposely making her own path rather than following the one of trampled and slick grass that had been made by the emergency crews. On her way out of the hospital, Emma had informed her that the crews would be back to haul the car and its contents from the river. Miss Parker had no intention of being found, in the middle of her own investigation, when they appeared. If there was one thing that had been drilled into her head from the beginning, it was that the local authorities and Centre personnel should never cross paths. Thomas' death was proof of that fact.
Half way up the hill, though, she turned and crouched under the bridge, staring down at the accident site through eyes that were heavy with fatigue, frustration and disappointment. She told herself that, if there had been some indication of Margaret's fate, it was lost among the muddy footprints of the paramedics or washed away by the rising river and rain but a little voice inside her head told her to keep looking. Damn.
She stayed there, holding her hair away from her face with one hand and directing the beam of her flashlight across the churning water with the other. Lightening flashed, though not as brightly as it had earlier, and thunder rumbled as light rain echoed off the bridge above her, but she barely noticed. Her gaze was alternating between the creased bumper that protruded periodically through the rocks and high waves that surrounded it, and the spot where Jarod had been found.
In her minds eye, she saw the terror on Jarod's face as the car plummeted over the edge and instinctively turned away from the sight. She heard his mother scream and fell backwards as she her own body reacted to the imagined sensation of the car connecting with the turbulent water. Laying in the mud, Miss Parker pulled herself into a semi-fetal position and buried her head in her hands, rocking back and forth for a few moments before slowly sitting up. Though it had been involuntary, and she had no idea how or why it happened, Miss Parker had seen Jarod suffer through enough of them, as a child, to understand that what she just experienced had been a simulation.
"So, what happened next?" she murmured, letting her eyes rest on the car, "How do I find out what happened next?"
With a shake of her head, she rose to her feet and was only a few yards from the mouth of the path when she stopped and looked back. On an impulse, she scooted back to the shore and moved away from the site the paramedics had trampled. Her flashlight skimmed the rocks along the bank while she glanced critically over her shoulder at the bridge and at the river.
Judging her distance from the wreckage and, in turn, its distance from where Jarod had been found, she continued further from them both. Finally, after traveling about 400 yards, something beside a large rock glistened in the beam of her light. As she crouched over the spot, a bolt of lightening seared the now rainless sky and the object glimmered again. Using her fingers, Miss Parker dug the item out of the mud and, turning it over in her hand, wiped the edges with her thumb before pocketing the ring and starting up the slight incline.
*********
"Sydney?"
The voice was weak, and unsure, but the psychiatrist reacted as if it had boomed through a megaphone. In an instant, he was at Jarod's side, smiling down at the confused man.
"What . .? Why are you here?"
"Miss Parker called me," he replied, lowering himself to the mattress. "Now, relax. The sedative . ."
"You shouldn't be here. She shouldn't have called." Jarod turned his head away and tried to pull himself to a sitting position. His hand slipped on the sheets, and the muscles in his arms buckled, causing him to fall unwillingly, back to the pillow. "They'll find out."
"Jarod, relax, no one knows I'm here," Sydney promised, his tone becoming more solicitous as he watched the younger man flail in the bed linens that twisted around his body. "Now, take a deep breath and tell me what's wrong. Does something hurt? How do you feel?"
"How do I feel?" he growled. His mood shifted abruptly from one of helpless confusion to one of anger and accusation, "How do you think I feel? They pushed my car off a bridge, Sydney. I finally found my mother, I convinced her she was safe with me and they pushed me off a bridge so they could take her away."
"I've gone through your chart," he said, purposely ignoring Jarod's words in favor of doling out advice on his physical condition, "I know you're in pain, but, with some medication and a bit of rest . ."
"Medication? Rest? Aren't you listening to me?" Jarod interrupted, his eyes widening at the suggestion, "Don't you understand? It's all my fault."
*********
TBC