Disclaimer in part 1
Guilty
part 4
by imagine
The path was thick and the mud soaked through her boots, weighing her down and threatening to keep her suctioned to one place; but, Miss Parker managed to pull herself up the small hill. Though she heard nothing but the wind and the rustling of the trees around her, Miss Parker felt another presence. The beam of her flashlight illuminated the markings in the ground around her: footsteps, indentations that indicated a fall, a fresh handprint on a rock. Someone was ahead of her.
After twenty minutes, she was rewarded with the glow of a street lamp. Emerging from the muddy terrain, she spotted a figure stumbling across the icy road toward the neon light that flashed the name of a motel. Miss Parker quickened her pace, knowing instinctively that she needed to catch up with the woman, before she disappeared into one of the rooms.
The temperature had dropped considerably since she left the hospital and, though Miss Parker wasn't sure when it happened, the rain had turned to snow. A thin layer of white powder laced the blacktop, masking the patches of ice beneath and now the heavy, wet flakes that had formed were erasing the footsteps of both her and her prey. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or not, but the eerie silence that accompanied a snowfall was definitely a contributing factor to her anxiousness.
Miss Parker was half way across the parking lot when the sound of skidding tires sliced through the silence. Ducking behind a salt stained Ford Explorer, she watched in horror as the Town Car came to a halt at the edge of the motel driveway. Immediately, the woman she'd been following changed directions, trying desperately to put distance between her and the new arrivals.
Gripping the muzzle of her automatic tightly, Miss Parker struck the window of the truck. Splinters of glass showered the area but her attention was on the woman racing toward the back of the motel. Without hesitation, she slid across the seats of the cold vehicle, reached below the dashboard, and tugged at the wires tucked inside. In seconds, the motor was humming.
Straightening herself in the seat, she threw the car into gear and, raising the hood of her jacket, stepped on the gas. The tires skidded in the ice, then found traction on the blacktop and sped from its parking space. Logic told her to follow the woman and her pursuers into the alley behind the building; but, her instincts took over and Miss Parker found herself guiding the vehicle around the motel, heading for the alley from the opposite direction.
*********
Margaret raced through the alley, desperately trying to block out the sound of gunfire. Though the Town Car was approaching quickly, she concentrated on her footing and on the exit that lay ahead, praying that no one would come out to investigate the commotion. She had no idea where she was headed, or how she would elude capture this time; but, she knew she could not allow someone else to be injured because of her mistakes.
The mouth of the alley was only a few yards away, and, as she tried to force herself to decide which direction she would turn, a large truck blocked her path. Startled, she hesitated when the passenger door swung open and shots erupted. Despite the close range, the bullets missed her completely and a woman's voice yelled for her to get in the SUV. Confused and uncertain, she delayed her decision a second too long and, suddenly, Margaret felt herself being pulled backward.
"No!"
*********
The snow, wind and ice made the roads difficult and, the broken window made driving almost impossible. Even with the heater on its highest setting, after only thirty minutes, the front window was frosted on the inside and snow was beginning to accumulate on the passenger seat. Abandoning the Explorer less than a mile from where she left her own car, Miss Parker continued the search for Margaret and the Town Car for another hour before finally returning to the hospital.
"Miss Parker, what happened?" Sydney asked as he rose from the bench outside Jarod's room. "Are you all right?"
She nodded and motioned toward Jarod's room. "Is he awake?"
"Yes, but I don't think now is a good time to talk to him," he replied, "The police were just here." He sighed and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. "It seems they managed to retrieve some items from the car this evening."
"Why is that upsetting?"
"Jarod identified them as belonging to his mother," he told her. "I'm afraid the police weren't very optimistic about finding her alive. Based on Jarod's description, they believe she may be a Jane Doe that was pronounced dead of exposure late this afternoon."
"Idiots," she spat, moving past him into the room.
Though it was well past midnight, Jarod was sitting in a chair in front of the window, staring at the snowfall. On the floor, in front of him, was an open vinyl bag. Though she couldn't see what was inside, a woman's sweater and scarf were draped over the edge. A thick book was propped, tent-like, over the heat vents on the window sill, its pages still too waterlogged to flutter in response to the air flow. Jarod didn't turn when she entered, but his eyes shifted to her reflection in the glass as she approached, then back to the snow.
"You can save your sympathies," he said bitterly, "I know Sydney told you what the police said; but, my mother is not dead."
"I know."
She saw him twitch at the words, then, stiffly, turned in the chair. His eyes searched hers a moment, dropping long enough to inspect her wet clothes and haggard appearance before sliding back to her face. Before he could question her, she closed the gap between them and gently placed the ring she found at the accident site in front of the drying book.
"Where did you find this?" he asked, hesitantly reaching for the mud caked piece of jewelry.
"About 400 yards from where you were found. It was beside a trail that leads behind a motel about five miles from here."
Looking up, he tightened his fist around the ring but the smile that began to form on his face quickly faded when she avoided his gaze. "You found her, didn't you? She's all right."
Still donned in heavy, wet clothes, Miss Parker stepped back and slid the leather jacket from her shoulders. Laying it across the back of a chair, she wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath.
"Parker, tell me what happened."
*********
When she was finished, she was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at his back. Half way through her narration, he had turned away, preferring to hear the apology in her voice than see the remorse in her eyes. The ring was still tightly hidden in his fist and, though he felt the stones cutting into his skin, Jarod refused to loosen his grip.
"Are you all right?" he asked, after a long silence.
Surprised by the question, Miss Parker hesitated before answering with a low, "Yes."
He nodded then rocked forward and pushed himself from the chair. Though the muscles in his legs were weak, Jarod managed to bring himself within two steps of the bed before they buckled beneath him. He lunged forward, and was grabbing for the mattress when both her hands were suddenly wrapped around his arm.
Slowly, one hand slid across his chest and the other down his back, gripping his waist beneath the hospital gown. The sensation of her cool hand against his bare skin was unexpected and, as she tightened her grip and pulled him toward her, Jarod realized her touch wasn't as cold as it initially felt. In fact, the longer it pressed against his body, the more warmth radiated through him.
"Why are you here?" he asked when she helped him on to the mattress.
"Are you complaining?"
"Curious."
She held the blanket up until he slid his legs into place, then gently let it drape his body. Leaning forward, she pulled the sheet and blankets across his chest, tucking them under his arms and smoothing them over his abdomen while she straightened. When she started to turn away, Jarod lifted his hand on top of hers and squeezed it tenderly, bringing her vivid blue eyes back to him.
"Someone once told me that I shouldn't ignore a turning point when it's staring me in the face."
"And this is a turning point."
"At the very least, it's a bend in the road," she said, drawing her hand away.
Taking a deep breath, Jarod brought his hand back to his side, watching her intently as she moved to the window. She took the book into her hands and absently flipped through the ruined pages before replacing it over the heat register. When she finally faced him again, he shifted restlessly in the bed and dropped his eyes. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Were you close enough for my mother, or her kidnappers to recognize you?"
She cocked an eyebrow at him and folded her arms across her chest. "In case you dozed off while I was talking, they were obviously Sweepers. If they'd seen me, do you think I would be standing here, talking to you?"
Meeting her gaze with a shy smile, he nodded then reached for the phone. Picking up the handset, he held it out to her. "Good. Then they won't be suspicious when you call and tell them you've found me."
*********
Except for a soft moan of protest, she didn't move as she was carried effortlessly through the garage and into the house. Her clothes were wet, her body shivering beneath them and her face was covered with perspiration. When he laid her on the sofa in front of the fire, Margaret curled into a ball, bringing her head to her knees and whispered something none of them understood.
"How long has she been like this?"
"About forty minutes," the man answered. Removing his gloves, he rubbed his hands together and stepped closer to the heat of the fire. "But she wasn't exactly responsive before that, either."
"Has she said anything?"
Chuckling, the man turned away from the flames and shook his head. "Only that she wasn't going to tell us anything. She's as stubborn as her son."
"We'll see about that. Take her to the room at the top of the stairs," he spat, signaling the guard posted at the garage door. Then, motioning to the woman in the kitchen, he ordered, "Go with them. Get her out of those wet clothes and into something dry. I'll be up in a few minutes to examine and question her."
"Yes, Doctor."
Moving to the base of the steps, he watched his orders being carried out, then turned to the man still standing in front of the fire. "Did you find anything when you searched her room?"
"I was wondering when you would ask," the younger man replied. Shrugging out of his wet coat, he reached into the pocket. Retrieving a black billfold, he turned it over in his hand once, then smiled and tossed it to the older man before letting his coat fall over the arm of a chair. "This was all she had with her."
Running his fingers across the identification inside the wallet, the doctor breathed a sigh of satisfaction. "It's enough."
"For now," the man agreed, "but, it's not exactly what we're looking for, at the moment."
"Have you learned nothing? This proves they've had contact. If she told him about the scrolls, then he'll try to use them to get her back."
"And, if she hasn't?"
He smiled and held Jarod's driver's license to the light. "He's a smart boy. He'll figure it out for himself."
*********
"Will he help us?"
"Sydney will always help," she answered, letting the door close behind her. "You, of all people, should know that. He'll contact Broots and bring him up to speed. In the morning, he'll start looking for a safe house. Once he's found one, he'll call and we can get things rolling."
"I'd rather not wait," he admitted, glaring at her as she dropped into the chair beside him, "The sooner . ."
"Yeah, well, that's just too damn bad, isn't it? I'm not making that phone call until everything is in place," she said. Crossing her legs, Miss Parker leaned back and sighed, "So, you may as well get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."
Jarod let his head fall back to the pillows and took a deep breath. It had taken him over an hour to convince her that his plan would work; now, all he could do is hope he had considered every possible angle. As much as he would like to think otherwise, he and his mother were not the only people with something at stake.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Keeping her eyes closed, she answered, "I haven't done anything, yet. You can thank me, when we find your mother."
"I will," he smiled.
"Now, shut up and go to sleep."
He watched her find a more comfortable position in the chair, then turned his eyes back to the ceiling. Whether it was the photo of his mother and Catherine that was spurring her on, or something else, it was obvious that Parker was as anxious as he was. She had already gone out of her way to help them, so, whatever her reasons, Jarod had no intention of questioning her motives. Yet.
Besides, his thoughts kept slipping back to the brief time he'd spent with his mother. The feel of her arms around him, the sound of her voice, the blush that spread across her face when she talked about his father were all sensations he would take comfort in. However, snippets of their conversations came back to him without warning, soon followed by a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"I can keep you safe," he promised, "I can keep us both safe."
"If the Centre found out ..."
"They won't."
"Of course they will. They always find out and, when they do, they'll make life that much more dangerous for you and . . ."
Rolling his head to the side, he pulled the blankets to his shoulders and stared at the falling snow. He knew his mother would never, willingly, tell anyone from the Centre that they'd been together, but Jarod had no doubt that whoever was responsible for their accident and her disappearance didn't need her to tell them.
His mother had been right, the Centre always found out. This time, though, Jarod was going to use the information against them.
*********
TBC
Guilty
part 4
by imagine
The path was thick and the mud soaked through her boots, weighing her down and threatening to keep her suctioned to one place; but, Miss Parker managed to pull herself up the small hill. Though she heard nothing but the wind and the rustling of the trees around her, Miss Parker felt another presence. The beam of her flashlight illuminated the markings in the ground around her: footsteps, indentations that indicated a fall, a fresh handprint on a rock. Someone was ahead of her.
After twenty minutes, she was rewarded with the glow of a street lamp. Emerging from the muddy terrain, she spotted a figure stumbling across the icy road toward the neon light that flashed the name of a motel. Miss Parker quickened her pace, knowing instinctively that she needed to catch up with the woman, before she disappeared into one of the rooms.
The temperature had dropped considerably since she left the hospital and, though Miss Parker wasn't sure when it happened, the rain had turned to snow. A thin layer of white powder laced the blacktop, masking the patches of ice beneath and now the heavy, wet flakes that had formed were erasing the footsteps of both her and her prey. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or not, but the eerie silence that accompanied a snowfall was definitely a contributing factor to her anxiousness.
Miss Parker was half way across the parking lot when the sound of skidding tires sliced through the silence. Ducking behind a salt stained Ford Explorer, she watched in horror as the Town Car came to a halt at the edge of the motel driveway. Immediately, the woman she'd been following changed directions, trying desperately to put distance between her and the new arrivals.
Gripping the muzzle of her automatic tightly, Miss Parker struck the window of the truck. Splinters of glass showered the area but her attention was on the woman racing toward the back of the motel. Without hesitation, she slid across the seats of the cold vehicle, reached below the dashboard, and tugged at the wires tucked inside. In seconds, the motor was humming.
Straightening herself in the seat, she threw the car into gear and, raising the hood of her jacket, stepped on the gas. The tires skidded in the ice, then found traction on the blacktop and sped from its parking space. Logic told her to follow the woman and her pursuers into the alley behind the building; but, her instincts took over and Miss Parker found herself guiding the vehicle around the motel, heading for the alley from the opposite direction.
*********
Margaret raced through the alley, desperately trying to block out the sound of gunfire. Though the Town Car was approaching quickly, she concentrated on her footing and on the exit that lay ahead, praying that no one would come out to investigate the commotion. She had no idea where she was headed, or how she would elude capture this time; but, she knew she could not allow someone else to be injured because of her mistakes.
The mouth of the alley was only a few yards away, and, as she tried to force herself to decide which direction she would turn, a large truck blocked her path. Startled, she hesitated when the passenger door swung open and shots erupted. Despite the close range, the bullets missed her completely and a woman's voice yelled for her to get in the SUV. Confused and uncertain, she delayed her decision a second too long and, suddenly, Margaret felt herself being pulled backward.
"No!"
*********
The snow, wind and ice made the roads difficult and, the broken window made driving almost impossible. Even with the heater on its highest setting, after only thirty minutes, the front window was frosted on the inside and snow was beginning to accumulate on the passenger seat. Abandoning the Explorer less than a mile from where she left her own car, Miss Parker continued the search for Margaret and the Town Car for another hour before finally returning to the hospital.
"Miss Parker, what happened?" Sydney asked as he rose from the bench outside Jarod's room. "Are you all right?"
She nodded and motioned toward Jarod's room. "Is he awake?"
"Yes, but I don't think now is a good time to talk to him," he replied, "The police were just here." He sighed and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. "It seems they managed to retrieve some items from the car this evening."
"Why is that upsetting?"
"Jarod identified them as belonging to his mother," he told her. "I'm afraid the police weren't very optimistic about finding her alive. Based on Jarod's description, they believe she may be a Jane Doe that was pronounced dead of exposure late this afternoon."
"Idiots," she spat, moving past him into the room.
Though it was well past midnight, Jarod was sitting in a chair in front of the window, staring at the snowfall. On the floor, in front of him, was an open vinyl bag. Though she couldn't see what was inside, a woman's sweater and scarf were draped over the edge. A thick book was propped, tent-like, over the heat vents on the window sill, its pages still too waterlogged to flutter in response to the air flow. Jarod didn't turn when she entered, but his eyes shifted to her reflection in the glass as she approached, then back to the snow.
"You can save your sympathies," he said bitterly, "I know Sydney told you what the police said; but, my mother is not dead."
"I know."
She saw him twitch at the words, then, stiffly, turned in the chair. His eyes searched hers a moment, dropping long enough to inspect her wet clothes and haggard appearance before sliding back to her face. Before he could question her, she closed the gap between them and gently placed the ring she found at the accident site in front of the drying book.
"Where did you find this?" he asked, hesitantly reaching for the mud caked piece of jewelry.
"About 400 yards from where you were found. It was beside a trail that leads behind a motel about five miles from here."
Looking up, he tightened his fist around the ring but the smile that began to form on his face quickly faded when she avoided his gaze. "You found her, didn't you? She's all right."
Still donned in heavy, wet clothes, Miss Parker stepped back and slid the leather jacket from her shoulders. Laying it across the back of a chair, she wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath.
"Parker, tell me what happened."
*********
When she was finished, she was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at his back. Half way through her narration, he had turned away, preferring to hear the apology in her voice than see the remorse in her eyes. The ring was still tightly hidden in his fist and, though he felt the stones cutting into his skin, Jarod refused to loosen his grip.
"Are you all right?" he asked, after a long silence.
Surprised by the question, Miss Parker hesitated before answering with a low, "Yes."
He nodded then rocked forward and pushed himself from the chair. Though the muscles in his legs were weak, Jarod managed to bring himself within two steps of the bed before they buckled beneath him. He lunged forward, and was grabbing for the mattress when both her hands were suddenly wrapped around his arm.
Slowly, one hand slid across his chest and the other down his back, gripping his waist beneath the hospital gown. The sensation of her cool hand against his bare skin was unexpected and, as she tightened her grip and pulled him toward her, Jarod realized her touch wasn't as cold as it initially felt. In fact, the longer it pressed against his body, the more warmth radiated through him.
"Why are you here?" he asked when she helped him on to the mattress.
"Are you complaining?"
"Curious."
She held the blanket up until he slid his legs into place, then gently let it drape his body. Leaning forward, she pulled the sheet and blankets across his chest, tucking them under his arms and smoothing them over his abdomen while she straightened. When she started to turn away, Jarod lifted his hand on top of hers and squeezed it tenderly, bringing her vivid blue eyes back to him.
"Someone once told me that I shouldn't ignore a turning point when it's staring me in the face."
"And this is a turning point."
"At the very least, it's a bend in the road," she said, drawing her hand away.
Taking a deep breath, Jarod brought his hand back to his side, watching her intently as she moved to the window. She took the book into her hands and absently flipped through the ruined pages before replacing it over the heat register. When she finally faced him again, he shifted restlessly in the bed and dropped his eyes. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Were you close enough for my mother, or her kidnappers to recognize you?"
She cocked an eyebrow at him and folded her arms across her chest. "In case you dozed off while I was talking, they were obviously Sweepers. If they'd seen me, do you think I would be standing here, talking to you?"
Meeting her gaze with a shy smile, he nodded then reached for the phone. Picking up the handset, he held it out to her. "Good. Then they won't be suspicious when you call and tell them you've found me."
*********
Except for a soft moan of protest, she didn't move as she was carried effortlessly through the garage and into the house. Her clothes were wet, her body shivering beneath them and her face was covered with perspiration. When he laid her on the sofa in front of the fire, Margaret curled into a ball, bringing her head to her knees and whispered something none of them understood.
"How long has she been like this?"
"About forty minutes," the man answered. Removing his gloves, he rubbed his hands together and stepped closer to the heat of the fire. "But she wasn't exactly responsive before that, either."
"Has she said anything?"
Chuckling, the man turned away from the flames and shook his head. "Only that she wasn't going to tell us anything. She's as stubborn as her son."
"We'll see about that. Take her to the room at the top of the stairs," he spat, signaling the guard posted at the garage door. Then, motioning to the woman in the kitchen, he ordered, "Go with them. Get her out of those wet clothes and into something dry. I'll be up in a few minutes to examine and question her."
"Yes, Doctor."
Moving to the base of the steps, he watched his orders being carried out, then turned to the man still standing in front of the fire. "Did you find anything when you searched her room?"
"I was wondering when you would ask," the younger man replied. Shrugging out of his wet coat, he reached into the pocket. Retrieving a black billfold, he turned it over in his hand once, then smiled and tossed it to the older man before letting his coat fall over the arm of a chair. "This was all she had with her."
Running his fingers across the identification inside the wallet, the doctor breathed a sigh of satisfaction. "It's enough."
"For now," the man agreed, "but, it's not exactly what we're looking for, at the moment."
"Have you learned nothing? This proves they've had contact. If she told him about the scrolls, then he'll try to use them to get her back."
"And, if she hasn't?"
He smiled and held Jarod's driver's license to the light. "He's a smart boy. He'll figure it out for himself."
*********
"Will he help us?"
"Sydney will always help," she answered, letting the door close behind her. "You, of all people, should know that. He'll contact Broots and bring him up to speed. In the morning, he'll start looking for a safe house. Once he's found one, he'll call and we can get things rolling."
"I'd rather not wait," he admitted, glaring at her as she dropped into the chair beside him, "The sooner . ."
"Yeah, well, that's just too damn bad, isn't it? I'm not making that phone call until everything is in place," she said. Crossing her legs, Miss Parker leaned back and sighed, "So, you may as well get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."
Jarod let his head fall back to the pillows and took a deep breath. It had taken him over an hour to convince her that his plan would work; now, all he could do is hope he had considered every possible angle. As much as he would like to think otherwise, he and his mother were not the only people with something at stake.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Keeping her eyes closed, she answered, "I haven't done anything, yet. You can thank me, when we find your mother."
"I will," he smiled.
"Now, shut up and go to sleep."
He watched her find a more comfortable position in the chair, then turned his eyes back to the ceiling. Whether it was the photo of his mother and Catherine that was spurring her on, or something else, it was obvious that Parker was as anxious as he was. She had already gone out of her way to help them, so, whatever her reasons, Jarod had no intention of questioning her motives. Yet.
Besides, his thoughts kept slipping back to the brief time he'd spent with his mother. The feel of her arms around him, the sound of her voice, the blush that spread across her face when she talked about his father were all sensations he would take comfort in. However, snippets of their conversations came back to him without warning, soon followed by a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"I can keep you safe," he promised, "I can keep us both safe."
"If the Centre found out ..."
"They won't."
"Of course they will. They always find out and, when they do, they'll make life that much more dangerous for you and . . ."
Rolling his head to the side, he pulled the blankets to his shoulders and stared at the falling snow. He knew his mother would never, willingly, tell anyone from the Centre that they'd been together, but Jarod had no doubt that whoever was responsible for their accident and her disappearance didn't need her to tell them.
His mother had been right, the Centre always found out. This time, though, Jarod was going to use the information against them.
*********
TBC