Disclaimer in part 1
Guilty
part 5
by imagine
Jarod blinked away the heavy fog of sleep, slowly rolled to one side and retrieved his wrist watch from the bed stand. As he pulled back, he noticed the tube protruding from his hand and frowned. Letting his eyes follow it to the bag hanging from the metal stand beside the bed, he fingered the IV for a moment, contemplating when it had been put in and why, then sighed and turned his attention on the face of the timepiece. Finding both hands at the twelve o'clock position, he threw off his blankets and pulled his legs to the side of the bed, gripping the bed railing when the room began to tip.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Surprised by the voice, he looked up as she entered but said nothing until she took him by the shoulders and began to gently lower him back to the pillows.
"It's noon," he protested, holding out his watch as proof of his statement.
"I know how to tell time," she interrupted, slipping the Bulova in her pocket.
"It's late," he continued, "By now, we should . ." Her eyes met his as his head came in contact with the pillow and Jarod fell silent. Something wasn't right. Glancing at his arm, he lifted it to show her the IV. "When was this put in?"
"Early this morning."
"Why?"
"Because you needed it."
He stared at her. Her expression was hard, one that Jarod immediately associated with the persona he thought she had shed after Carthis. The blankets were pulled to his chest and, when he tried to push them off, Miss Parker grabbed him by the shoulders and held him down. Though he could have easily broken her grip, Jarod became still, suddenly realizing that her touch was cold, the exact opposite of the support and compassion he remembered from the night before.
"Sydney will be in to see you in a minute," she said, slowly releasing him, "Once he verifies you're able to travel, we'll be on our way."
Sydney. Sydney was supposed to be working with Broots to find a safe house.
Despite the blankets, a chill traveled up his spine and Jarod pulled them to his neck while sliding his eyes to the window. His breath caught in his throat, then came in rapid gasps as he realized his mother's book, bag and clothes were gone. He snapped his eyes back to the bed stand then reached over and searched the shallow top drawer until Parker pushed him back to the pillows.
"The ring . ." he puffed, "What . ."
"You're going to hyperventilate," she warned, "Calm down."
He closed his eyes for a moment, calling on every relaxation method he'd ever learned to distance himself from the panic growing inside. When he finally opened his eyes, she was still hovering above him, her arms crossed and watching him with one eyebrow raised. Her face was, once again, a mask of indifference but he saw something in her eyes, something he couldn't explain, something that reassured him. He opened his mouth, intent on demanding an explanation, but before he could find his voice, the door opened.
Distracted by the new arrivals, Jarod followed Parker's gaze and watched the couple take positions on either side of the doorway. Suddenly, he realized that finding out where his mother's belongings were was the least of his problems.
The woman was about Parker's height and weight, but, unlike his huntress, the woman's dark blonde hair was styled in a short, asymmetrical cut, the long side hanging loosely over her right eyebrow. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, and her eyes were hidden by a pair of tinted wire rimmed glasses. She caught his gaze and, for a moment, Jarod thought she might say something; when she didn't, he focused on her companion.
Jarod guessed the man to be about his height, but his thick biceps and barrel chest indicated he carried at least fifteen pounds more than the Pretender. His hair was light and so thin it gave an initial impression that it was receding when it was not. Like his partner, he was dressed in dark pants and a heavy jacket that displayed the insignia of a local chapter of paramedics, his hands pushed deeply into the front pockets.
Though Jarod didn't recognize either of the arrivals, their straight backs, rigid shoulders and threatening scowls were too familiar to ignore. There was no doubt in his mind that they were sweepers.
"What are they doing here?" he growled, shifting his attention back to Miss Parker.
"Think of them as Centre-issue baby-sitters."
His gaze followed as she crossed confidently to the door, glancing hesitantly at the two guards when she stopped in front of them, while his mind raced to validate his memories. She had promised to help find his mother. She had given him his mother's ring and he had heard the guilt in her voice when she told him about witnessing her abduction. She had stayed with him, listened to him, talked with him. He had seen the determination in her eyes when he told her his plan and, though she hadn't liked it, she had agreed to help. Hadn't she? Suddenly, he wasn't sure of anything.
"I don't understand. Last night ..."
"What's to understand?" she interrupted, yanking open the door. "Regardless of where you were headed last night, Jarod, the road has turned. You're going back where you belong."
*********
"Oh, good, you're back."
"I told you I would be. Have you been with her this entire time?" he asked as the other man emerged from the bedroom. "When I left this morning, you were going up to see her."
"She's not as well as I had hoped," he sighed, "I've had to spend much more time tending her than I had anticipated."
Catching a quick glance of the sleeping woman as the door closed, he turned back to the doctor. "What do you mean? Is she still running a fever?"
"The fever broke about an hour ago but she's in a great deal of pain, both emotionally and physically, to be of any use. I gave her something to help her rest. We can try to question her again, in a couple of hours . ."
"A couple of hours?" the man repeated angrily, "After everything I went through to locate her and bring her here, you're going to wait a couple of hours so she can rest?"
"We don't have any other choice," he replied calmly, "Her injuries are minor; but, she blames herself for her son being hurt and she's all but convinced herself that he's going to die as a result. In her current state, we would not be able to trust anything she tells us."
"She's Jarod's mother, there was a limit as to how much we were going to believe anyway."
"I'm telling you, if you insist on questioning her, you're running the risk of having her completely shut down. She'll be of no use to you if she's catatonic."
"So, that's it?" he dared, waving toward the closed door, "We're just going to abandon everything we've worked for because she's been traumatized? What about the scrolls? What about ...?"
"Relax," he smiled, heading toward the stairs, "Victor and Jenna will be back in a few hours and, when they return, they'll have everything we need with them. Now, why don't we go downstairs and you can tell me what you found out."
"What?" He grabbed the man's shoulder, spinning him so they were face to face. "They were under strict orders, from me, to guard that woman in there. Where the hell did they go?"
"To get Jarod."
*********
Sydney offered nothing to help ease Jarod's confusion. During the first twenty minutes of his visit, he took Jarod's temperature, poked at the glands in his throat and listened to his heart. He asked how his protege was feeling, made small talk about the storm that had passed and the one on its way, and, when Jarod turned away, focusing his attention on the snow covered buildings across the street, Sydney promised things would get better.
"You had an episode last night," he explained, waiting until Jarod was facing him before adding, "When Miss Parker found you, you were struggling valiantly against two orderlies who were restraining you against the bed. You were shivering, sweating and cursing for them to let you go."
"I was delirious? How high was my fever?"
"Too high."
Jarod stared at the point where the IV invaded his hand and shook his head. "I don't remember."
"Of course you don't," Sydney smiled, patting the younger man's arm.
"I remember something much different," he said quietly.
Ignoring the pressure on his arm as the blood pressure cuff inflated, he looked back at the window, hoping for some indication that his mother's belongings had once been neatly stacked beneath it. Shaking his head, he turned his eyes toward the ceiling, replaying everything Sydney had told him about last night and trying desperately to make the version agree with his own.
He remembered the visit from the police and the anger he had felt when they told him they believed his mother was dead. He remembered guiltily going through his mother's things, hoping for some clue as to who she was, and fighting the urge to believe she was gone forever. He remembered the relief he felt when Parker told him she was alive, the panic that had washed over him when he found out she'd been abducted by the Centre and the anxiousness of planning her rescue. Could Sydney be right? Had it all been one big hallucination?
"So, tell me, Sydney, why are they here?" he asked, his head rolling to the side as he motioned toward the guards with his free hand, "If I'm as bad off as you say, I'm in no condition to run. Surely, Miss Parker has enough confidence in herself to believe she could keep me here on her own."
"I'm afraid it isn't Miss Parker's choice. The Centre isn't taking chances," he answered solemnly. Removing the apparatus from around Jarod's arm, he dutifully marked the results in his chart before adding, "They insisted on escorts to keep you in line and assure your transport."
"Amazing. You call them escorts and Miss Parker refers to them as my baby-sitters. We all know what they are, and what they're trained to do, Sydney," he spat, not bothering to hide his disgust. "The fact that they're here just proves I've been trusting the wrong people. I thought the two of you understood why I escaped. After Carthis, I thought Parker understood."
"When Miss Parker called to tell me she'd found you, and what condition you were in, she was genuinely concerned for you," Sydney assured him, "The Centre wanted to assign Mr. Cox to your case because I was in California but Miss Parker held them off, insisting I was better suited to the job. The 'baby-sitters' were part of a compromise she had no choice in; they were sent to police the situation and to notify the powers when I arrived. If I did not appear by dawn, Mr. Cox would be sent as my replacement. Luckily, I was already at the airport when she called, so it was just a matter of changing flights."
Jarod looked up slowly, his eyes darting anxiously toward the two guards before meeting his mentor's gaze. "You were at the airport?"
"Broots and I were in San Franciso, looking for you at the medical conference." Sydney nodded and slid his hand into Jarod's, "We arrived a little after three and, thankfully, you were showing signs of improvement; but it will be a another day or so before you're back on your feet.
The door opened and, as if on cue, Miss Parker entered with a wheel chair. She glanced at Jarod and Sydney, then handed over control of the chair to the male guard.
"Because of your accident, the local authorities have taken an interest in your recovery so we can't stay here any longer," Sydney continued, "and the airports are closed so we can't transport you to the Centre just yet."
"What a shame," Jarod growled, his attention on the approaching guard. When the man came to a stop beside Sydney, every muscle in the Pretender's body seemed to tense, except for the ones wrapped in his mentor's hand.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to do your recovery in a Centre safehouse located about an hour and a half from here," Sydney told him, "I don't want to sedate you, Jarod, so, please, just let Victor help you into the chair. I promise, everything we're doing is for the best."
His eyes narrowed, sliding from the guard to Sydney. After squeezing the older man's hand, he drew it back and laid it across his chest. "I understand."
*********
Emma walked through the halls toward her assigned station, smiling and nodding genially to those she passed. Despite the fact that most of the people she greeted had been coworkers and friends for more than ten years, at the moment, she could not recall their names. Her mind was far from work, still reliving the night before and the surprise that had been waiting for her at home.
The drive from the hospital to the three bedroom house normally took less than thirty minutes; however, because of the storm, it had taken twice as long. As much as she loved the look of a fresh blanket of snow, she despised the havoc it wreaked but, at first, the extended commute was something she took in stride. With her husband, Mike, still in Chicago, she reminded herself that she had the house to herself. After a nice hot shower and a light dinner, she would curl up in bed with a large mug of Irish coffee and read the latest Grisham novel until she fell asleep.
Half way home, however, she heard a radio report identifying her town as one of many affected by weather related power outages and all her plans faded into frustration. At least she could build a fire and sleep in the family room, she reminded herself, there were many who would not have that option. By the time she pulled into the driveway, every muscle in Emma's back and neck were stretched to their limit. Once in the garage, she sat in the car a few moments rolling her neck from side to side and curling her shoulders in hopes of relieving the tension. When the temperature in the car started to fall, she sighed and moved into the house, concentrating on the exercises rather than the cold, dark rooms that waited for her.
She slipped out of her coat, boots, scarves and hat, leaving them by the door and moved tiredly through the kitchen. At first, she attributed the soft glow of light to the reflection of the moon on the snow outside, but, as she reached the edge of the room her senses picked up the scent of burning apples. Turning, she noticed the lit candle, the long stemmed rose and the note taped beside them on the table.
You'll find a surprise at every flame. Blow out this one and you'll find another.
Suddenly, her spirits were lifted. With a smile, she picked up the rose, blew out the candle and moved into the next room. As promised, a second candle was burning in the middle of the dining room table. Beside it, was a small, ceramic angel holding a rose and another note.
You are my life.
In the living room, she found a third candle, another rose and a framed photo she had never seen. Holding it closer to the flame, she ran her fingers over the images of her and her husband smiling at each other in the dark. A bonfire glowed behind them and, though she didn't remember the picture being taken, she knew where they had been when it was and tears welled in her eyes.
I need you.
She moved into the family room, expecting to find him in front of the hearth; but, instead, she found an empty room. Propped on top of the mantle, beside a plate of fruit and another rose, was a third note.
Turn around.
She turned as his arms wrapped around her waist, meeting his lips as he whispered, "I love you."
Emma's smile was still bright as she rounded the corner and stepped behind her station. Taking a deep breath, she told herself it was time to concentrate on her job, but her mind kept drifting back to her husband, waiting at home.
"The sooner you start working," she reprimanded herself, "the sooner you can get out of here."
"You just got here," a voice playfully reminded her, "You've got a long way to go before you can leave."
Startled, she turned toward the voice and shrugged.
The woman grinned at the blush on Emma's face. "Judging by the look on your face, I'd say Mike's back."
She nodded and reached for a file. "He got in just before they closed the airport."
"Lucky."
"He got that, too," she murmured, then, before the other woman could respond, quickly faced her and added, "I'm sure you want to get out of here, so why don't you tell me what happened here last night, Kay?"
"Actually, it was pretty uneventful," she said with a sigh, "except the new patient in 310 left."
"310? Jarod left? When?"
"About an hour ago. His doctor transferred him to some sanitarium in Delaware," she pointed at the file as she pulled her purse from a drawer in the desk, "It's in the jacket, along with a note for you from his girlfriend."
Frowning, Emma reached into the file and pulled out a sealed envelope with her name neatly printed on the front. Moving away from the desk, she pulled the folded piece of paper from the envelope, finding a business card paper clipped to the edge.
Emma -
There are a lot of things happening that you're better off not knowing about; however, I need your help. First, for your safety, as well as Jarod's, do not tell anyone what you and I discussed regarding his mother or the accident. Second, this card has my private number, call me if anyone asks questions about me or Jarod. I know I'm asking a lot and you are, obviously, under no obligation; but, I'm hoping you'll realize that I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.
Miss Parker
Emma had no sooner finished reading the note and pushed it into the pocket of her sweater when two uniformed policemen appeared at the desk. She looked at the heavy metal box the younger man propped against the ledge, then glanced between both men.
"Can I help you?"
"We're looking for the patient that was in room 310," the older one said. "Where is he?"
*********
TBC
Guilty
part 5
by imagine
Jarod blinked away the heavy fog of sleep, slowly rolled to one side and retrieved his wrist watch from the bed stand. As he pulled back, he noticed the tube protruding from his hand and frowned. Letting his eyes follow it to the bag hanging from the metal stand beside the bed, he fingered the IV for a moment, contemplating when it had been put in and why, then sighed and turned his attention on the face of the timepiece. Finding both hands at the twelve o'clock position, he threw off his blankets and pulled his legs to the side of the bed, gripping the bed railing when the room began to tip.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Surprised by the voice, he looked up as she entered but said nothing until she took him by the shoulders and began to gently lower him back to the pillows.
"It's noon," he protested, holding out his watch as proof of his statement.
"I know how to tell time," she interrupted, slipping the Bulova in her pocket.
"It's late," he continued, "By now, we should . ." Her eyes met his as his head came in contact with the pillow and Jarod fell silent. Something wasn't right. Glancing at his arm, he lifted it to show her the IV. "When was this put in?"
"Early this morning."
"Why?"
"Because you needed it."
He stared at her. Her expression was hard, one that Jarod immediately associated with the persona he thought she had shed after Carthis. The blankets were pulled to his chest and, when he tried to push them off, Miss Parker grabbed him by the shoulders and held him down. Though he could have easily broken her grip, Jarod became still, suddenly realizing that her touch was cold, the exact opposite of the support and compassion he remembered from the night before.
"Sydney will be in to see you in a minute," she said, slowly releasing him, "Once he verifies you're able to travel, we'll be on our way."
Sydney. Sydney was supposed to be working with Broots to find a safe house.
Despite the blankets, a chill traveled up his spine and Jarod pulled them to his neck while sliding his eyes to the window. His breath caught in his throat, then came in rapid gasps as he realized his mother's book, bag and clothes were gone. He snapped his eyes back to the bed stand then reached over and searched the shallow top drawer until Parker pushed him back to the pillows.
"The ring . ." he puffed, "What . ."
"You're going to hyperventilate," she warned, "Calm down."
He closed his eyes for a moment, calling on every relaxation method he'd ever learned to distance himself from the panic growing inside. When he finally opened his eyes, she was still hovering above him, her arms crossed and watching him with one eyebrow raised. Her face was, once again, a mask of indifference but he saw something in her eyes, something he couldn't explain, something that reassured him. He opened his mouth, intent on demanding an explanation, but before he could find his voice, the door opened.
Distracted by the new arrivals, Jarod followed Parker's gaze and watched the couple take positions on either side of the doorway. Suddenly, he realized that finding out where his mother's belongings were was the least of his problems.
The woman was about Parker's height and weight, but, unlike his huntress, the woman's dark blonde hair was styled in a short, asymmetrical cut, the long side hanging loosely over her right eyebrow. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, and her eyes were hidden by a pair of tinted wire rimmed glasses. She caught his gaze and, for a moment, Jarod thought she might say something; when she didn't, he focused on her companion.
Jarod guessed the man to be about his height, but his thick biceps and barrel chest indicated he carried at least fifteen pounds more than the Pretender. His hair was light and so thin it gave an initial impression that it was receding when it was not. Like his partner, he was dressed in dark pants and a heavy jacket that displayed the insignia of a local chapter of paramedics, his hands pushed deeply into the front pockets.
Though Jarod didn't recognize either of the arrivals, their straight backs, rigid shoulders and threatening scowls were too familiar to ignore. There was no doubt in his mind that they were sweepers.
"What are they doing here?" he growled, shifting his attention back to Miss Parker.
"Think of them as Centre-issue baby-sitters."
His gaze followed as she crossed confidently to the door, glancing hesitantly at the two guards when she stopped in front of them, while his mind raced to validate his memories. She had promised to help find his mother. She had given him his mother's ring and he had heard the guilt in her voice when she told him about witnessing her abduction. She had stayed with him, listened to him, talked with him. He had seen the determination in her eyes when he told her his plan and, though she hadn't liked it, she had agreed to help. Hadn't she? Suddenly, he wasn't sure of anything.
"I don't understand. Last night ..."
"What's to understand?" she interrupted, yanking open the door. "Regardless of where you were headed last night, Jarod, the road has turned. You're going back where you belong."
*********
"Oh, good, you're back."
"I told you I would be. Have you been with her this entire time?" he asked as the other man emerged from the bedroom. "When I left this morning, you were going up to see her."
"She's not as well as I had hoped," he sighed, "I've had to spend much more time tending her than I had anticipated."
Catching a quick glance of the sleeping woman as the door closed, he turned back to the doctor. "What do you mean? Is she still running a fever?"
"The fever broke about an hour ago but she's in a great deal of pain, both emotionally and physically, to be of any use. I gave her something to help her rest. We can try to question her again, in a couple of hours . ."
"A couple of hours?" the man repeated angrily, "After everything I went through to locate her and bring her here, you're going to wait a couple of hours so she can rest?"
"We don't have any other choice," he replied calmly, "Her injuries are minor; but, she blames herself for her son being hurt and she's all but convinced herself that he's going to die as a result. In her current state, we would not be able to trust anything she tells us."
"She's Jarod's mother, there was a limit as to how much we were going to believe anyway."
"I'm telling you, if you insist on questioning her, you're running the risk of having her completely shut down. She'll be of no use to you if she's catatonic."
"So, that's it?" he dared, waving toward the closed door, "We're just going to abandon everything we've worked for because she's been traumatized? What about the scrolls? What about ...?"
"Relax," he smiled, heading toward the stairs, "Victor and Jenna will be back in a few hours and, when they return, they'll have everything we need with them. Now, why don't we go downstairs and you can tell me what you found out."
"What?" He grabbed the man's shoulder, spinning him so they were face to face. "They were under strict orders, from me, to guard that woman in there. Where the hell did they go?"
"To get Jarod."
*********
Sydney offered nothing to help ease Jarod's confusion. During the first twenty minutes of his visit, he took Jarod's temperature, poked at the glands in his throat and listened to his heart. He asked how his protege was feeling, made small talk about the storm that had passed and the one on its way, and, when Jarod turned away, focusing his attention on the snow covered buildings across the street, Sydney promised things would get better.
"You had an episode last night," he explained, waiting until Jarod was facing him before adding, "When Miss Parker found you, you were struggling valiantly against two orderlies who were restraining you against the bed. You were shivering, sweating and cursing for them to let you go."
"I was delirious? How high was my fever?"
"Too high."
Jarod stared at the point where the IV invaded his hand and shook his head. "I don't remember."
"Of course you don't," Sydney smiled, patting the younger man's arm.
"I remember something much different," he said quietly.
Ignoring the pressure on his arm as the blood pressure cuff inflated, he looked back at the window, hoping for some indication that his mother's belongings had once been neatly stacked beneath it. Shaking his head, he turned his eyes toward the ceiling, replaying everything Sydney had told him about last night and trying desperately to make the version agree with his own.
He remembered the visit from the police and the anger he had felt when they told him they believed his mother was dead. He remembered guiltily going through his mother's things, hoping for some clue as to who she was, and fighting the urge to believe she was gone forever. He remembered the relief he felt when Parker told him she was alive, the panic that had washed over him when he found out she'd been abducted by the Centre and the anxiousness of planning her rescue. Could Sydney be right? Had it all been one big hallucination?
"So, tell me, Sydney, why are they here?" he asked, his head rolling to the side as he motioned toward the guards with his free hand, "If I'm as bad off as you say, I'm in no condition to run. Surely, Miss Parker has enough confidence in herself to believe she could keep me here on her own."
"I'm afraid it isn't Miss Parker's choice. The Centre isn't taking chances," he answered solemnly. Removing the apparatus from around Jarod's arm, he dutifully marked the results in his chart before adding, "They insisted on escorts to keep you in line and assure your transport."
"Amazing. You call them escorts and Miss Parker refers to them as my baby-sitters. We all know what they are, and what they're trained to do, Sydney," he spat, not bothering to hide his disgust. "The fact that they're here just proves I've been trusting the wrong people. I thought the two of you understood why I escaped. After Carthis, I thought Parker understood."
"When Miss Parker called to tell me she'd found you, and what condition you were in, she was genuinely concerned for you," Sydney assured him, "The Centre wanted to assign Mr. Cox to your case because I was in California but Miss Parker held them off, insisting I was better suited to the job. The 'baby-sitters' were part of a compromise she had no choice in; they were sent to police the situation and to notify the powers when I arrived. If I did not appear by dawn, Mr. Cox would be sent as my replacement. Luckily, I was already at the airport when she called, so it was just a matter of changing flights."
Jarod looked up slowly, his eyes darting anxiously toward the two guards before meeting his mentor's gaze. "You were at the airport?"
"Broots and I were in San Franciso, looking for you at the medical conference." Sydney nodded and slid his hand into Jarod's, "We arrived a little after three and, thankfully, you were showing signs of improvement; but it will be a another day or so before you're back on your feet.
The door opened and, as if on cue, Miss Parker entered with a wheel chair. She glanced at Jarod and Sydney, then handed over control of the chair to the male guard.
"Because of your accident, the local authorities have taken an interest in your recovery so we can't stay here any longer," Sydney continued, "and the airports are closed so we can't transport you to the Centre just yet."
"What a shame," Jarod growled, his attention on the approaching guard. When the man came to a stop beside Sydney, every muscle in the Pretender's body seemed to tense, except for the ones wrapped in his mentor's hand.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to do your recovery in a Centre safehouse located about an hour and a half from here," Sydney told him, "I don't want to sedate you, Jarod, so, please, just let Victor help you into the chair. I promise, everything we're doing is for the best."
His eyes narrowed, sliding from the guard to Sydney. After squeezing the older man's hand, he drew it back and laid it across his chest. "I understand."
*********
Emma walked through the halls toward her assigned station, smiling and nodding genially to those she passed. Despite the fact that most of the people she greeted had been coworkers and friends for more than ten years, at the moment, she could not recall their names. Her mind was far from work, still reliving the night before and the surprise that had been waiting for her at home.
The drive from the hospital to the three bedroom house normally took less than thirty minutes; however, because of the storm, it had taken twice as long. As much as she loved the look of a fresh blanket of snow, she despised the havoc it wreaked but, at first, the extended commute was something she took in stride. With her husband, Mike, still in Chicago, she reminded herself that she had the house to herself. After a nice hot shower and a light dinner, she would curl up in bed with a large mug of Irish coffee and read the latest Grisham novel until she fell asleep.
Half way home, however, she heard a radio report identifying her town as one of many affected by weather related power outages and all her plans faded into frustration. At least she could build a fire and sleep in the family room, she reminded herself, there were many who would not have that option. By the time she pulled into the driveway, every muscle in Emma's back and neck were stretched to their limit. Once in the garage, she sat in the car a few moments rolling her neck from side to side and curling her shoulders in hopes of relieving the tension. When the temperature in the car started to fall, she sighed and moved into the house, concentrating on the exercises rather than the cold, dark rooms that waited for her.
She slipped out of her coat, boots, scarves and hat, leaving them by the door and moved tiredly through the kitchen. At first, she attributed the soft glow of light to the reflection of the moon on the snow outside, but, as she reached the edge of the room her senses picked up the scent of burning apples. Turning, she noticed the lit candle, the long stemmed rose and the note taped beside them on the table.
You'll find a surprise at every flame. Blow out this one and you'll find another.
Suddenly, her spirits were lifted. With a smile, she picked up the rose, blew out the candle and moved into the next room. As promised, a second candle was burning in the middle of the dining room table. Beside it, was a small, ceramic angel holding a rose and another note.
You are my life.
In the living room, she found a third candle, another rose and a framed photo she had never seen. Holding it closer to the flame, she ran her fingers over the images of her and her husband smiling at each other in the dark. A bonfire glowed behind them and, though she didn't remember the picture being taken, she knew where they had been when it was and tears welled in her eyes.
I need you.
She moved into the family room, expecting to find him in front of the hearth; but, instead, she found an empty room. Propped on top of the mantle, beside a plate of fruit and another rose, was a third note.
Turn around.
She turned as his arms wrapped around her waist, meeting his lips as he whispered, "I love you."
Emma's smile was still bright as she rounded the corner and stepped behind her station. Taking a deep breath, she told herself it was time to concentrate on her job, but her mind kept drifting back to her husband, waiting at home.
"The sooner you start working," she reprimanded herself, "the sooner you can get out of here."
"You just got here," a voice playfully reminded her, "You've got a long way to go before you can leave."
Startled, she turned toward the voice and shrugged.
The woman grinned at the blush on Emma's face. "Judging by the look on your face, I'd say Mike's back."
She nodded and reached for a file. "He got in just before they closed the airport."
"Lucky."
"He got that, too," she murmured, then, before the other woman could respond, quickly faced her and added, "I'm sure you want to get out of here, so why don't you tell me what happened here last night, Kay?"
"Actually, it was pretty uneventful," she said with a sigh, "except the new patient in 310 left."
"310? Jarod left? When?"
"About an hour ago. His doctor transferred him to some sanitarium in Delaware," she pointed at the file as she pulled her purse from a drawer in the desk, "It's in the jacket, along with a note for you from his girlfriend."
Frowning, Emma reached into the file and pulled out a sealed envelope with her name neatly printed on the front. Moving away from the desk, she pulled the folded piece of paper from the envelope, finding a business card paper clipped to the edge.
Emma -
There are a lot of things happening that you're better off not knowing about; however, I need your help. First, for your safety, as well as Jarod's, do not tell anyone what you and I discussed regarding his mother or the accident. Second, this card has my private number, call me if anyone asks questions about me or Jarod. I know I'm asking a lot and you are, obviously, under no obligation; but, I'm hoping you'll realize that I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.
Miss Parker
Emma had no sooner finished reading the note and pushed it into the pocket of her sweater when two uniformed policemen appeared at the desk. She looked at the heavy metal box the younger man propped against the ledge, then glanced between both men.
"Can I help you?"
"We're looking for the patient that was in room 310," the older one said. "Where is he?"
*********
TBC