Note: I want to thank all of you for the feedback. You're wonderful! This part is a little shorter than I intended, but it seemed a good place to end it. If RL and my muse cooperate, there may be another part to this story in the next week or so but I'm not promising. Thanks again!

Disclaimer in part 1

Guilty

Part 7

by imagine

Closing the door, Miss Parker ignored Jarod's voice angrily calling out to her and faced Victor, who was standing guard. She handed him the keys to her rental and ordered him to bring her the bags that were still stowed in the trunk. When the sweeper hesitated, shooting an unsure glance at Jarod's room, she shook her head and sighed loudly.

"Are you capable of logical thought?" she snapped. Holding up the parcel of clothes that were still tucked under her arm, she continued in an irritated voice, "Exactly how far do you think he'd get without these? Now, I want to take a shower and change my clothes. Bring me my things!"

Then, without allowing the man a chance to respond, Miss Parker turned on her heel and entered her the room that had been designated as hers. Unlike Jarod's room, which held nothing more than a bed with an wrought iron headboard and a low, three drawer dresser made of Oak veneer, the furniture in her room was ornately decorated and appeared to be hand carved from high quality Maple.

Depositing the bundle of clothes at the edge of the four-poster bed, she opened the closet door and each drawer in the desk and highboy, searching for surveillance devices. These were her private chambers, at least for tonight, and she had no intention of allowing the Centre to keep a record of her movements. When she found the tiny camera propped against the edge of the beveled mirror, she grinned and pulled it from its source. A second camera was found in the bathroom, attached to the lip of the medicine cabinet; and a third was found in the elaborately twisted valance above the window beside the bed.

Sliding all three devices into her pocket, she turned her attention on the falling snow. Jarod was right; morning would be too late to make a move. At the rate the snow was falling, all roads in the area would be completely buried before morning. She stared at the rental car parked forty yards away, then at the heavy gray clouds and shook her head. If they had any chance of escaping, they had to do it tonight; they weren't going to have time to scrape snow and ice off their car first. Making a mental note to check out the vehicles in the garage, she turned away from the window when there was a knock at her door.

Her long strides swallowed the room easily and, when she opened the door, she found Victor standing miserably in the hall. Melting snow dripped from his hair, his face was red from the cold and his gloves and jacket were crusted with ice. He let both bags slide from his shoulder and deposited them wordlessly just inside her door; but, before he could turn away, Miss Parker grabbed the man by the arm and made him face her.

"Remind your boss that I am the Chairman's daughter. If I find any more of these in my room," she hissed, pressing the three surveillance devices into his palm, "I will not only rip it out, I will find him and do the same to his throat. Got it?"

Without a word, Victor nodded and was still staring dumbly at her when she closed the door in his face.

*********

The sweeper stepped in announced, his eyes roaming the room curiously before settling on the Pretender. Huddled under the blankets, Jarod looked up only long enough to scowl and drop his head back to the pillows.

"What do you want?"

"Where's the other guy?"

"If you mean Sydney, he went to his room."

"I didn't see him leave."

Jarod raised his head and glared at the man. "Then you need to go back to Sweeper School, or wherever the hell it is that they train you guys, because he left a few minutes ago. From the looks of you, you were probably outside knocking down snowmen at the time."

"So you're here alone," the man verified, ignoring the sarcasm.

"No, but I would prefer to be," he replied tiredly.

Removing his damp jacket and gloves, Victor tossed the garments on to the foot of Jarod's bed, returning the Pretender's annoyed look with one that was much more dangerous as he started around the room. Jarod shifted under the blankets, sliding his legs to a dryer spot and watched silently as the sweeper opened the closet door. Finding the small space empty, Victor crossed to the window and pulled at it, confirming that it was still sealed shut before retrieving his things and heading for the door.

"Just remember what I told you," he warned when Jarod propped himself up on his elbows, "behave yourself and we won't have any problems."

"I hate to disappoint you, we're definitely going to have problems," Jarod responded, "In fact, I can guarantee it."

Raising an eyebrow, the man smiled darkly and nodded. "Good."

*********

After exchanging the wool pants and jacket for jeans and a heavy sweater, Miss Parker left her room intent on searching the safe house. Though it had been a Centre property for decades, she had never set foot inside the house and was curious about the secrets as well as the answers it might hold.

She found Victor sitting dutifully between her room and Jarod's, his arms folded across his chest and his expression as hard as would be expected. With barely a nod in his direction, she started down the hall.

During his sweep of the mainframe for the status of nearby safe havens, Broots had discovered this safe house was being used as the headquarters for an operation named Prophecy. Though he had been unable to determine anything else, and promised to continue searching, Miss Parker had made the decision to put Jarod's plan in motion. She called the Centre from Jarod's hospital room, telling them she needed a place to keep the Pretender until the airport opened, expecting them to route her to an empty house located two hours from the hospital. Armed with Jarod's illness and his importance to the Centre, she was prepared to argue against being sent such a distance and force her way into the middle of operation Prophecy. To her surprise, however, she was never given the opportunity because, upon hearing she had Jarod in custody, she received detailed driving directions to this house and hearty congratulations from the Director's assistant, but was never advised it was already occupied.

At the top of her list of things to do was discovering who Cox's mysterious associate was and what they were up to. In a close second, was determining if Jarod's mother was as much of a victim in all of this as he believed she was. As she approached the room they believed held Jarod's mother, Miss Parker could not help wondering if Margaret had a connection to Prophecy, or if her presence was due purely to her relationship to Jarod.

"Parker, where are you going?"

She stopped at the top of the stairs, in front of the female guard, and turned to face the psychiatrist. Waiting until he caught up with her, she replied, "I'm just going for a walk. I want to check a few things out."

"What about Jarod?"

"What about him?"

"His clothes, Parker," the older man growled, "You can't leave him like that indefinitely."

"I don't see why not," she shrugged, "he's definitely got the body for it."

"Parker, really . ."

"Oh, relax, will you?" she snapped, "I have no intention of leaving him in his birthday suit forever. I'll give him his clothes when I get back, all right?"

"Why not give them to him now?"

"Because I don't want him underfoot," she hissed, "Besides, weren't you the one who said he should rest? This way, he's got no alternative but to stay in bed so why don't you go sing him a lullaby, or something? I have work to do."

*********

Emma stared at the note for what seemed like the hundredth time and then shoved it back into her pocket.

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.

There was no denying that she had liked Jarod and Miss Parker, but she wasn't sure she liked them enough to allow herself to get dragged into some twisted drama. Besides, it had been the police who showed up looking for Jarod, and all they wanted was to return something they had uncovered at the accident and to ask a few follow up questions. There was nothing suspicious or sinister about them, nothing for Jarod or Miss Parker to be concerned about.

She glanced at the note again, unsure. Finally, Emma made up her mind and, picking up the telephone, quickly dialed the number on the card. On the first ring, she held her breath. On the second ring, she told herself she was doing the right thing. On the third ring, she told herself she should hang up. On the fourth ring, the call was answered.

"Hello?"

"Um, I'm sorry," Emma apologized, hearing the male voice. Glancing at the card in her hand, she shook her head, and added, "I must have misdialed."

"Is this Emma?"

She hesitated, glancing nervously around the nurse's station before nodding. "Yes, but . . how did you know?"

"I'm a friend of Miss Parker's," he told her, "She said you might call."

*********

After exploring the house for almost an hour, she found that, aside from the kitchen, a large library at the west end of the building, and a door that led to the basement, the rooms on the first floor were locked. When she asked, a woman in the kitchen told her that the dining room would be open an hour before dinner and not a moment sooner.

"And the other rooms?" Parker demanded, "There are three other locked doors here."

"I don't know anything about the other rooms," the woman answered, returning to her duties, "You'll have to ask Mr. Cox."

Though she was annoyed, Miss Parker decided to make the most of the situation. Stepping into the library, she started by scanning the dusty books lining the walls with cynical curiosity. The fact that the room held hundreds of books ranging from science and genealogy to history and religion was not a surprise; however, despite the amount of information it contained, she had the feeling nothing it held would answer her questions.

"Are you looking for something in particular, Miss Parker?"

Sliding her hand across the volumes in front of her, she scanned each of the titles before turning to face the man. "Impressive selection, Cox. Some of these are First Editions."

"And this surprises you?"

"Not really," she sighed, watching him make himself comfortable on one of the leather chairs beside the fireplace. "The Centre has always had a thirst for knowledge. The problem is that this room is missing something."

"And what would that be?"

"The truth."

*********

"Hello?" she called, knocking on the door, "Is someone out there? Please."

Stepping back as the door opened inward, Margaret slid her hand into the pocket of her sweater and anxiously fingered the pills. She smiled at the young woman who appeared, then took another step back. "Thank you. I was beginning to think I'd been abandoned."

The sweeper glanced up and down the hall, then shook her head. "Hardly. What do you need?"

"To see my son."

"I'm sorry," the woman answered, backing into the hall, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Wait!" she rushed toward the woman then stopped a few feet from the door. "Please, don't leave. I know you brought him here on a stretcher. I saw you," she insisted, pointing toward the window. "I just need to make sure he's all right."

"I don't have the auth . ."

Holding up her hand, Margaret interrupted the woman then, hugging herself started back toward the bed. "I know I shouldn't be asking, it's just that . . he's my son. He was taken from me when he was four and . ." she sighed again and let her words fade. Shaking her head, she leaned against the bed and faced the other woman.

"What's your name?" she asked softly.

"Jenna."

"Pretty name," Margaret smiled, sliding on to the bed. "Do you have any children, Jenna?"

"No."

"Nieces, nephews?"

Jenna hesitated, then nodded. "I have a nephew."

"How old is he?"

"Twelve."

"Do you have any pictures?"

She nodded. "A few."

"May I see them, Jenna? Please?"

Again, Jenna hesitated, then glanced up and down the hall before stepping further into the room and closing the door. Reaching into the inside pocket of her jacket, she retrieved a small wallet and held it out.

"His name is Paul."

"Paul is a good looking boy," Margaret commented, flipping through the three other photos in the wallet. "Is this him as a toddler?"

Jenna nodded and reached for the wallet, frowning when Margaret turned away.

"He looks about six in this photo," she commented, her back to the sweeper. "He's adorable. What would you do if you knew he was sick, or hurt .."

"I can't let you see your son," Jenna interrupted angrily. Stepping forward, she grabbed the wallet from Margaret's hands and slipped it into her jacket pocket. "That was a pretty lame attempt, by the way. Did you really think I would . ."

Looking up, Margaret met the sweeper's hard gaze with one that was soft and glistening with tears. "Please."

*********

After leaving the library, and Cox, she continued down the hall to the attached garage. Luckily, the entrance was one that was not locked and Miss Parker smiled at the assortment of vehicles at her disposal. Ambling down the narrow aisles that separated them, she peered into each tinted window like a kid standing outside a toy store at Christmas. Finally, deciding to the luxury cars were impractical considering the weather, she pulled at the driver's side door of a Ford Expedition and made her decision. As luck would have it, the keys were in the car.

When she returned to the house, a mere ten minutes later, she found the library empty. At first, his absence meant nothing; but, as she continued toward the Great Room and the wooden staircase, she could hear his voice floating down from the second floor. Quickening her pace, Miss Parker stopped when she saw the door to Margaret's room was slightly ajar and, though she couldn't see the faces, Cox's smooth patronizing tone was unmistakable.

"Jarod is here," he admitted, "but, until you tell us what we need to know, he is off limits. If you are not willing to share the information, for the sake of your son, maybe he will be willing to do so for your sake."

"He doesn't know anything," she complained.

Ignoring Margaret, he turned to the sweeper, "I am surprised at you, Jenna. You know better than to bother me with matters that you have already given instruction."

"Yes, Sir," the woman nodded, "but, she seemed . ."

"I don't care how she seemed," the man blustered, "you were told to be cautious around her. You were warned that she might attempt to use your emotions against you and you insisted you could handle the situation if it arose. Obviously, you overestimated your own abilities and this will be noted in your permanent file."

"Oooh, the dreaded permanent file. If I were you, Jenna, I would start shaking in my boots," Miss Parker said, stepping into the room. "What the hell is the problem here, Cox?"

"Miss Parker," he groaned, "what are you doing here? This is a private discussion."

"Then you should learn to close doors," she replied. Then, shifting her gaze from the man to Margaret as the woman pushed her hand into the pocket of her sweater. She watched the woman's fist clench inside the pocket and then met the woman's eyes. "So, what is it you want?"

"To see my son," she repeated.

"And, in return, are you willing to part with whatever it is Cox is foaming at the mouth about?"

Her eyes widened and, after looking between each of the Centre operatives, Margaret sighed and nodded. "Once I know Jarod is safe, I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Unacceptable."

She turned her attention on the man, folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. "I'm sorry, did someone ask you for your opinion? You had your shot at negotiations and you blew it. Besides, Jarod is my responsibility and if I say he can visit with Mommy, then he can visit with Mommy."

"Allowing the two of them in the same room, alone, is asking for trouble, Miss Parker."

"Who the hell said they would be alone?" she dared. "We have two reasonably intelligent Sweepers at our disposal, Cox. Use them, damn it. Put them in the room with Jarod and his mother; have them record the conversation. Use your head, will you?"

"She has a point," a male voice added from behind, "Allow the four of them to have dinner together; but, not in this room and not in Jarod's. You need a third room, one that has been stripped of all furnishings and has a working security system still in place. If you do not underestimate either of them, you should be safe."

Spinning in place, Miss Parker stared at the man who entered and instinctively reached for her automatic. "Alex."

*********