Disclaimer in part 1
A/N: I know it's been awhile. Sorry, but my muse really is fighting me on this story. I'll try to make the next chapter soon - and longer. Thanks.
Guilty
by imagine
Part 21?
He let himself in through the window then turned to watch her silhouette as it moved along the snow-covered landscape and disappear into the trees. For a brief moment, Jarod thought he saw her turn and smile at him but, the distance was too great to be sure. It was a nice thought, though, and he decided to let himself believe it was true.
The shadows of the basement were long and covered much of the room. With a heavy sigh, Jarod surveyed the dank cellar with a critical eye. Boxes and blanket-covered furniture were placed haphazardly throughout the chamber, making the space appear much smaller than its actual square footage.
He spied an axe and a snow shovel, propped in the corner of the room but, rather than making a move toward them, he started in the opposite direction. Stepping around the carpet that had been discarded in a heap in the middle of the floor, he slowly crossed to the wooden stairs at the edge of the room. Unlike the upper floor, where the staircase split the house into two even sections, the basement stairs were tucked in the far corner. He did not recall seeing the door to the basement when he toured the house, but the positioning of the stairs convinced him that it must have been along the far wall of the dining room.
Placing his hand on the wooden railing, he stared up at the door and considered his next move. He was exhausted - physically, mentally and emotionally - from his walk with Parker and in no condition to take on whoever might be lurking upstairs. But, something was gnawing at him and, the longer he stared at the closed door, the more he had to fight the urge to confront the intruders. After everything that had happened, the thought that Broots and Debbie, or Sydney and his mother, might walk into the cabin, unaware of the danger, was unacceptable.
"Promise me that you will not go looking for trouble. Promise me that you will let yourself inside, find a hiding place, and stay put until they get tired of waiting and leave, or I get back with reinforcements."
Her words came back to him as soon as he placed his foot on the bottom step. Slowly pulling his eyes from the closed door, he turned his attention on the window he'd entered through and swallowed hard. The promise was only minutes old. If he intentionally broke his word, for no reason other than he wanted to be in control of the situation, she would never trust him again.
"Okay, Parker," he sighed, moving away from the staircase, "you win. I'll find a hiding place and stay put. For now."
It took her almost twenty minutes to make the trek up the sharp incline. When she saw the oversized van parked at the edge of the trees, however, her fatigue quickly faded. In less than half a dozen steps, she crossed to where it was parked and pulled on the door handle in vain.
Frustrated, Miss Parker stepped back and glared at the vehicle, quickly deciding that it was the same one that had been disguised as an ambulance to transport Jarod from the hospital to the Centre safe house. The fact that it was here meant that either Alex, or Cox, and a sweeper were lying in wait at the cabin. Her money was on Alex.
Turning to stare at the trail she had just conquered, Miss Parker took in a deep, cold breath and held it until her lungs ached. If she returned to the cabin, to protect Jarod, instead of warning the others, she was trading his well-being for theirs.
"You have to go. You have to warn the others. Broots and Debbie are probably more than half way here, by now. I don't want them walking into something like this."
Releasing the trapped air slowly, she shifted her attention back on the van. In a matter of minutes, she had the door unlocked and the engine hot-wired. Pushing the controls of the heater to the maximum setting, she began rummaging through the contents of the van. Unfortunately, by the time the vehicle was warm, she had uncovered very little of interest or use.
Under the front passenger seat she found a set of binoculars and a satellite phone with a low signal. Frowning, she let the binoculars fall back to the floor but slipped the phone into her jacket pocket, hoping that it would be of use when she was out of the trees. The glove compartment held nothing but maps of the immediate area and the vehicle registration. Shaking her head in disgust, she sat back in the seat and stared at the reflection in the rear view mirror.
The back windows were tinted so none of the interior was visible from the outside but the view from the driver's seat was a different story. Turning slightly, she rose and pushed herself between the two front seats, into the cargo area of the vehicle. A cold steel stretcher, complete with leather wrist and ankle straps, as well as a thin pillow and sheet, was to her right. Behind it was an oxygen tank, its tubing and mask draped over a nearby IV stand.
Sitting in the corner, to her left, under a stark white medical smock, was a bright red plastic box. Miss Parker crouched in front of the container and easily broke the lock, revealing syringes, bandages, medical tape and various other supplies used by the health care industry. At the bottom of the box, wrapped in a white towel, she found a jagged edged hunting knife. Sliding the weapon through the belt of her jeans, she rose and returned to the front of the vehicle.
Quickly settling herself in the seat, she maneuvered the van out of its parking space.
Despite his desire not to, Jarod dozed for minutes at a time. They were fitful naps, filled with images and fears he had spent years trying to erase but, as if in retaliation, they had intensified in recent weeks. When he shook himself awake, it was to the sounds of footsteps above him and to murmured voices. Though he was unable to make out the words that were being spoken, he heard their frustration and smiled. Sometimes, the little things in life made it worthwhile.
Sitting up, he wiped his eyes and looked around the dank room. Because he was never one for sound, peaceful sleeps, over the years, his body had learned to take advantage of any bits of rest he provided. His mind was beginning to sharpen and the muscles in his legs, though still sore, were no longer painful. If he had any complaint about the way his body was recuperating, it was that sitting in the damp basement was starting to cause his joints to stiffen. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head and pushed himself to his feet, telling himself he was getting old.
Pulling his jacket tighter as he crossed to the window, he glanced at the stairs then turned his attention at the view out the window. He had no idea how much time had passed since she left but, judging by the shadows on the snow, he doubted it had been more than an hour. Thoughts of Parker's whereabouts and safety invaded his quiet thoughts, immediately followed by a reminder that she could take care of herself.
Moments later, the sound of heavy footfalls and loud voices interrupted his thoughts. Jarod turned and hurried away from the window, as the door at the top of the stairs opened. Moving into the shadows, he spotted the axe and shovel in the corner but fought the urge to take either one as he crouched behind an old, sheet-covered bureau.
"They're on foot and the snow is almost knee-deep in many places so they could not have gotten far. I expect you to be able to find them, and bring them back, quickly. In fact, since it's apparent our presence is no longer a secret, bring the van around before you start your search. I want to make sure it's ready to transport him."
"Why can't I go out the front door?"
"Because this is the way we came in."
"That's not a reason."
"You need me to explain it to you? Fine," Alex hissed, turning on the sweeper. "There is more cover in the back, especially with night falling, so you won't be seen as readily as if you walked out the front door. Is that reason enough, or do I need to continue?"
Jarod heard the annoyance in Alex's clipped words but, evidently, the sweeper was not as astute. When the man spoke again, not bothering to change is challenging tone, the Pretender shook his head and frowned.
"I just don't know why we can't wait them out. I mean, they don't have a lot of options."
"Neither do we. It's been over two hours. The temperature is dropping and they have no shelter. If we have any hope of controlling his mother, we need Jarod alive and we need him now, before she retrieves the scrolls."
Jarod slid further into the shadows as Alex crossed the room. A few moments later, Victor followed, his eyes on the now open window. Though there was no more conversation, Jarod heard the Sweeper grunting and cursing as he pushed himself out of the window.
Once she traveled outside the tree line, Miss Parker stopped the van and picked up the satellite phone. The signal was definitely stronger. Her eyes darting up the road she had just descended, she quickly dialed Broots' cell phone and prayed the tech's phone was capable of receiving the call.
"Hello?"
"Broots, thank God," she sighed. "Where are you?"
"Miss Parker? Um, Debbie and I are about fifteen minutes from the safe house," he answered, immediately following up with, "Where are you?"
"Are Sydney and Margaret with you?" she asked, ignoring his question.
"No. They're still in town with Emma," he replied. Taking a deep breath, the tech glanced at his daughter and added, "Lyle showed up at the hospital, looking for Jarod. They had to leave in a hurry but they're safe, for now."
"How the hell did Lyle get mixed up in this?" she demanded wearily. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she added, "He was supposed to be in San Francisco."
"All I know is what Emma told me. She said Syndey wanted me to get Debbie back to the safe house as soon as possible."
"Well, I want you to turn around. It's not a safe house anymore," she sighed.
"What do you mean?"
"Alex found the house and is waiting inside with a sweeper. Call Sydney and warn him to stay away, too. I don't want anyone near that house until I give an all clear. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," the tech answered. "But, um, you're forgetting someone."
She shook her head. "No, Broots, I'm not. I'll take care of Jarod."
He smiled at her comment, wondering why she would have thought he'd think otherwise. "I know. I wasn't talking about Jarod."
It took a moment for the words to register and, when they did, Miss Parker's words held a sense of urgency. "I thought you told him to go to the hospital. He was supposed to be there to stop Margaret from disappearing."
"I did," the man insisted, "but when Sydney called me about Lyle, I left him a message to stay away. I didn't want him walking into a situation that could put him in danger. He might think I set him up or something and, well, he does have the boy and Emily with him."
"Are you telling me he's on his way to the safehouse?"
"No, I don't know where he is."
"Which is just as bad, if not worse," she groused. "If something happens to his father, Jarod will never forgive me."
"I could try to reach him again," Broots offered.
There was a long silence as Miss Parker considered her options. Then, just as Broots was about to ask if she was still on the line, the woman spoke. After listening carefully to her instructions, the man nodded and disconnected the call.
Seconds later, he and Debbie were headed back into town and Miss Parker was headed toward the safe house.
"Is everything all set?"
He looked up as the woman entered the room and smiled. "They'll be here around nine."
"With the case?"
"Of course," he sighed, slipping his arms around her. "Otherwise, what's the point?"
"Thank you," she grinned. "You are a miracle worker."
"I don't know about that but, I do have connections. Isn't that why you married me?"
"Not even close," she replied, rewarding him with a quick kiss. Then, pushing him away slightly, she slid her hand into his and pulled him toward the door. "Now, why don't you come out and meet our guests? You can tell them what you've done. I'm sure Margaret will be thrilled."
"I'm sure she will," he murmured, resisting her tow. "But, you realize, I'm not making promises. If they decide she isn't legitimate, they're going to take the case back with them."
"I understand. We'll make sure Margaret understands, too. Now, come on, our guests are waiting."
"In a minute. First, I want to hear about what happened at the hospital. All you told me on the phone was that there was a situation with one of your patients."
Nodding, Emma moved to the sofa in the corner of the office and pulled her husband with her. After they were seated, she slowly told him about her involvement with Jarod and his family. Beginning with the moment the Pretender was brought into the hospital, and ending with the story she'd told Lyle about Jarod being admitted to the psychiatric ward, she explained everything she'd done to help the man. When she was finished, her husband stood and crossed to the door.
"Did you know him?" he asked, facing her. "Do you know anything about Jarod's past, anything real?"
"Only what I told you."
"And yet you helped him? Emma, do you realize the danger you may have put yourself in for a man who might not be playing with a full deck?"
"You weren't there, Mike," she said, standing. "You didn't hear his cries when he had nightmares. You didn't see the panic in his eyes when he thought his mother was dead. You didn't . . ."
"I don't doubt he was in a lot of pain," he conceded, "but, surely, you've had other patients with emotional problems, feelings of abandonment . . ."
"Of course I have," she interrupted, "that's why I know Jarod's situation was different."
"Different how?"
For a brief moment, Emma looked around the room, searching for the words to answer his question. When she met his eyes, she shrugged, "I don't know. Call it intuition, experience or anything you want, all I know is that Jarod is the real deal. He told me the truth."
"But he didn't tell you much, did he?" He sighed heavily and shook his head. "What about this guy you talked to at the hospital? The one you lied to."
"His name was Mr. Lyle, but I don't think I lied. When he heard Jarod had been admitted to the psych ward, he was delighted. The only thing he questioned was when I said Jarod had become violent. Other than that, everything I said seemed to make perfect sense to him."
"Do you believe Jarod was used as a lab rat and that someone experimented on him by stopping his heart?"
"Do I believe it? Yes. Can I prove it? No. When Sydney told me the story and said to use it to distract Lyle, he wouldn't tell me if it was fact or fiction."
"And, this is the same Sydney you brought home?"
She nodded, watching Mike carefully as he began to pace.
"What do you know about this Mr. Lyle?"
Again, Emma shrugged, "Nothing except Margaret and Sydney seemed pretty determined to keep him away from Jarod."
"And, when he finds Jarod is not at the hospital, he's going to come looking for you," he groused. "Perfect."
"What do you want me to say?" she snapped, not bothering hiding the sharpness in her voice. "I did what I thought was necessary to save a man's life. You would have done the same thing. In fact, I know you have."
He shook his head. "Not like this. You may have just put your career, as well as your life, in jeopardy."
"What about the story you wrote last year? The one that ticked off every Armed Forces official from here to DC and back again? If I remember correctly, you accused them of some pretty horrific things, connected them to some questionable organizations and had the proof to back up everything you claimed."
Turning away, he ran his fingers through his hair. "That was different."
"I'm sure you would like to think so," she countered. "The military brass tried every tactic available to get you to stop your investigation, including bribery, threats, and injunctions, but you held your ground. Then, in the eleventh hour, you pulled the story."
"I explained that to you last year. I uncovered something that made the stakes too high."
Stepping behind him, Emma softened her tone and said, "Translation: you found out that the story would endanger the lives of a family you barely knew."
"It was more complicated than that," he said, after a slight hesitation.
"Maybe. But, the bottom line is that you had the ability to protect them, and you did. That's all I'm trying to do for Jarod - protect him by protecting his family."
Victor made it to the top of the sharp incline, huffing and puffing with exertion. Knowing he was just yards from where they had left the van, his hand slid into the pocket of his jacket in search of the keys. Coughing and muttering complaints only he heard, the sweeper lifted his head and came to a dead stop. Spinning in place, his eyes scanned the clearing, his heart beating faster with each second. The van was gone.
His gaze fell on the tire tracks engraved in the snow, then on the footprints that circled the area and his face darkened. There were only one set of markings, and they were small.
Miss Parker was here, he thought, and she took the van. Damn!
His first instinct was to return to the house and share the news with his boss but, even as he turned toward the path, he was distracted by another thought. Moving around the clearing, he stared at the footprints. There was no sign of Jarod.
Victor knew the Pretender and Miss Parker were practically inseparable. She was his protector. So, where was he?
Things were not supposed to be like this, she thought. Lyle was supposed to be searching Northern California for at least another week. The Major and his family were supposed to intercept Margaret before she had a chance to disappear again. Jarod was supposed to be safe and Emma wasn't even supposed to be in the picture anymore.
"How the hell did things get so out of control?" she muttered.
Maneuvering the van around the icy curve, Miss Parker tightened her grip on the steering wheel and told herself she was overreacting. She could only deal with one crisis at a time. Right now, the most important thing to do was to get Jarod out of that house before Alex discovered his presence.
Since the van was their only means of transportation, hiding it would do absolutely no good. Despite an inexplicable feeling that he was actually improving, Jarod's face had been so pale when she left him that Miss Parker needed to prepare for the worst. Besides, she was tired of the cat and mouse games with Alex.
It was time to meet her number one problem head on and hope for the best. Once Alex was taken care of, she and Jarod could discuss how to solve the other problems.
Jarod watched as Alex moved to the bottom of the stairs. With his eyes lowered, he stopped about a yard from his destination, then slowly pivoted, his gaze still on the floor.
Even from his hiding place, Jarod could see the small puddle that had caught Alex's attention. A quick glance at his boots confirmed that the water was produced by snow he had tracked in earlier. Silently chastising himself for not thinking to wipe it up, he watched Alex closely, his body instinctively tensing for battle.
When Alex raised his head, he stared out the window a moment, then turned and scanned the room. His eyes narrowed, his hands balled into fists and, finally, with his back against the wall, the man took a wide legged stance.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are."
Jarod stiffened at the words but did not move. Instead, he watched as Alex took a few paces away from the stairs.
"I have to admit that I am disappointed," he said to the room. "If Victor and I remembered to erase the trail we left, when we entered the room - I would expect you to do the same. After all, you are the one with the higher IQ, aren't you?"
Keeping his body low, Jarod watched the other man while, simultaneously, glanced around his immediate area for something to use as a weapon. Finding nothing, he shifted his body, pressing his shoulder to the bureau and waited.
"Parker left you here, while she went for help, didn't she?" he taunted. "Let me guess, she thought you were too weak to make the trek. How does it feel to know that someone you care about thinks you're weak?"
Backing into the dark corner, his eyes still searching the room for movement, Alex gripped the handle of the axe.
"If it's any consolation, I pegged you as a lot of different things, over the years, but a coward was never one of them. Of course, things have changed, haven't they? You are all alone. No one to be a hero for."
Alex stepped around the carpet rolled up in the middle of the room and started through the maze of furniture. His eyes scanned the shadows on the floor and the wall, searching for a clue to Jarod's hiding place. After a few minutes of heavy silence, when he saw no shift in the shaded patterns, his frustration began to mount. Without warning, Alex suddenly swung the axe over his head and smashed the blade into the side of a wooden crate. Though he was sure the noise must have startled his prey, he saw no indication of movement in the shadows and felt his anger rise. He would not allow Jarod to outsmart him.
"Come on, Jarod," he taunted, "show yourself. You're just delaying the inevitable."
When the axe crashed into the back of the sofa, pushing it against the wall, Jarod held his ground and bit back his reaction to Alex's taunts.
"I can do this all night," he promised, smashing the axe into a stack of boxes. "Or, at the very least, until Victor returns. If we're lucky, he'll have Parker with him."
Gritting his teeth when one of the falling crates hit him in the side, Jarod did not move. Alex was getting closer.
"Won't that be fun?" he hissed, cracking open the side of a covered armoire. "The four of us can have a little party."
When the axe slammed into the top of the bureau he was hiding behind, the Pretender used his shoulders to push at the dresser with all his strength.
He heard Alex's cry of surprise and stood as his make-shift battering ram tipped forward. Then, before the other man could react, Jarod grabbed Alex by the shirt collar and slammed him into the wooden stair railing.
"Why don't we start that party now?" he growled. "I'm sure Parker won't mind."
TBC
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