Hell To Pay by Trish
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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
Song : If I'm Not In Love by Constant Change sung by Faith Hill
Hell To Pay
part X
by Trisha
Parker wrapped the leather coat around her, as she walked back to Jarod's apartment. She had left him in good hands, with Detective Martin on duty and Nicholas staying with him for the next few days, she didn't need to worry. What she really did need to do though is make an appearance at the Centre and report that the leads that she followed regarding the Major and boy had been dead ends.
The funny thing about this whole situation, she thought, as she inserted the key into the lock was that instead of taking him back, she was protecting him. Why, seemed to rattle around in her head. He drove her crazy, the innuendoes, the half truths, the smug cocky attitude, so why in the world did she care. She wasn't going to go down that road, as she tossed her coat across the chair, then her eyes fell on the red notebook that she first found when she visited this place.
Newspaper clippings regarding Thomas's death, the arrest of the drug addict accused of killing him, the report from the morgue, and finally the accident report that killed the detective that was working the case. She knew that the addict arrested has been given a rather high grade drug and it was only available with connections. Jarod, himself, told her about the drug, after conducting the autopsy. He fed her small snippets, which irked her to no end, but when she found the body stuffed in the truck of the car, all loyalty to the Centre had evaporated.
What was it she told Jarod over the phone, "I'll go on with my life, pretend nothing has happened and then when they least expect it I will get my revenge?" The last page he had filled in was a series of letters and numbers, vaguely familiar to that used by the Centre. He must have uncovered something, and planned on leaving a trail of crumbs. Sometimes she felt like Gretel, hoping that the birds didn't peck at the crumbs before she was able to gather them up. Copying the last page on a sheet of paper, Parker figured that perhaps Broots could run them through the centre's mainframe. This time, she had all the crumbs.
Taking the dsa case and all of Jarod's notes, she stored them in his duffel bag and placed then in the back of the closet, hopefully out of Nicholas' sight. It just wouldn't do for him to find these, not yet anyway. Heading up to the loft, she peeled the clothes off her body, dropping them as she entered the bathroom. A warm shower, a few hours sleep, then she would drop the key and address off at the hospital, check on Jarod's condition then return to the cesspool.
************************************************
CENTRE
Broots ran the search, again. How in the hell could one man just disappear? He walked into a motel office, booked a room then vanished. Not a trace. He had to be missing something, some tiny detail that was so minute that no one gave it a second thought.
Picking up the file on Wayne Carter, Broots reviewed the information, regarding this man's history. Married, a widower of ten years, when his wife was killed by a drunk driver, he raised his daughter in the small town and made a good living as the owner of the local cider mill and bottled water plant. He enjoyed the outdoors, camping, fishing and, wait a minute, there, how the hell did they miss that, Carter's brother. He lived in North Carolina, and was a member of the local Militia, damn, Broots thought. That lead in Rochester was nothing but goose fodder for the police. Carter was heading down south, and Miss Parker was right, he had every intention to come back up north. Perhaps not to finish off Jarod but to seek retribution for his daughter's death against Frank Cavell. God, there would be hell to pay, as far as she was concerned. Securing the information in his computer with a separate pass word, a voice in front of him startled him.
"Any word from my sister?"
"Aaaaa, Mr. Lyle. She's due back late tonight. Sydney talked to her earlier."
"So why the hell didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because Miss Parker had nothing to tell you, Lyle," the voice from behind Broots said, coolly.
"Until the triumvirate says otherwise, I'm still in charge. Next time you talk to her, tell her, she answers to me," he turned and walked away.
"No gentlemen, she answers to me," a voice emerged from the shadows, that belonging to Mr. Cox. He stared at the men, his blue eyes piercing them with a cold-hearted stare, his gloved hands fisted together," As soon as she returns. Her last name maybe Parker, but she still answers to the triumvirate, and at the moment, that's me." Mr. Cox left them to wonder and worry.
"She's right, Syd. He's the grim reaper. You had better ..." Broots stopped himself, as Syd shook his head.
"Not here, Broots, not here."
*********************************
Wrapping Jarod's robe around her, she settled herself on the bed, intent on sleeping for at least a good four hours. She was exhausted, yet echoing in her mind were the words that she didn't want to acknowledge. "Love you, he had said. Not once, but twice and the second time, he said her name. Don't go there, Parker. She chided herself. That would be like opening the floodgates on the dam, not a very good idea. For heaven sakes this was Jarod. Reaching for the CD player's remote, she hit the play button. She needed to unwind, and there was no liquor in the place, so perhaps some music to relax too. Closing her eyes, she pulled the comforter up around her, nestling her head in the pillow when the gentle strains of the keyboard accompanied by soft vocals filled the room.
If I'm not in love with you
What is this I'm going through, tonight
And if this heart is lying then
What should I believe in
Every time I think about you baby
Why else do I want you like I do
If I'm not in love with you
And if I don't need your touch
Why do I miss you so much, tonight
If it's just infatuation
Why is my heart achin'
To hold you forever
Give a part of me I thought I'd never
Give again to someone I could lose
If I'm not in love with you
Oh why in every fantasy
Do I feel your arms embracing me
Like lovers lost in sweet desire
And why in dreams do I surrender
Like a little baby
How do I explain this feeling
Someone tell me
If I'm not in love with you
What is this I'm going though, tonight
And if this heart is lying then
What should I believe in
Why do I go crazy
Every time I think about you baby
Why else do I want you like I do
If I'm no in love with you
She hugged the pillow, tightly as she slipped in to a dream filled sleep.
Feedback please ! Ractrish@aol.com
Song : If I'm Not In Love by Constant Change sung by Faith Hill
part X
by Trisha
Parker wrapped the leather coat around her, as she walked back to Jarod's apartment. She had left him in good hands, with Detective Martin on duty and Nicholas staying with him for the next few days, she didn't need to worry. What she really did need to do though is make an appearance at the Centre and report that the leads that she followed regarding the Major and boy had been dead ends.
The funny thing about this whole situation, she thought, as she inserted the key into the lock was that instead of taking him back, she was protecting him. Why, seemed to rattle around in her head. He drove her crazy, the innuendoes, the half truths, the smug cocky attitude, so why in the world did she care. She wasn't going to go down that road, as she tossed her coat across the chair, then her eyes fell on the red notebook that she first found when she visited this place.
Newspaper clippings regarding Thomas's death, the arrest of the drug addict accused of killing him, the report from the morgue, and finally the accident report that killed the detective that was working the case. She knew that the addict arrested has been given a rather high grade drug and it was only available with connections. Jarod, himself, told her about the drug, after conducting the autopsy. He fed her small snippets, which irked her to no end, but when she found the body stuffed in the truck of the car, all loyalty to the Centre had evaporated.
What was it she told Jarod over the phone, "I'll go on with my life, pretend nothing has happened and then when they least expect it I will get my revenge?" The last page he had filled in was a series of letters and numbers, vaguely familiar to that used by the Centre. He must have uncovered something, and planned on leaving a trail of crumbs. Sometimes she felt like Gretel, hoping that the birds didn't peck at the crumbs before she was able to gather them up. Copying the last page on a sheet of paper, Parker figured that perhaps Broots could run them through the centre's mainframe. This time, she had all the crumbs.
Taking the dsa case and all of Jarod's notes, she stored them in his duffel bag and placed then in the back of the closet, hopefully out of Nicholas' sight. It just wouldn't do for him to find these, not yet anyway. Heading up to the loft, she peeled the clothes off her body, dropping them as she entered the bathroom. A warm shower, a few hours sleep, then she would drop the key and address off at the hospital, check on Jarod's condition then return to the cesspool.
************************************************
CENTRE
Broots ran the search, again. How in the hell could one man just disappear? He walked into a motel office, booked a room then vanished. Not a trace. He had to be missing something, some tiny detail that was so minute that no one gave it a second thought.
Picking up the file on Wayne Carter, Broots reviewed the information, regarding this man's history. Married, a widower of ten years, when his wife was killed by a drunk driver, he raised his daughter in the small town and made a good living as the owner of the local cider mill and bottled water plant. He enjoyed the outdoors, camping, fishing and, wait a minute, there, how the hell did they miss that, Carter's brother. He lived in North Carolina, and was a member of the local Militia, damn, Broots thought. That lead in Rochester was nothing but goose fodder for the police. Carter was heading down south, and Miss Parker was right, he had every intention to come back up north. Perhaps not to finish off Jarod but to seek retribution for his daughter's death against Frank Cavell. God, there would be hell to pay, as far as she was concerned. Securing the information in his computer with a separate pass word, a voice in front of him startled him.
"Any word from my sister?"
"Aaaaa, Mr. Lyle. She's due back late tonight. Sydney talked to her earlier."
"So why the hell didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because Miss Parker had nothing to tell you, Lyle," the voice from behind Broots said, coolly.
"Until the triumvirate says otherwise, I'm still in charge. Next time you talk to her, tell her, she answers to me," he turned and walked away.
"No gentlemen, she answers to me," a voice emerged from the shadows, that belonging to Mr. Cox. He stared at the men, his blue eyes piercing them with a cold-hearted stare, his gloved hands fisted together," As soon as she returns. Her last name maybe Parker, but she still answers to the triumvirate, and at the moment, that's me." Mr. Cox left them to wonder and worry.
"She's right, Syd. He's the grim reaper. You had better ..." Broots stopped himself, as Syd shook his head.
"Not here, Broots, not here."
*********************************
Wrapping Jarod's robe around her, she settled herself on the bed, intent on sleeping for at least a good four hours. She was exhausted, yet echoing in her mind were the words that she didn't want to acknowledge. "Love you, he had said. Not once, but twice and the second time, he said her name. Don't go there, Parker. She chided herself. That would be like opening the floodgates on the dam, not a very good idea. For heaven sakes this was Jarod. Reaching for the CD player's remote, she hit the play button. She needed to unwind, and there was no liquor in the place, so perhaps some music to relax too. Closing her eyes, she pulled the comforter up around her, nestling her head in the pillow when the gentle strains of the keyboard accompanied by soft vocals filled the room.
If I'm not in love with you
What is this I'm going through, tonight
And if this heart is lying then
What should I believe in
Every time I think about you baby
Why else do I want you like I do
If I'm not in love with you
And if I don't need your touch
Why do I miss you so much, tonight
If it's just infatuation
Why is my heart achin'
To hold you forever
Give a part of me I thought I'd never
Give again to someone I could lose
If I'm not in love with you
Oh why in every fantasy
Do I feel your arms embracing me
Like lovers lost in sweet desire
And why in dreams do I surrender
Like a little baby
How do I explain this feeling
Someone tell me
If I'm not in love with you
What is this I'm going though, tonight
And if this heart is lying then
What should I believe in
Why do I go crazy
Every time I think about you baby
Why else do I want you like I do
If I'm no in love with you
She hugged the pillow, tightly as she slipped in to a dream filled sleep.
Feedback please ! Ractrish@aol.com
