Truth Series by Leah
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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
DISCLAIMER: Jarod, Miss Parker, Sydney, Broots and the fictional Centre are property of MTM Entertainment and NBC Productions and used without permission for the sole purpose of entertainment. This is based loosely on a dream I had. A first season story, thus timeline and mild spoilers for the 1st season.
THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH
by Leah
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"I won't stop chasing you, Jarod. I'll catch you and drag you back by the ears."
"Then, you're going to be running for a long time."
"It's you who's running Jarod. You can't beat the Centre."
"Yeah, well my view on the Centre is quite different than the all powerful deity you make it out to be."
"You think you're smart, don't you Jarod.? Well, one day you're going to slip up and I'm going to be right there to catch you." She pushed a button and it began taping the phone call.
"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched. Miss Parker, don't you think this act is a bit obsessive. I know you."
"No, you don't. You don't know me at all."
"Your mother did."
"Are you going to start that again, Jarod? I quit your little games long ago."
"Did you?" Those two words cut into her thoughts and she felt her guard slipping.
"You'll just have to see it to believe it," she hissed.
"Don't you think you better see who's at the door?"
"There's no one at--" BUZZ! The doorbell interrupted her. Another of Jarod's plots. She set the phone down on the desk and went to the door.
"Are you," a delivery man stood at the door, consulting his sheet. "Missy Parker?"
"Miss Parker!" she corrected him. "I assume you have some reason to come knocking at my door at four in the morning."
"It was a rush. Sign here please. There you go."
Miss Parker took the box and returned to the desk. Her frown was deliberating. She opened the box and found, "A hat?" she asked, picking up the phone.
"I hafta be goin' now darling," Jarod said with a Southern accent and a smile in his voice. "I've got some plucking to do."
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THE CENTRE, SUB-LEVEL FIVE
"It's a derby," Sydney said, looking over the black hat, while Miss Parker paced the room impatiently.
Broots watched them nervously.
"Derby?" he asked. "Like the Kentucky Derby?"
Miss Parker quit pacing and fixed a stare on Broots. "And what would you know about that?"
"It's for horses," he mumbled.
"Kentucky," Miss Parker repeated.
"Then, Jarod wasn't talking about plucking feathers." Sydney said. He handed the hat to Broots. "He meant a banjo. A bluegrass band."
Miss Parker shook her head in disbelief. "Kentucky bluegrass. What next?"
She went to Kentucky alone, in her own car, and told Sydney and Broots she'd contact them when she wanted a Sweeper team. She had an inkling that this was not a normal one of Jarod's pretends. It had something to do with a puzzle piece of what had happened to her mother.
Miss Parker was driving to Louisville, where the Kentucky Derby was held each year. As she was going through a wooded area, her car suddenly stalled. She tried starting it a few times, but it seemed for mysterious reasons the battery had gone completely dead. She banged the steering wheel with her fist, before searching in her glove compartment for a flashlight. The evening was already growing dark. It wasn't there. She got out of the car planning to walk down the road in order to reach the nearest town.
She hadn't been walking five minutes, when the beam of a flashlight blinded her and a familiar voice said, "Hiking's always a lot easier without high heels."
"Jarod!" she gasped in surprise. In the same moment, she pulled out her gun and aimed it at him.
"You came alone," he observed.
Miss Parker, anxious to know why he had marooned her here, answered impatiently, "Not quite." She nodded towards the gun in her hands.
He was seemed unperturbed by her threat. "Then, perhaps you're more interested in your mother and your past than even you knew."
"You stole my flashlight," she answered, trying not to think about his question and still refusing to lower her aim.
"Aren't you're arms getting tired?" he asked, lightly.
"Don't test me, Jarod. I bet my car's perfectly alright. How'd you find time to...Wait, I know. When I dropped it at the Auto Shop across from Grandpa's Diner during lunch. Very clever," she smiled with the exuberance of her capture. "But not clever enough. This time there's no hurricanes, no security teams, no jail cells to protect you. I'm taking you in."
Jarod pulled a remote control from his jacket pocket. "With the computer systems in cars these days it was a simple matter to hook up to the battery a remote on and off switch, so to speak."
Miss Parker moved the gun into her right hand. "Toss it to me," she ordered. Jarod did toss it but at the same time he threw the flashlight at her head and she had to dodge out of the way. When she found the flashlight and remote, Jarod was well hidden.
"If you want to continue this pleasant chat," he called from somewhere in the darkness. "Shine your flashlight to the left."
She did. It illuminated an abandoned house and alongside it was a ramshackle garage.
"Leave your car there," Jarod's voice instructed. "You see, I wouldn't want your car to be a source of a leak. Then, look in the bushes to your right, up the road about a mile. You'll find what you need to get to town and grab a bite to eat. I've heard a full stomach improves your disposition. Bye."
"Jarod!" Miss Parker called, indignantly. "Jarod!"
Miss Parker drove into town in a red jeep Jarod had left for her. She checked into a hotel for the night. The next morning, she asked the hotel clerk if he knew of any good eating places. His response was, "Are you Miss Parker?"
Her eyes narrowed and she asked, guardedly, "Who wants to know?"
"Nothing particular. Only a man was in here two days ago and said his cousin was coming here for the derby. You fit the description."
The serious expression never left her face as she nodded, "Yes, I'm Miss Parker." So Jarod had even expected her to come this far. He had known what she would do. Even where she would stay. The thought maddened her. "I should have shot him when I had the chance," she whispered to herself. But something whispered in the back of the mind that her statement was untrue. She ignored the whisper and looked at the clerk.
"I think he left you something," the clerk continued.
Miss Parker quickly manufactured a smile and put it on. "How thoughtful!" she said, sharply as she took the envelope Jarod had left her.
She walked outside to the jeep, ripping the envelope open and reading the words, "Hungry for answers. JJ's Restaurant. #4 Junction, Wooded lane."
A few hours later, Miss Parker pulled out the note again to double check. She got out of the jeep and looked around. Here was the wooded lane. All she could see were green cow pastures stretching on either side of the road. Had Jarod finally lost his mind? Then, she heard it. Someone was whistling a chipper tune behind that sparse section of trees. The smells of a barbecue wafted over to her.
Miss Parker went over to investigate. She spotted Jarod, in chef's hat and apron, operating a huge grill and whistling. Picnickers were scattered throughout the woods and fields. She walked into view and went up to Jarod.
He smiled broadly at her dismay and said, "You're right on time." He began whistling the tune "Pop Goes the Weasel." Then, he stopped and said, "You know it's amazing, by blowing air through your lips you can make music. I've been practicing that one especially for you. Fitting, don't you think?"
Miss Parker rolled her eyes. "So fitting I forgot to laugh." she replied with annoyance. "Is this what you meant by JJ's restaurant?" she asked, surveying the grill.
"Jarod Johnson. That's me for now." And he began whistling again.
"I thought you were going to answer some questions."
Jarod took off his apron and hat. He tossed them to a nearby picnicker. "Could you do me a favor, Will. Take care of the steaks for while."
"Sure thing, Jarod."
Jarod sat down at an empty picnic table and Miss Parker took a seat, too. She didn't look at him. "About those rescued children, Jarod. Broots found out they've all been dying or going into mysterious comas."
"I know," Jarod said, speculating. "I tried to help once, but I was too late. I got you here to make you a deal."
"I'm not going to jeopardize my relationship with the Centre to play along with one of your games, Jarod. I was hired to bring you back and I will."
"Maybe you will and maybe you won't," Jarod said. "At any rate, you'll never find out for certain what happened to your mother if I'm locked up for the next thirty years. And not knowing about your mother....it gets to you. Think about it."
Miss Parker pulled a cigarette pack from her pocket, but Jarod snatched it away from her, stood up, and tossed it into a bon fire. It shriveled and blackened as the flames engulfed it.
He handed her a pitcher of lemonade and a glass.
"I need you thinking clearly--no smoke on the brain." Jarod said. He went over to some of his bluegrass buddies and they put on an impromptu show. Jarod strummed on the banjo like a pro. When the show ended, Jarod returned to the picnic table.
Miss Parker sighed and then said, slowly, "Jarod, I want you help me find out what happened to my mother."
Jarod looked solemn. He took out a pez canister and popped a piece of candy into his mouth before responding, "Fine. Then, here's the deal. You help me find out where my mother is without exposing my family to the Centre."
"Jarod! I can't do that. I can't lie to the Centre."
"You already have. You didn't kill Jacob. And though you hate to admit it, there's some good behind that icy wall. You're father hasn't managed to kill all the things your mother taught you."
Miss Parker lowered her voice to a threatening whisper, "You leave my father out of this."
"How long do you think you can keep this up?" Jarod asked. "Wondering, guessing, but never knowing for sure. It eats away at you slowly, day by day. The endless suspense."
"Alright! It's a deal!" Miss Parker gasped, angrily. She was shocked she was even agreeing to such a scheme. But, she had seen Jarod work wonders and lately the matter of her mother's murder had been weighing greatly on her mind. "But how do you know I won't double cross you, Jarod?" she grinned, malevolently.
"Because I trust the good in you."
"It's too late, Jarod. You won't reform me with one of your speeches."
Jarod looked at her with a knowing smile. "Then, I trust you want to know the truth about your mother just as much as I do."
Miss Parker fidgeted with the glass of lemonade and stood up. "People who trust wind up the losers. I'm going back to the Centre and I'm going to get you what you want. And you better give me what I want or else..." She turned and began to walk away.
"Thank you," Jarod called after her.
She wheeled about and came back to face him. "For what?"
"For the warning, about Raines' Sweepers....when I saw my mother. I think it taught you something."
"And what's that?" Miss Parker asked in disgust.
"That you still have a heart." Then, Jarod turned back to the large grill and began turning steaks.
Some of the anger went out of Miss Parker's eyes as she turned back towards the road. So she was helping the Centre catch Jarod and she was helping Jarod find his mother in return for the truth about her own. It didn't make sense. But then nothing involving Jarod ever did.
THE END?
Read the sequel:
by Leah
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I won't stop chasing you, Jarod. I'll catch you and drag you back by the ears."
"Then, you're going to be running for a long time."
"It's you who's running Jarod. You can't beat the Centre."
"Yeah, well my view on the Centre is quite different than the all powerful deity you make it out to be."
"You think you're smart, don't you Jarod.? Well, one day you're going to slip up and I'm going to be right there to catch you." She pushed a button and it began taping the phone call.
"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched. Miss Parker, don't you think this act is a bit obsessive. I know you."
"No, you don't. You don't know me at all."
"Your mother did."
"Are you going to start that again, Jarod? I quit your little games long ago."
"Did you?" Those two words cut into her thoughts and she felt her guard slipping.
"You'll just have to see it to believe it," she hissed.
"Don't you think you better see who's at the door?"
"There's no one at--" BUZZ! The doorbell interrupted her. Another of Jarod's plots. She set the phone down on the desk and went to the door.
"Are you," a delivery man stood at the door, consulting his sheet. "Missy Parker?"
"Miss Parker!" she corrected him. "I assume you have some reason to come knocking at my door at four in the morning."
"It was a rush. Sign here please. There you go."
Miss Parker took the box and returned to the desk. Her frown was deliberating. She opened the box and found, "A hat?" she asked, picking up the phone.
"I hafta be goin' now darling," Jarod said with a Southern accent and a smile in his voice. "I've got some plucking to do."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE CENTRE, SUB-LEVEL FIVE
"It's a derby," Sydney said, looking over the black hat, while Miss Parker paced the room impatiently.
Broots watched them nervously.
"Derby?" he asked. "Like the Kentucky Derby?"
Miss Parker quit pacing and fixed a stare on Broots. "And what would you know about that?"
"It's for horses," he mumbled.
"Kentucky," Miss Parker repeated.
"Then, Jarod wasn't talking about plucking feathers." Sydney said. He handed the hat to Broots. "He meant a banjo. A bluegrass band."
Miss Parker shook her head in disbelief. "Kentucky bluegrass. What next?"
She went to Kentucky alone, in her own car, and told Sydney and Broots she'd contact them when she wanted a Sweeper team. She had an inkling that this was not a normal one of Jarod's pretends. It had something to do with a puzzle piece of what had happened to her mother.
Miss Parker was driving to Louisville, where the Kentucky Derby was held each year. As she was going through a wooded area, her car suddenly stalled. She tried starting it a few times, but it seemed for mysterious reasons the battery had gone completely dead. She banged the steering wheel with her fist, before searching in her glove compartment for a flashlight. The evening was already growing dark. It wasn't there. She got out of the car planning to walk down the road in order to reach the nearest town.
She hadn't been walking five minutes, when the beam of a flashlight blinded her and a familiar voice said, "Hiking's always a lot easier without high heels."
"Jarod!" she gasped in surprise. In the same moment, she pulled out her gun and aimed it at him.
"You came alone," he observed.
Miss Parker, anxious to know why he had marooned her here, answered impatiently, "Not quite." She nodded towards the gun in her hands.
He was seemed unperturbed by her threat. "Then, perhaps you're more interested in your mother and your past than even you knew."
"You stole my flashlight," she answered, trying not to think about his question and still refusing to lower her aim.
"Aren't you're arms getting tired?" he asked, lightly.
"Don't test me, Jarod. I bet my car's perfectly alright. How'd you find time to...Wait, I know. When I dropped it at the Auto Shop across from Grandpa's Diner during lunch. Very clever," she smiled with the exuberance of her capture. "But not clever enough. This time there's no hurricanes, no security teams, no jail cells to protect you. I'm taking you in."
Jarod pulled a remote control from his jacket pocket. "With the computer systems in cars these days it was a simple matter to hook up to the battery a remote on and off switch, so to speak."
Miss Parker moved the gun into her right hand. "Toss it to me," she ordered. Jarod did toss it but at the same time he threw the flashlight at her head and she had to dodge out of the way. When she found the flashlight and remote, Jarod was well hidden.
"If you want to continue this pleasant chat," he called from somewhere in the darkness. "Shine your flashlight to the left."
She did. It illuminated an abandoned house and alongside it was a ramshackle garage.
"Leave your car there," Jarod's voice instructed. "You see, I wouldn't want your car to be a source of a leak. Then, look in the bushes to your right, up the road about a mile. You'll find what you need to get to town and grab a bite to eat. I've heard a full stomach improves your disposition. Bye."
"Jarod!" Miss Parker called, indignantly. "Jarod!"
Miss Parker drove into town in a red jeep Jarod had left for her. She checked into a hotel for the night. The next morning, she asked the hotel clerk if he knew of any good eating places. His response was, "Are you Miss Parker?"
Her eyes narrowed and she asked, guardedly, "Who wants to know?"
"Nothing particular. Only a man was in here two days ago and said his cousin was coming here for the derby. You fit the description."
The serious expression never left her face as she nodded, "Yes, I'm Miss Parker." So Jarod had even expected her to come this far. He had known what she would do. Even where she would stay. The thought maddened her. "I should have shot him when I had the chance," she whispered to herself. But something whispered in the back of the mind that her statement was untrue. She ignored the whisper and looked at the clerk.
"I think he left you something," the clerk continued.
Miss Parker quickly manufactured a smile and put it on. "How thoughtful!" she said, sharply as she took the envelope Jarod had left her.
She walked outside to the jeep, ripping the envelope open and reading the words, "Hungry for answers. JJ's Restaurant. #4 Junction, Wooded lane."
A few hours later, Miss Parker pulled out the note again to double check. She got out of the jeep and looked around. Here was the wooded lane. All she could see were green cow pastures stretching on either side of the road. Had Jarod finally lost his mind? Then, she heard it. Someone was whistling a chipper tune behind that sparse section of trees. The smells of a barbecue wafted over to her.
Miss Parker went over to investigate. She spotted Jarod, in chef's hat and apron, operating a huge grill and whistling. Picnickers were scattered throughout the woods and fields. She walked into view and went up to Jarod.
He smiled broadly at her dismay and said, "You're right on time." He began whistling the tune "Pop Goes the Weasel." Then, he stopped and said, "You know it's amazing, by blowing air through your lips you can make music. I've been practicing that one especially for you. Fitting, don't you think?"
Miss Parker rolled her eyes. "So fitting I forgot to laugh." she replied with annoyance. "Is this what you meant by JJ's restaurant?" she asked, surveying the grill.
"Jarod Johnson. That's me for now." And he began whistling again.
"I thought you were going to answer some questions."
Jarod took off his apron and hat. He tossed them to a nearby picnicker. "Could you do me a favor, Will. Take care of the steaks for while."
"Sure thing, Jarod."
Jarod sat down at an empty picnic table and Miss Parker took a seat, too. She didn't look at him. "About those rescued children, Jarod. Broots found out they've all been dying or going into mysterious comas."
"I know," Jarod said, speculating. "I tried to help once, but I was too late. I got you here to make you a deal."
"I'm not going to jeopardize my relationship with the Centre to play along with one of your games, Jarod. I was hired to bring you back and I will."
"Maybe you will and maybe you won't," Jarod said. "At any rate, you'll never find out for certain what happened to your mother if I'm locked up for the next thirty years. And not knowing about your mother....it gets to you. Think about it."
Miss Parker pulled a cigarette pack from her pocket, but Jarod snatched it away from her, stood up, and tossed it into a bon fire. It shriveled and blackened as the flames engulfed it.
He handed her a pitcher of lemonade and a glass.
"I need you thinking clearly--no smoke on the brain." Jarod said. He went over to some of his bluegrass buddies and they put on an impromptu show. Jarod strummed on the banjo like a pro. When the show ended, Jarod returned to the picnic table.
Miss Parker sighed and then said, slowly, "Jarod, I want you help me find out what happened to my mother."
Jarod looked solemn. He took out a pez canister and popped a piece of candy into his mouth before responding, "Fine. Then, here's the deal. You help me find out where my mother is without exposing my family to the Centre."
"Jarod! I can't do that. I can't lie to the Centre."
"You already have. You didn't kill Jacob. And though you hate to admit it, there's some good behind that icy wall. You're father hasn't managed to kill all the things your mother taught you."
Miss Parker lowered her voice to a threatening whisper, "You leave my father out of this."
"How long do you think you can keep this up?" Jarod asked. "Wondering, guessing, but never knowing for sure. It eats away at you slowly, day by day. The endless suspense."
"Alright! It's a deal!" Miss Parker gasped, angrily. She was shocked she was even agreeing to such a scheme. But, she had seen Jarod work wonders and lately the matter of her mother's murder had been weighing greatly on her mind. "But how do you know I won't double cross you, Jarod?" she grinned, malevolently.
"Because I trust the good in you."
"It's too late, Jarod. You won't reform me with one of your speeches."
Jarod looked at her with a knowing smile. "Then, I trust you want to know the truth about your mother just as much as I do."
Miss Parker fidgeted with the glass of lemonade and stood up. "People who trust wind up the losers. I'm going back to the Centre and I'm going to get you what you want. And you better give me what I want or else..." She turned and began to walk away.
"Thank you," Jarod called after her.
She wheeled about and came back to face him. "For what?"
"For the warning, about Raines' Sweepers....when I saw my mother. I think it taught you something."
"And what's that?" Miss Parker asked in disgust.
"That you still have a heart." Then, Jarod turned back to the large grill and began turning steaks.
Some of the anger went out of Miss Parker's eyes as she turned back towards the road. So she was helping the Centre catch Jarod and she was helping Jarod find his mother in return for the truth about her own. It didn't make sense. But then nothing involving Jarod ever did.
THE END?
Read the sequel:
