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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
The Winds of Change
Chapter 4 (rating PG-13, Violence, Adult Situations)
Parker, Arizona
August 8, 1997 0700 PST
The helicopter was undoubtedly intended to create the most awe on impact. Perhaps it was also used
to provide the best field of vision while making the entrance. Maybe it was just fast. In any case, Ted
was not impressed by the show. The Bell B-Model helicopter came in low and fast. The pilot,
obviously ex-military, slid the helicopter quickly into the center of the small tarmac surrounding the
airplane hanger. It seemed as if Jarod’s friends had arrived. Ted wondered if he’d ever see this airstrip
again.
The skids of the helicopter barely touched the asphalt tarmac when three well-dressed spooks jumped
out of the helicopter. The tallest one, a stunning brunette in form fitting rayon business suit with an
incredibly short skirt and ridiculously high heels strode to him oblivious to the whirling main rotor merely
two feet above her head. She obviously traveled by helicopter often and the micro-skirt showed no
promise of blowing up any higher in the rotor wash. Too damn tight, Ted chuckled. Maybe that’s why
she wore the thing. If she was FBI, he just might re-consider Bureau’s standing offer.
“Where is he?” Her husky threat of a voice sliced through the roar of the decelerating rotor system.
Behind her, two linebackers in Brooks Brothers suits were fanning out and establishing fields of fire.
They were very professional, too professional for the FBI. As the rotor slowed to an idle, an older
gentleman and a scrawny nemish of a man let themselves out of the helicopter. The older guy was
packing, although beneath the tweed suit jacket. The little geek was unarmed.
Xena was on him in a flash. “Are you deaf or mute? Let’s find out.” She reached down with the speed
of a panther and grabbed Ted’s crotch. No stranger to pain, the merciless twist coupled with the
complete shock at the encounter caused him to yelp. “Oh, just deaf.”
Trying to maintain some level of dignity Ted stepped back, more slowly than he would have liked.
“Jesus, bitch, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Where is Jarod?” The 10mm SIG Sauer pointed to his head convinced Ted that she would rather
shoot him and look herself, but she felt obliged to ask.
“Gone, damn it, he left about two days ago. He said you’d be coming, ya know.” By now the older
fellow had come up behind the Amazon interrogating him.
“Miss Parker, your condition.” The look ‘Miss Parker’ gave the old guy with the Belgian accent
convinced Ted he either had a death wish or balls of steel.
“Shut up, Syd. Broots,” the balding man involuntarily jumped at the sound of her mentioning his name.
Apparently he dealt with her on a day-to-day basis. “Go find this pencil-dick’s computer and do your
thing.” The little guy darted off towards Ted’s office.
Ted turned to tell him to wait but any chance he had was quelled by Miss Parker. The aikido move she
threw put him flat on his back, gasping for breath. What the hell was this woman on?
“I’m not done with you yet, little man. Tell me what you and Jarod were playing this week.”
Ted related to her the basic details about Jarod’s stay and the jumps. He left out a lot of the details,
figuring she would never know what he did or didn’t say. As long as he stuck to the basics he knew
he’d survive. The old man would see to that. Fifteen minutes later, Broots came out with a printout
from Ted’s computer. It was the jump log and bookings list for the last twelve months.
“Miss Parker!”
“Yes.” The cold hatred in her voice made Ted more respectful of this Broots. He was a strong man to
continue to accept this abuse and continue to help her.
“I, ah, found this. Um, well, that’s pretty much all there is in his machine. Except the really cool
Victoria’s Secret screen saver…”
“Broots, what would Delilah think?” Broots shied from her mocking retort. Help her? Ted wasn’t so
sure any more. There was other information in that computer. Jarod had left it intentionally. The game
was getting more interesting by the minute. “Syd, look at this. Jarod Dorothy rented the plane for one
month starting on July 9 for unlimited jumps. Seems like your little nature boy wanted to get high.”
“Yeah,” Ted volunteered, getting braver now that he basically understood the situation. “We jumped
100 times over twenty nine days. He still has one day’s rental left and he told me to take you up.
Wanna jump, Miss Parker?” This time, he was ready. He dodged the straight fist to his solar plexus
easily as he guided her fist past him giving him an open shot to her kidneys. He took it.
Before Miss Parker hit the ground in obvious, sudden pain, the two linebackers were on him. Two on
one wasn’t very good odds. Before either could lay a hand on him they were lying on the ground,
unconscious. “You must be Sydney,” he said to the older man, extending his hand in greeting.
Sydney had taken one step back and Broots cringed from his hand. “Yes, I am,” Sydney replied,
steadying himself. His firm grip was a surprise to Ted; most Europeans shook hands like girls. Ted was
safely back in the driver’s seat.
“I have something for you.” Ted turned and went into his room to retrieve the briefcase.
When he returned with the briefcase, Miss Parker was standing, dusting the Arizona landscape off the
expensive suit. She lit a cigarette and began to puff on it as if she was competing with something. “I can
get some ice for you to chew on or something.” Ted couldn’t resist the jab. She glared at him as if he
was the anti-Christ. He couldn’t help laughing out loud. Jarod had certainly pegged this one.
“Jarod told me to give you this. He said that you should be able to figure out the combination easily
enough. Anyway, he’s long gone now.” Ted was comfortable again. He didn’t understand Jarod. He
understood these people.
“How did he leave?” Sydney asked, taking the briefcase from him.
“He jumped about ten miles north of Flagstaff. I flew him out there and he jumped. I don’t know
where he went after that. In case you care, he didn’t leave anything in his trailer, either.”
Miss Parker immediately perked up at the prospect of dismantling the trailer but Sydney, re-establishing
a dominance he rarely exercised but always maintained, stopped her. “Miss Parker, we won’t learn
anything else here. Jarod knew we were approaching and we are better served to depart now to study
this briefcase.” Her lack of argument was acceptance enough and Sydney turned to leave.
The helicopter started its main rotor again and Miss Parker prodded her two goons back to life. They
all turned to leave.
“Oh yeah, Miss Parker,” despite Ted’s yelling after her, Miss Parker did not turn to respond. Clearly
she was not interested in anything he had to say. Ted had to come up behind her to be heard over the
rotor wash. “Jarod told me to ask to see your scar.”
Miss Parker struck like a cobra. Ted had been expecting the reflexive slap but he could never have
anticipated the speed of the attack. She caught him clean across the cheekbone and caused the big man
to stagger. Despite the trickle of blood he could feel running down his face, he chuckled to himself. He
was in love.
*****
“Randy, give me the radio.” Miss Parker re-established any loss of dignity within seconds of take-off.
There was no way any man would make a fool of her; let alone that cactus humping cowboy. She
didn’t care if he was damn cute and had the others not been there she didn’t know where the encounter
would have gone. The loss of face in front of her men was unacceptable to a Parker.
“Dispatch. The target area is hot. Erase that grease spot. Eliminate all alpha and bravo targets on the
range. Repeat, all alpha and bravo targets on the range. My command, authentication Jaguar. Out.”
Let the testosterone loaded macho freak deal with that. She popped another cigarette into her mouth.
*****
Ted had fortunately opened the briefcase before Jarod’s friends arrived. Inside he found two notes
from Jarod. One was addressed to him, immediately making Ted feel both guilty and vindicated for
opening the case, and the second had been addressed to Sydney. Also in the case were Ted’s football
game, a red notebook, three travel brochures and a bottle of pills. Rifling though the notebook, Ted
had found a New York Times clipping from 1968 showing the devastation caused by Hurricane
Camille, an article on El Nino and another on global warming. Ted still wasn’t convinced of Jarod’s
claim to be a meteorologist, but he could find no other explanation for the articles.
The note Jarod had left told Ted to clean out all of his important equipment and move to another
location. Unable to resist the temptation of the confrontation, Ted had humped everything of value into
the hills and left enough stuff to survive in his plane. He told his pilot, Dave, the school was closing and
hooked him up with another jump school in Texas, at Jarod’s prompting. Ted figured with the program
Jarod had given him for playing the stock market, he didn’t need the jump school anymore, so he
decided a simple plane crash would eliminate any problems with Jarod’s friends. Ted had the contacts
in Vegas and the $25,000 from Jarod to get himself lost.
As the small plane lifted off the runway Ted began to realize the small miscalculation he had made. He
began to regret not listening to Jarod. The unmistakable silhouette of two flat black F/A 18 Hornets
were coming directly at him, low and fast. They came loaded for bear and Ted couldn’t bring himself to
believe they were outside their operations area. China Lake was nowhere near this place. He set the
autopilot on a steady climb and raced to the back of the plane for his parachute. He knew he stood a
much better chance on the ground.
******
“Dispatch to Parker, over.” The smooth, feminine voice coming over the radio brought a smile to Miss
Parker’s face.
“This is Parker.”
“Mission complete. Alpha and bravo targets eliminated.”
“Excellent,” she hissed. “Out.” She turned towards Sydney who had watched in horror as she had
wiped out a man’s life because he dared to oppose her. Was she that far gone?
“That’s the way I like it.” The toothy, sadistic smile she gave him told Sydney the answer to that
question.
Broots shivered.
*****
Springdale, Arkansas
August 8, 1997, 0900 CST
Jarod, not normally a breakfast eater, sat back and surveyed the damage. Two hot-cakes, four fried
eggs (one sunny side up, one over easy, one over medium and one over hard – he decided he liked
over easy best), three slices of toast, grits and a healthy portion of ‘home-fries’ completed his first
Southern country breakfast. Everyone at the table was impressed. Jarod was actually full. Perhaps this
feeling was what they called stuffed. He almost felt like letting his belt out a little but Bridgett’s presence
precluded any such liberty.
“Get enough, darlin’?” Dorothy asked, partially in fun, partially in disbelief. Did that boy ever eat! If
this was his normal breakfast, how did he ever stay so trim? The places this line of thought took her
made her blush.
“Why yes, it was wonderful,” Jarod chimed in, immensely pleased with himself. The questions they had
been asking him for the last few hours were perfunctory at best, but he knew this was just the warm-up.
The real questions would come later. Probably they would come this afternoon. Right now he had
plenty of time to soak in the hospitality and wonder if this was what it felt like to have a home.
Jarod decided, as the meal wore down, that it was time to both establish his place in the hierarchy of the
group and impress Bridgett a little. “Dorothy, don’t forget to take your blood pressure medicine.”
“How – how on earth do you know I am taking high blood pressure medicine?” Dorothy stammered.
Privately she wondered if she was really that fat that he would naturally assume she needed the
medicine. It didn’t matter if he was right or not, damn it.
The blank shock from Bridgett, Jim and Marty was exactly what Jarod had planned on.
“Elementary, my dear Watson” chimed in Kevin. It was Jarod’s turn to show surprise. “Shall I?” he
politely asked Jarod.
Wheeling and more than a little curious, Jarod simply nodded his head.
“Dorothy, our guest has simply noticed your slightly baggy clothing, deliberate reduction of salt added to
the food, longing stare at the salt shaker used by everyone else seated and your clearly measured
portions. All of these things would indicated that you are clearly watching your weight, losing weight –
and you do look very good – and limiting your salt intake. Hence, you must be under doctor’s orders
to do such, and the most logical condition to warrant such precautions is high blood pressure. Did I
miss anything?”
“Only that she looked at her watch to decide if it had been too long after eating for the medicine,
but…,” Jarod let the question hang. He was dumbfounded.
“Keen observation, my friend. I am the Sherlock Holmes of storms and I don’t miss much in the other
aspects of my life either.” Kevin was clearly pleased with himself. The hierarchy of the group had been
set, all right.
Jarod became increasingly defensive. How much more did this guy already know? “Who is Watson?”
Jarod asked, clearly taken aback by Kevin.
“Come now, you know: Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, England, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,” the
blank stare on Jarod’s face told Kevin all he needed to know. “Didn’t you read as a kid, or even as an
adult? Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Sherlock Holmes!”
“Ah, no. I led a pretty sheltered childhood.”
“What, did you grow up on the ‘Dukes of Hazzard?’” Jeff chimed in this time. Sensing the newcomer
was on the ropes, he homed in for the kill.
“What? Ah, no. I didn’t follow the royal family much.”
“No, Bo and Luke Duke? Daisy Duke? The General Lee?” Jarod kept shaking his head, almost in a
state of delirium. Too many names, too fast. General who? “Sheesh. Did you even have a TV?”
This he could answer. “No. I wasn’t allowed to watch TV.” The almost stifling pressure in the room
began to vent. This simple explanation seemed to satisfy them all.
Bridgett thankfully came to his rescue. “Hey, guys, stop picking on him.” Then she turned her angelic
face to Jarod. “Come on, Jarod, let’s walk down to the Seven-Eleven, I need some toothpaste.” Jarod
quickly agreed and they both headed down the street towards the convenience store about three
quarters of a mile down the street.
As they left the two-story home, Jarod was able to make out some of the details hidden by the darkness
last night. Situated on a corner, the house and lot covered the better part of the block. The Victorian
two-story was painted gray, but was in desperate need of a fresh paint job. The garage was a separate
stone building about ten yards from the house and had no doubt been converted from a carriage house
in the twenties. In the back, the stables were still standing along with the small fenced in area which until
recently had housed two horses. Dorothy’s mother had raised horses, but they had sold them after her
death. A dilapidated rusting carriage stood testament to the heritage of the yard.
The house stood in stark contrast to the relatively modern subdivision behind it. In the mid sixties an F-
3 tornado passed through the town demolishing hundreds of homes. Every home surrounding this one
had been destroyed, and yet this monolith had stood the test of nature. Perhaps it’s proximity to the
local Episcopal Church and the frequency of its owner’s attendance guided the tornado to seek another
target. As further testament, the oak tree on the side lawn suffered a lightning strike in 1987, yet the
house stood firm.
As they began to walk down the street, Jarod could feel the fragrance of Bridgett’s presence on him.
Walking with her intoxicated him. He felt as if he could run a marathon in her shadow and scarcely
notice he was winded. The birds sang with an inhuman clarity and Jarod could somehow track the
sway of each blade of grass as they proceeded down the street. For Jarod, the walk took hours to
complete. Despite having to pass both a ‘Total’ and a ‘Conoco’ convenience store, Jarod didn’t mind
one bit. Had he seen another store farther down the road, he would have directed them towards it.
*****
The friendly girl behind the counter welcomed them into the store. Secretly she mused they were here
for something she knew she’d need if that guy was with her. It genuinely disappointed her when they
started looking for toothpaste. She knew she’d find something to brush her teeth with if that dyke with
him would back off. Her fantasy continued as Jarod walked over to the candy aisle.
After a long look up and down the aisle, Jarod spied several small squares wrapped in brightly colored
wax paper. “What are these?” He asked to Jennie, the altogether too eager clerk.
“Laffy Taffy,” she replied, straightening the few straggling hairs from her pony tail.
“Laffy Taffy?” returned Jarod. He baffled was by the name she had used but intrigued by her hair toss.
“Yeah. It’s like taffy in different flavors. It’s good.” Jennie tried to straighten up a bit to accentuate her
ample figure. She wished she’d worn her push-up bra today, but she thought she could compensate
with posture. Maybe he wasn’t with that bull dyke after all.
“Why do they call it ‘Laffy Taffy’?”
“Because there’s jokes written on the wrapper of each one,” called Bridgett from across the store.
Jennie recognized the signal and deflated her chest. Damn, why are all the good ones taken?
“Jokes?” Jarod replied, opening one of the little squares.
“Yeah, and real corny ones, too.” Bridgett returned.
“Hmm,” said Jarod, reading the first wrapper. “Bridgett, what kind of jokes are like popcorn?”
“I don’t know.” Jarod should have seen she was losing her patience.
“The corny ones!” Jarod smiled, quite pleased with himself. Jennie thought to politely laugh in order to
draw Jarod’s attention again, but Bridgett’s look stopped her. This girl was damn possessive. “This is
funny. How many do you have?”
It was Jennie’s turn to be surprised. “Well, what’s there on the shelf and one more case in the back.”
“I’ll take them.”
Bridgett’s look of exasperation gave Jennie a perceived glimpse into this relationship. Quietly she
mused that at heart all guys were the same. No matter how big they were, they were just bigger kids.
Maybe her boyfriend wasn’t so bad after all. The nod Bridgett gave her told Jennie that Jarod was
indeed serious and mommy had approved. She retired to the back to get the remaining inventory of
taffy.
Jennie believed Jarod’s count of 4365 taffy squares and rang up the total. He insisted on paying for
Bridgett’s toothpaste and the total came out to $235.58 which Jarod paid for with three one-hundred
dollar bills. Jennie had never seen that much money in one place at one time. Jarod had more money in
his wallet than she made in two weeks at this dump. He may be eccentric, but the dude could afford it.
She noted the comical combination of purchases and decided she’d have to call her friend Melissa
immediately to let her know. Mel would never believe this.
*****
Jarod and Bridgett left and headed back to the house. Much to the surprise of everyone on the street,
each of whom watched intently through their windows, the man who had been obviously doting over the
woman next to him was now fully engrossed in the contents of his paper grocery sacks. He kept tearing
open taffy wrappers and devouring the taffy, taking time only to recite the jokes on the underside of the
wrapper to his exasperated companion. The woman was extremely tolerant, the locals noted.
Springdale was a small town, especially the historic district. Everyone knew the woman as the
photographer staying at Maybell’s old place. Maybell had died of a heart-attack about six months ago,
which had been a surprise to everyone. She always walked in the morning and she had been taking her
medication for years. Rumor was her daughter had even started taking medication for her blood
pressure. Maybell was a trim woman who watched every calorie she ate and policed her salt like an
alcoholic at a New Years Party. When she died it had been a shock to the community. Her only
daughter, Dorothy was nice enough though, even if her husband was a storm chaser. Strange couple,
but they were quiet.
The rumors had been flying that Kevin was having an affair with this new girl, but now with this big guy
showing up, most of those rumors would die quickly. This was obviously her boyfriend. Cute enough,
they figured. Today it would circulate that he had been polite in refusing the advances of little Jennie
Daniels, who was not such a good girl. Most of the women in town did not let their husbands or sons
into that store unattended while Jennie was there. Anyway, this guy had escaped unscathed. Obviously
he was the boyfriend of that photographer girl. Betty Cornell, who had been inside the Seven-Eleven,
had verified no rings.
*****
When Jarod returned to the house, Kevin had a little surprise waiting for him. “What are these?” Jarod
asked regarding the two thick books on the coffee table.
“They’re for you. That’s the ‘Complete Sherlock Holmes Volumes 1 and 2’ and I do expect you to
read them by tomorrow,” Kevin joked. “I thought you’d like to read them, since you’re now the third
best investigator I’ve met.”
“Third?” Jarod asked with an expression of disbelief.
“Yeah, Sherlock, me then you. Get to work.” Jarod picked up the first book, about 1100 pages. He
should have this finished by supper. “By the way, do you know anything about engines?”
“I was a mechanic once, why?”
“Come on then, let’s get the tractor up and running. We’ve got a lawn to mow.”
“Okay,” Jarod answered. They left to go out to the back workshop to try to restore the 1938 Ford
tractor to a running condition.
*****
After lunch the two of them went back to the shed. Jarod was busy rewinding the starter motor, which
had burned out, while Kevin began to re-machine the choke linkages. The main linkage for the choke
had snapped and the motor flooded, burning up the starter motor when Kevin tried to start it last week.
Parts for the tractor were impossible to find and besides, both Kevin and Jarod took pride in machining
their own parts anyway. Jarod continued to impress Kevin, even though Kevin thought the young guy
tried to show off too much. With age comes patience, Kevin thought. Besides, isn’t it common for the
young buck to test the teacher. Kevin already loved Jarod like a son.
The two women made lemonade for the men that afternoon. Bridgett, who was normally off re-
shingling the roof or replacing the transmission in the truck stuck close by Dorothy. Dorothy beamed
under the light of her attention. Dorothy was eager to help Bridgett out in any way that she could. She
was delighted that finally Bridgett had found someone she was interested in. She was not blind to
Kevin’s feelings for Bridgett but she trusted Kevin. After all these years, she knew him better than he
knew himself. Bridgett was a rather homely looking girl, but beneath that she had a heart of gold and
Dorothy loved her like a daughter. Seeing Jarod and Kevin work together, she couldn’t help fantasizing
about the family she never had. Maybe she would get one after all.
Dorothy had paid special attention to Jarod’s surprise and delight at the lemonade. She doubted he
tasted a single drop as he drank it with Bridgett hovering so close. Bridgett even feigned interest in what
Jarod was doing and listened to a twenty minute lecture on winding a motor, even though Dorothy knew
Bridgett could have done it in her sleep. Bridgett had it for Jarod all right. They were perfect for each
other and Dorothy would be damned if anything would come between them. Jarod positively
worshipped Bridgett’s every move, and Dorothy had only seen that one other time in a man. That man
she had married before he got away.
Although her mother had passed away recently, she was now beginning to feel a little more at home
here. At home, she chuckled to herself; she had grown up in this home. It was still confusing not to
walk into her old bedroom, which Jeff was sleeping in, instead of the master bedroom. A man in her
room; what would mother think! Anyway, mother was with God now, and the hurting was beginning to
heal. She and Kevin were never so happy as they were now. Kevin's run-in with the tornado had
caused impotence. They could never have children of their own. Maybe now they would get to adopt
two….
Bridgett positively glowed when the two of them returned to the kitchen after spending an hour in the
shed. Kevin had made more than one remark to Dorothy indicating his similar line of thinking. Jarod
and Bridgett had been completely unaware of their presence, however. Dorothy was so happy.
Maybe she’d show Bridgett how to make a Rhubarb Crunch this afternoon. She’d been picking up
cooking exceptionally quickly over the last two days. Dorothy had even begun to suspect the joke
she’d made about being a gourmet chief in New York to be the truth. No, silly, she scolded herself,
Bridgett was just a fast learner. The way to a man’s heart was still his stomach and Jarod had proven
himself a prolific eater. Yes, a good crunch would do the trick.
Jarod would like that.
Chapter 4 (rating PG-13, Violence, Adult Situations)
Parker, Arizona
August 8, 1997 0700 PST
The helicopter was undoubtedly intended to create the most awe on impact. Perhaps it was also used
to provide the best field of vision while making the entrance. Maybe it was just fast. In any case, Ted
was not impressed by the show. The Bell B-Model helicopter came in low and fast. The pilot,
obviously ex-military, slid the helicopter quickly into the center of the small tarmac surrounding the
airplane hanger. It seemed as if Jarod’s friends had arrived. Ted wondered if he’d ever see this airstrip
again.
The skids of the helicopter barely touched the asphalt tarmac when three well-dressed spooks jumped
out of the helicopter. The tallest one, a stunning brunette in form fitting rayon business suit with an
incredibly short skirt and ridiculously high heels strode to him oblivious to the whirling main rotor merely
two feet above her head. She obviously traveled by helicopter often and the micro-skirt showed no
promise of blowing up any higher in the rotor wash. Too damn tight, Ted chuckled. Maybe that’s why
she wore the thing. If she was FBI, he just might re-consider Bureau’s standing offer.
“Where is he?” Her husky threat of a voice sliced through the roar of the decelerating rotor system.
Behind her, two linebackers in Brooks Brothers suits were fanning out and establishing fields of fire.
They were very professional, too professional for the FBI. As the rotor slowed to an idle, an older
gentleman and a scrawny nemish of a man let themselves out of the helicopter. The older guy was
packing, although beneath the tweed suit jacket. The little geek was unarmed.
Xena was on him in a flash. “Are you deaf or mute? Let’s find out.” She reached down with the speed
of a panther and grabbed Ted’s crotch. No stranger to pain, the merciless twist coupled with the
complete shock at the encounter caused him to yelp. “Oh, just deaf.”
Trying to maintain some level of dignity Ted stepped back, more slowly than he would have liked.
“Jesus, bitch, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Where is Jarod?” The 10mm SIG Sauer pointed to his head convinced Ted that she would rather
shoot him and look herself, but she felt obliged to ask.
“Gone, damn it, he left about two days ago. He said you’d be coming, ya know.” By now the older
fellow had come up behind the Amazon interrogating him.
“Miss Parker, your condition.” The look ‘Miss Parker’ gave the old guy with the Belgian accent
convinced Ted he either had a death wish or balls of steel.
“Shut up, Syd. Broots,” the balding man involuntarily jumped at the sound of her mentioning his name.
Apparently he dealt with her on a day-to-day basis. “Go find this pencil-dick’s computer and do your
thing.” The little guy darted off towards Ted’s office.
Ted turned to tell him to wait but any chance he had was quelled by Miss Parker. The aikido move she
threw put him flat on his back, gasping for breath. What the hell was this woman on?
“I’m not done with you yet, little man. Tell me what you and Jarod were playing this week.”
Ted related to her the basic details about Jarod’s stay and the jumps. He left out a lot of the details,
figuring she would never know what he did or didn’t say. As long as he stuck to the basics he knew
he’d survive. The old man would see to that. Fifteen minutes later, Broots came out with a printout
from Ted’s computer. It was the jump log and bookings list for the last twelve months.
“Miss Parker!”
“Yes.” The cold hatred in her voice made Ted more respectful of this Broots. He was a strong man to
continue to accept this abuse and continue to help her.
“I, ah, found this. Um, well, that’s pretty much all there is in his machine. Except the really cool
Victoria’s Secret screen saver…”
“Broots, what would Delilah think?” Broots shied from her mocking retort. Help her? Ted wasn’t so
sure any more. There was other information in that computer. Jarod had left it intentionally. The game
was getting more interesting by the minute. “Syd, look at this. Jarod Dorothy rented the plane for one
month starting on July 9 for unlimited jumps. Seems like your little nature boy wanted to get high.”
“Yeah,” Ted volunteered, getting braver now that he basically understood the situation. “We jumped
100 times over twenty nine days. He still has one day’s rental left and he told me to take you up.
Wanna jump, Miss Parker?” This time, he was ready. He dodged the straight fist to his solar plexus
easily as he guided her fist past him giving him an open shot to her kidneys. He took it.
Before Miss Parker hit the ground in obvious, sudden pain, the two linebackers were on him. Two on
one wasn’t very good odds. Before either could lay a hand on him they were lying on the ground,
unconscious. “You must be Sydney,” he said to the older man, extending his hand in greeting.
Sydney had taken one step back and Broots cringed from his hand. “Yes, I am,” Sydney replied,
steadying himself. His firm grip was a surprise to Ted; most Europeans shook hands like girls. Ted was
safely back in the driver’s seat.
“I have something for you.” Ted turned and went into his room to retrieve the briefcase.
When he returned with the briefcase, Miss Parker was standing, dusting the Arizona landscape off the
expensive suit. She lit a cigarette and began to puff on it as if she was competing with something. “I can
get some ice for you to chew on or something.” Ted couldn’t resist the jab. She glared at him as if he
was the anti-Christ. He couldn’t help laughing out loud. Jarod had certainly pegged this one.
“Jarod told me to give you this. He said that you should be able to figure out the combination easily
enough. Anyway, he’s long gone now.” Ted was comfortable again. He didn’t understand Jarod. He
understood these people.
“How did he leave?” Sydney asked, taking the briefcase from him.
“He jumped about ten miles north of Flagstaff. I flew him out there and he jumped. I don’t know
where he went after that. In case you care, he didn’t leave anything in his trailer, either.”
Miss Parker immediately perked up at the prospect of dismantling the trailer but Sydney, re-establishing
a dominance he rarely exercised but always maintained, stopped her. “Miss Parker, we won’t learn
anything else here. Jarod knew we were approaching and we are better served to depart now to study
this briefcase.” Her lack of argument was acceptance enough and Sydney turned to leave.
The helicopter started its main rotor again and Miss Parker prodded her two goons back to life. They
all turned to leave.
“Oh yeah, Miss Parker,” despite Ted’s yelling after her, Miss Parker did not turn to respond. Clearly
she was not interested in anything he had to say. Ted had to come up behind her to be heard over the
rotor wash. “Jarod told me to ask to see your scar.”
Miss Parker struck like a cobra. Ted had been expecting the reflexive slap but he could never have
anticipated the speed of the attack. She caught him clean across the cheekbone and caused the big man
to stagger. Despite the trickle of blood he could feel running down his face, he chuckled to himself. He
was in love.
*****
“Randy, give me the radio.” Miss Parker re-established any loss of dignity within seconds of take-off.
There was no way any man would make a fool of her; let alone that cactus humping cowboy. She
didn’t care if he was damn cute and had the others not been there she didn’t know where the encounter
would have gone. The loss of face in front of her men was unacceptable to a Parker.
“Dispatch. The target area is hot. Erase that grease spot. Eliminate all alpha and bravo targets on the
range. Repeat, all alpha and bravo targets on the range. My command, authentication Jaguar. Out.”
Let the testosterone loaded macho freak deal with that. She popped another cigarette into her mouth.
*****
Ted had fortunately opened the briefcase before Jarod’s friends arrived. Inside he found two notes
from Jarod. One was addressed to him, immediately making Ted feel both guilty and vindicated for
opening the case, and the second had been addressed to Sydney. Also in the case were Ted’s football
game, a red notebook, three travel brochures and a bottle of pills. Rifling though the notebook, Ted
had found a New York Times clipping from 1968 showing the devastation caused by Hurricane
Camille, an article on El Nino and another on global warming. Ted still wasn’t convinced of Jarod’s
claim to be a meteorologist, but he could find no other explanation for the articles.
The note Jarod had left told Ted to clean out all of his important equipment and move to another
location. Unable to resist the temptation of the confrontation, Ted had humped everything of value into
the hills and left enough stuff to survive in his plane. He told his pilot, Dave, the school was closing and
hooked him up with another jump school in Texas, at Jarod’s prompting. Ted figured with the program
Jarod had given him for playing the stock market, he didn’t need the jump school anymore, so he
decided a simple plane crash would eliminate any problems with Jarod’s friends. Ted had the contacts
in Vegas and the $25,000 from Jarod to get himself lost.
As the small plane lifted off the runway Ted began to realize the small miscalculation he had made. He
began to regret not listening to Jarod. The unmistakable silhouette of two flat black F/A 18 Hornets
were coming directly at him, low and fast. They came loaded for bear and Ted couldn’t bring himself to
believe they were outside their operations area. China Lake was nowhere near this place. He set the
autopilot on a steady climb and raced to the back of the plane for his parachute. He knew he stood a
much better chance on the ground.
******
“Dispatch to Parker, over.” The smooth, feminine voice coming over the radio brought a smile to Miss
Parker’s face.
“This is Parker.”
“Mission complete. Alpha and bravo targets eliminated.”
“Excellent,” she hissed. “Out.” She turned towards Sydney who had watched in horror as she had
wiped out a man’s life because he dared to oppose her. Was she that far gone?
“That’s the way I like it.” The toothy, sadistic smile she gave him told Sydney the answer to that
question.
Broots shivered.
*****
Springdale, Arkansas
August 8, 1997, 0900 CST
Jarod, not normally a breakfast eater, sat back and surveyed the damage. Two hot-cakes, four fried
eggs (one sunny side up, one over easy, one over medium and one over hard – he decided he liked
over easy best), three slices of toast, grits and a healthy portion of ‘home-fries’ completed his first
Southern country breakfast. Everyone at the table was impressed. Jarod was actually full. Perhaps this
feeling was what they called stuffed. He almost felt like letting his belt out a little but Bridgett’s presence
precluded any such liberty.
“Get enough, darlin’?” Dorothy asked, partially in fun, partially in disbelief. Did that boy ever eat! If
this was his normal breakfast, how did he ever stay so trim? The places this line of thought took her
made her blush.
“Why yes, it was wonderful,” Jarod chimed in, immensely pleased with himself. The questions they had
been asking him for the last few hours were perfunctory at best, but he knew this was just the warm-up.
The real questions would come later. Probably they would come this afternoon. Right now he had
plenty of time to soak in the hospitality and wonder if this was what it felt like to have a home.
Jarod decided, as the meal wore down, that it was time to both establish his place in the hierarchy of the
group and impress Bridgett a little. “Dorothy, don’t forget to take your blood pressure medicine.”
“How – how on earth do you know I am taking high blood pressure medicine?” Dorothy stammered.
Privately she wondered if she was really that fat that he would naturally assume she needed the
medicine. It didn’t matter if he was right or not, damn it.
The blank shock from Bridgett, Jim and Marty was exactly what Jarod had planned on.
“Elementary, my dear Watson” chimed in Kevin. It was Jarod’s turn to show surprise. “Shall I?” he
politely asked Jarod.
Wheeling and more than a little curious, Jarod simply nodded his head.
“Dorothy, our guest has simply noticed your slightly baggy clothing, deliberate reduction of salt added to
the food, longing stare at the salt shaker used by everyone else seated and your clearly measured
portions. All of these things would indicated that you are clearly watching your weight, losing weight –
and you do look very good – and limiting your salt intake. Hence, you must be under doctor’s orders
to do such, and the most logical condition to warrant such precautions is high blood pressure. Did I
miss anything?”
“Only that she looked at her watch to decide if it had been too long after eating for the medicine,
but…,” Jarod let the question hang. He was dumbfounded.
“Keen observation, my friend. I am the Sherlock Holmes of storms and I don’t miss much in the other
aspects of my life either.” Kevin was clearly pleased with himself. The hierarchy of the group had been
set, all right.
Jarod became increasingly defensive. How much more did this guy already know? “Who is Watson?”
Jarod asked, clearly taken aback by Kevin.
“Come now, you know: Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, England, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,” the
blank stare on Jarod’s face told Kevin all he needed to know. “Didn’t you read as a kid, or even as an
adult? Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Sherlock Holmes!”
“Ah, no. I led a pretty sheltered childhood.”
“What, did you grow up on the ‘Dukes of Hazzard?’” Jeff chimed in this time. Sensing the newcomer
was on the ropes, he homed in for the kill.
“What? Ah, no. I didn’t follow the royal family much.”
“No, Bo and Luke Duke? Daisy Duke? The General Lee?” Jarod kept shaking his head, almost in a
state of delirium. Too many names, too fast. General who? “Sheesh. Did you even have a TV?”
This he could answer. “No. I wasn’t allowed to watch TV.” The almost stifling pressure in the room
began to vent. This simple explanation seemed to satisfy them all.
Bridgett thankfully came to his rescue. “Hey, guys, stop picking on him.” Then she turned her angelic
face to Jarod. “Come on, Jarod, let’s walk down to the Seven-Eleven, I need some toothpaste.” Jarod
quickly agreed and they both headed down the street towards the convenience store about three
quarters of a mile down the street.
As they left the two-story home, Jarod was able to make out some of the details hidden by the darkness
last night. Situated on a corner, the house and lot covered the better part of the block. The Victorian
two-story was painted gray, but was in desperate need of a fresh paint job. The garage was a separate
stone building about ten yards from the house and had no doubt been converted from a carriage house
in the twenties. In the back, the stables were still standing along with the small fenced in area which until
recently had housed two horses. Dorothy’s mother had raised horses, but they had sold them after her
death. A dilapidated rusting carriage stood testament to the heritage of the yard.
The house stood in stark contrast to the relatively modern subdivision behind it. In the mid sixties an F-
3 tornado passed through the town demolishing hundreds of homes. Every home surrounding this one
had been destroyed, and yet this monolith had stood the test of nature. Perhaps it’s proximity to the
local Episcopal Church and the frequency of its owner’s attendance guided the tornado to seek another
target. As further testament, the oak tree on the side lawn suffered a lightning strike in 1987, yet the
house stood firm.
As they began to walk down the street, Jarod could feel the fragrance of Bridgett’s presence on him.
Walking with her intoxicated him. He felt as if he could run a marathon in her shadow and scarcely
notice he was winded. The birds sang with an inhuman clarity and Jarod could somehow track the
sway of each blade of grass as they proceeded down the street. For Jarod, the walk took hours to
complete. Despite having to pass both a ‘Total’ and a ‘Conoco’ convenience store, Jarod didn’t mind
one bit. Had he seen another store farther down the road, he would have directed them towards it.
*****
The friendly girl behind the counter welcomed them into the store. Secretly she mused they were here
for something she knew she’d need if that guy was with her. It genuinely disappointed her when they
started looking for toothpaste. She knew she’d find something to brush her teeth with if that dyke with
him would back off. Her fantasy continued as Jarod walked over to the candy aisle.
After a long look up and down the aisle, Jarod spied several small squares wrapped in brightly colored
wax paper. “What are these?” He asked to Jennie, the altogether too eager clerk.
“Laffy Taffy,” she replied, straightening the few straggling hairs from her pony tail.
“Laffy Taffy?” returned Jarod. He baffled was by the name she had used but intrigued by her hair toss.
“Yeah. It’s like taffy in different flavors. It’s good.” Jennie tried to straighten up a bit to accentuate her
ample figure. She wished she’d worn her push-up bra today, but she thought she could compensate
with posture. Maybe he wasn’t with that bull dyke after all.
“Why do they call it ‘Laffy Taffy’?”
“Because there’s jokes written on the wrapper of each one,” called Bridgett from across the store.
Jennie recognized the signal and deflated her chest. Damn, why are all the good ones taken?
“Jokes?” Jarod replied, opening one of the little squares.
“Yeah, and real corny ones, too.” Bridgett returned.
“Hmm,” said Jarod, reading the first wrapper. “Bridgett, what kind of jokes are like popcorn?”
“I don’t know.” Jarod should have seen she was losing her patience.
“The corny ones!” Jarod smiled, quite pleased with himself. Jennie thought to politely laugh in order to
draw Jarod’s attention again, but Bridgett’s look stopped her. This girl was damn possessive. “This is
funny. How many do you have?”
It was Jennie’s turn to be surprised. “Well, what’s there on the shelf and one more case in the back.”
“I’ll take them.”
Bridgett’s look of exasperation gave Jennie a perceived glimpse into this relationship. Quietly she
mused that at heart all guys were the same. No matter how big they were, they were just bigger kids.
Maybe her boyfriend wasn’t so bad after all. The nod Bridgett gave her told Jennie that Jarod was
indeed serious and mommy had approved. She retired to the back to get the remaining inventory of
taffy.
Jennie believed Jarod’s count of 4365 taffy squares and rang up the total. He insisted on paying for
Bridgett’s toothpaste and the total came out to $235.58 which Jarod paid for with three one-hundred
dollar bills. Jennie had never seen that much money in one place at one time. Jarod had more money in
his wallet than she made in two weeks at this dump. He may be eccentric, but the dude could afford it.
She noted the comical combination of purchases and decided she’d have to call her friend Melissa
immediately to let her know. Mel would never believe this.
*****
Jarod and Bridgett left and headed back to the house. Much to the surprise of everyone on the street,
each of whom watched intently through their windows, the man who had been obviously doting over the
woman next to him was now fully engrossed in the contents of his paper grocery sacks. He kept tearing
open taffy wrappers and devouring the taffy, taking time only to recite the jokes on the underside of the
wrapper to his exasperated companion. The woman was extremely tolerant, the locals noted.
Springdale was a small town, especially the historic district. Everyone knew the woman as the
photographer staying at Maybell’s old place. Maybell had died of a heart-attack about six months ago,
which had been a surprise to everyone. She always walked in the morning and she had been taking her
medication for years. Rumor was her daughter had even started taking medication for her blood
pressure. Maybell was a trim woman who watched every calorie she ate and policed her salt like an
alcoholic at a New Years Party. When she died it had been a shock to the community. Her only
daughter, Dorothy was nice enough though, even if her husband was a storm chaser. Strange couple,
but they were quiet.
The rumors had been flying that Kevin was having an affair with this new girl, but now with this big guy
showing up, most of those rumors would die quickly. This was obviously her boyfriend. Cute enough,
they figured. Today it would circulate that he had been polite in refusing the advances of little Jennie
Daniels, who was not such a good girl. Most of the women in town did not let their husbands or sons
into that store unattended while Jennie was there. Anyway, this guy had escaped unscathed. Obviously
he was the boyfriend of that photographer girl. Betty Cornell, who had been inside the Seven-Eleven,
had verified no rings.
*****
When Jarod returned to the house, Kevin had a little surprise waiting for him. “What are these?” Jarod
asked regarding the two thick books on the coffee table.
“They’re for you. That’s the ‘Complete Sherlock Holmes Volumes 1 and 2’ and I do expect you to
read them by tomorrow,” Kevin joked. “I thought you’d like to read them, since you’re now the third
best investigator I’ve met.”
“Third?” Jarod asked with an expression of disbelief.
“Yeah, Sherlock, me then you. Get to work.” Jarod picked up the first book, about 1100 pages. He
should have this finished by supper. “By the way, do you know anything about engines?”
“I was a mechanic once, why?”
“Come on then, let’s get the tractor up and running. We’ve got a lawn to mow.”
“Okay,” Jarod answered. They left to go out to the back workshop to try to restore the 1938 Ford
tractor to a running condition.
*****
After lunch the two of them went back to the shed. Jarod was busy rewinding the starter motor, which
had burned out, while Kevin began to re-machine the choke linkages. The main linkage for the choke
had snapped and the motor flooded, burning up the starter motor when Kevin tried to start it last week.
Parts for the tractor were impossible to find and besides, both Kevin and Jarod took pride in machining
their own parts anyway. Jarod continued to impress Kevin, even though Kevin thought the young guy
tried to show off too much. With age comes patience, Kevin thought. Besides, isn’t it common for the
young buck to test the teacher. Kevin already loved Jarod like a son.
The two women made lemonade for the men that afternoon. Bridgett, who was normally off re-
shingling the roof or replacing the transmission in the truck stuck close by Dorothy. Dorothy beamed
under the light of her attention. Dorothy was eager to help Bridgett out in any way that she could. She
was delighted that finally Bridgett had found someone she was interested in. She was not blind to
Kevin’s feelings for Bridgett but she trusted Kevin. After all these years, she knew him better than he
knew himself. Bridgett was a rather homely looking girl, but beneath that she had a heart of gold and
Dorothy loved her like a daughter. Seeing Jarod and Kevin work together, she couldn’t help fantasizing
about the family she never had. Maybe she would get one after all.
Dorothy had paid special attention to Jarod’s surprise and delight at the lemonade. She doubted he
tasted a single drop as he drank it with Bridgett hovering so close. Bridgett even feigned interest in what
Jarod was doing and listened to a twenty minute lecture on winding a motor, even though Dorothy knew
Bridgett could have done it in her sleep. Bridgett had it for Jarod all right. They were perfect for each
other and Dorothy would be damned if anything would come between them. Jarod positively
worshipped Bridgett’s every move, and Dorothy had only seen that one other time in a man. That man
she had married before he got away.
Although her mother had passed away recently, she was now beginning to feel a little more at home
here. At home, she chuckled to herself; she had grown up in this home. It was still confusing not to
walk into her old bedroom, which Jeff was sleeping in, instead of the master bedroom. A man in her
room; what would mother think! Anyway, mother was with God now, and the hurting was beginning to
heal. She and Kevin were never so happy as they were now. Kevin's run-in with the tornado had
caused impotence. They could never have children of their own. Maybe now they would get to adopt
two….
Bridgett positively glowed when the two of them returned to the kitchen after spending an hour in the
shed. Kevin had made more than one remark to Dorothy indicating his similar line of thinking. Jarod
and Bridgett had been completely unaware of their presence, however. Dorothy was so happy.
Maybe she’d show Bridgett how to make a Rhubarb Crunch this afternoon. She’d been picking up
cooking exceptionally quickly over the last two days. Dorothy had even begun to suspect the joke
she’d made about being a gourmet chief in New York to be the truth. No, silly, she scolded herself,
Bridgett was just a fast learner. The way to a man’s heart was still his stomach and Jarod had proven
himself a prolific eater. Yes, a good crunch would do the trick.
Jarod would like that.
