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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
The Devil you Know
Allie Davidson
E-mail: allykat@cruzio.com
Rating: This story is rated PG-13 foradult situations and some mild cursing.
Summery: While Jarod is forced by Lyle to continue working on simulations that could have catastrophic consequences, Broots,Sydney and Miss Parker find evidence that he is being held at the Centre in an area they would all like to forget: SL27. Help to locate Jarod comes their way from an unlikely source.
Lyle sat behind a two-way mirror and watched Jarod and Dr. Raines work on a hijacking sim.
"Now this is a sight," he said to Brigitte who sat in a chair behind him in the observation room.
The woman leaned forward and rested her forearms on the back of the folding chair in front of her. "Who would have ever thought the lab rat would willingly work with Doctor Frankenstein."
"He knows what happens if he doesn't."
"How do you know he's not lying and sabotaging the sims?"
Lyle laughed shortly and unpleasantly. His eyes never left Jarod as he replied. "I've been over that with him. Let me just say that he has incentive to make certain our clients are successful."
"I won't ask what that is," Brigitte giggled. "You don't want to know."
Since he and Brigitte captured Jarod, there was no lack of clients needing their advice, or rather the advice of their pretender. Lyle wasn't concerned with what his clients required; he didn't care if Jarod help the clients plan the annihilation of an entire country as long as he collected his fee.
Jarod was an extraordinary man, though Lyle would never admit the awe he felt watching Jarod work. The problem with Jarod was that he cared too much about the little people, and that was a weakness to be exploited. Jarod still didn't know that Sydney wasn't dead. Lyle wasn't going to tell him. He wanted Jarod dependent, helpless and without hope.
"Many hijacks fail due to lack of contingency planning," Jarod was saying. Lyle could hear him through the one-way speaker system, the timbre of his usually deep voice hoarse and shaking. Jarod sat before a table containing a cutaway model of a large transport airplane and an enlarged map of an area somewhere in Central America. "There has to be back up plans for every leg of the operation," Jarod continued. "To do this successfully, you need to break down the operation into separate segments." He pointed to the map. "We've already discussed the initial hijacking of the plane. The next segment is to throw off any pursuit. The client will need to construct an airstrip here and camouflage it from the possibility of satellite photos. No more than fifteen minutes before the craft lands, the runway should be cleared and prepared. A ground crew will be on alert to assist in moving the plane's contents to another craft. Then, the transponder from the original craft should be removed and placed into a decoy, preferably something with good maneuverability like a helicopter, or a vehicle that can be easily abandoned. The original craft should then be destroyed immediately. The new plane, painted with a fake tour logo on the side and carrying the contraband, needs to be back in the air in ten minutes and no longer. Total time between transport plane landing and new plane taking off is no more than 25 minutes. I suggest several trial runs through this segment before the actual job."
"What about the hijacked flight crew?" Raines asked in his raspy voice and breathed deeply. He placed a hand on the table, leaned over Jarod and stared at the map.
Jarod lowered his head, his forearms on the table, his hands clenched. When he raised his head he looked directly into the two-way mirror as though he knew Lyle watched him. Lyle felt a chill travel up his spine at the enraged look on Jarod's face.
"For the plan to work they have to be killed," Jarod said, a catch in his voice. He stood, his chair falling backwards, and he swept an arm across the table. The contents fell to the floor, the plane model breaking into pieces on the cold tiles.
"I won't do this!" he shouted to the one-way mirror. Raines straightened, drew away from him and backed into a corner.
"Looks like your lab rat is having a little temper tantrum," Brigitte said as she extracted a lollipop out of a jacket pocket.
"Trust me, it won't last long," Lyle said as he tipped his head toward the woman. He stood, leaned over and pressed a doorbell-like button attached to the wall beside the two-way mirror.
Jarod had turned and shoved Raines to the ground, then snatched a chair and dashed it against the one-way mirror, once, twice, three times. Spider cracks splintered across the reinforced glass. Then, the door to the sim room burst open and three men entered and rushed toward him. Jarod spun around swinging the chair and cracked one man over the head then swept it around smashing it into the side of another man. Two men down, one to go. Lyle pressed the button twice more.
"Does he do this often?" Brigitte asked with a lift of one brow and licked her lollipop.
"Not often, but later he's always very apologetic," Lyle replied unruffled as two more men and a doctor rushed into the room. Raines had been assisted to his feet and taken out of the room. It took three men to subdue Jarod. They held him down on the floor, pressing their weight onto his arms and legs as the doctor approached and injected a sedative into his bicep. "Damn you Lyle!" Jarod bellowed.
"Excuse me a moment," Lyle said to Brigitte, stood and exited out of the observation room, walking around to the sim room. He entered and stood above Jarod.
"You're going to have to kill me. I don't care," Jarod shouted and struggled. Lyle looked down at him and tsked, then drew
back and kicked him in the ribs three times. He felt something crack. Jarod's eyes closed, his breath whooshed from his lungs.
"You know that's gotta hurt," Lyle said, then lifted a foot and pressed it against Jarod's throat. "Centre reality check, Jarod. The Centre owns you. You are a tool. What ever needs to be done to ensure your cooperation will be pursued with extreme prejudice. And I can be very persuasive. Understand?" When Jarod didn't answer Lyle leaned his weight into his foot. Jarod gasped for air. Lyle watched the man for a moment before removing his foot. "Take him to the room."
* * * *
Miss Parker made her way through the cemetery to her mother's grave. Arriving at the grave she knelt down and propped an armful of flowers against the gravestone.
"I miss you," she said softly, and touched the ground with her fingertips, hoping that somehow her mother would know how much she was missed.
She stood and strolled through the quiet cemetery enjoying the early morning sunshine. She and the groundskeeper were the only ones present. Birds hidden among green boughs sang and the grass still glimmered with morning dew. She lingered despite a pressing urgency to get to the Centre. She knew Brigitte and Lyle were up to something, but so far she, Sydney and Broots hadn't found anything. That the Centre found excuses to send the three of them away on what she considered Wild Goose Chases made warning bells go off in her head. She had Broots looking through recent Centre records for anything odd. Despite the grief that she gave him, she trusted him and his hacking talents. If there was a secret in the Centre, he would find it. She passed the groundskeeper. He crawled around on his hands and knees placing long rolls of sod in the bare earth. A gravestone had been pulled out of the ground and laid to one side.
"What happened?" Miss Parker asked. "Someone decide they weren't dead?"
The groundskeeper looked up and grimaced. "You ain't from the production company, are you?"
"Production company?" Miss Parker echoed.
"Guess not. We had folks filming some kind of movie here, and they used this gravesite. They were insistent that this area be returned to its original state, pronto. I didn't have the chance until today. I thought you were one of them coming to make certain the job had been done."
Miss Parker sauntered over to the headstone and froze. Could it be a coincidence that the name carved across the gravestone read Rest In Peace Sydney Green? Her hands clenched at her side.
"Did you by chance meet any of the production people?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
"Not directly, but I did see a lady talking to the director. She had dark hair like yours, and blue eyes. She sucked on a lollipop-"
"If anyone asks, you haven't seen me," Miss Parker interrupted the man. "Got it?"
The groundskeeper swallowed. "Sure. I haven't seen anyone." He continued to work, studiously staring at the ground as Miss Parker walked away. At the end of the cemetery, by the parking lot where she had parked her Boxster, Miss Parker turned, scanned the cemetery and gathered her thoughts.
"This stinks of Lyle," she said to herself, pulled her cell phone out a coat pocket and hit a speed dial button.
* * * *
Sydney knelt down next to Angelo who lay curled up on the floor completely uncommunicative, his arms wrapped tightly over his head. He'd been like this for several days and Sydney hadn't been able to find any reason. His cell phone rang and he pulled it out of an inside suit pocket and flipped it open.
"This is Sydney," he answered after the second ring.
"Syd," Miss Parker said. "I'm at the cemetery. I need you and Broots here."
"Can you tell me what this is about?"
"Not now. Don't tell anyone where you're going."
"I'm in the middle of something. Can it wait?"
"I don't think so. There's something here you need to see."
Sydney wondered what could be at a cemetery that he needed to see. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He returned the cell phone to a pocket.
"Pain and hurting," Angelo mumbled and curled up tighter. It was the first words Sydney had heard him speak in two days.
"Whose pain, Angelo?" Sydney said softly, placing a hand on the man's arm. Angelo shivered.
"Hurting him. Make them stop."
Sydney looked up at the sound of squeaking wheels and raspy breathing.
"What's wrong with him?" Raines asked, coming to stand over Sydney and Angelo.
"I don't know, I was hoping you could tell me," Sydney said.
Angelo shivered then began to sob.
* * * *
"You took your time," Miss Parker said as Sydney and Broots climbed out of the automobile.
"I was detained," Sydney explained. "I couldn't excuse myself without rousing suspicion. What is it, Miss Parker."
"Come with me," she crooked a finger toward the two men and led them along a path to where the groundskeeper still lay sod on the exposed earth. She pointed to the gravestone. "Take a look."
Sydney shrugged, perplexed, then walked to the gravestone. Horror spread across his face while his lips moved silently reading the name and epitaph carved on the marble stone. Broots stood along side him; his gaze darted from the older man to Miss Parker.
"Is this a joke?" Broots asked.
"That's what I would like to know," Miss Parker said and crossed her arms.
"Why does this gravestone have my name?" Sydney said quietly.
"Now that is exactly what I want to know." She motioned them out of hearing range of the groundskeeper. "The groundskeeper described Brigitte to me. Now, what is the one thing that would draw Jarod out?"
"My death," Sydney said, then nodded.
"You think Brigitte and Lyle have Jarod?" Broots asked.
"That's exactly what I think, and I think he's right under our noses." She pointed up along the line of trees surrounding the east boundary of the cemetery. "Jarod would come to your funeral, but he wouldn't show himself. The clearest line of sight and also the best concealment would be from that ridge of trees up there. Let's look and see what we find."
The three of them swept the area for two hours. Miss Parker knew she'd have to call off their search soon, she didn't want anyone at the Centre becoming suspicious if they were out together too long. Neither Sydney nor Broots were in sight so she extracted her cell phone, flipped it open and called Sydney.
"Find anything?" she asked.
"A few footprints, nothing else. Broots and I crossed paths a few moments ago. He's here. He hasn't found anything."
"Damn," Miss Parker said softly. "We're going to have to pack it up-," her voice trailed off as her gaze swept the ground around her. "Hold on. I think I've found something."
"I believe we're south of you. We'll be right there," Sydney replied, but Miss Parker didn't hear. She folded up the cell phone and returned it to the pocket.
The ground and the leaves here had been disturbed. She looked around finding several dozen old faded footprints in the bare earth and more crushed leaves from a struggle of some sort. She then hunched down and stared closely at odd brown stains on the leaves. The stains had been smeared, probably by the rain. She looked up. Possibly the only reason the stains had not been washed away was due to the relative shelter by the tree boughs above. She picked a leaf. The stains looked suspiciously like blood. The more she looked around her, the more blood she found. She knew there were a few types of wounds that bled this much. Head wounds and gunshot wounds came to mind.
She looked up as Broots and Sydney came into view. She motioned to them and held up a leaf.
"Blood," Broots said. He pulled a plastic bag and tweezers from his jacket. He plucked up a few of the leaves, put them in the bag and sealed it. "I can have the DNA on this checked."
"How soon?" Miss Parker asked.
Broots shrugged. "One of the guys in the lab is a friend of mine who owes me. He may have something by tomorrow evening."
* * * *
In the air conditioning vent, Angelo cringed, his back pressed against the smooth walls as he listened to the echo of hoarse screams. He pressed his hands to his ears attempting to shut out the sound and rocked back and forth, tears trickled down his face.
"Hurting," he mumbled. "They're hurting him."
Angelo wanted to help his friend but he couldn't, at least not on his own. The cell was too well guarded and Lyle was always around. Angelo was afraid of Lyle. His rocking stopped. He pulled his hands away from his ears then he turned and crouch-ran down the air duct toward the main area of the Centre.
* * * *
Only a desklamp and the glow of the computer monitor lit up Broot's office. He sat at his desk and brought up his email, scanned the headers and clicked on one. "10pm and as promised here's the lab report, right on time." His eyes flicked back and forth as he read, then nodded. "That was Jarod's blood all right."
"And you have found nothing else?" Miss Parker failed to keep the impatience out of her voice.
"I've looked all over the Centre files, Miss Parker," Broots said. Sydney lounged in a chair near the door, alert for any sounds of approaching footsteps. "I've broken into expense records and report files. I didn't find anything. Nothing is out of place. There's been a lot of money directed toward remodeling, but that isn't unusual. I don't think they have Jarod in the Centre. They must be holding him somewhere else."
"What are you thinking, Miss Parker," Sydney asked. Miss Parker crossed her arms and leaned back against Broot's desk.
"They have him here," she said. "My gut instinct tells me Jarod is right under our noses. Where would they hide him? Where would be the most unlikely place?" Her eyes narrowed. "SL27"
"Did you say SL27?" Broots shuddered. "It's been closed up since the explosion and the fire."
"I think we should take a look and see what we find," she said.
"Broots is right, Miss Parker, there is nothing down there. SL27 was destroyed."
"At least that is what they want us to think," she said looking between them. She could see the reluctance in their faces. She didn't blame them. The explosion had temporarily taken Sydney's eyesight. "Look, I don't like the place either, but if they are hiding Jarod why not hid him where no one would suspect?"
* * * *
The beams of flashlights stabbed the darkness as Miss Parker followed Broots and Sydney down the access ladder into SL27. She beamed her flashlight across the charred walls, the smell of old fire still in the air. She shivered and resisted the urge to wrap
her arms around her. This place gave her the creeps. Broken glass and charred bits of unidentified objects crunched under their feet as they walked forward. Miss Parker halted, unwilling to go further. Her hunch had been wrong. Jarod wasn't down here. Nothing was down here. Sydney kept walking, shinning his flashlight beam up at the ceiling and around the empty, doorless rooms.
"Do you smell something odd?" Sydney asked as he walked to the doorway of a room, then back out.
Miss Parker grimaced. "Smells like burnt hair."
"No, something else. I smell it too," Broots said, turning a flashlight beam up at the old air ducts. "Smells like someone has been painting."
Miss Parker reluctantly took a big sniff. She smelled it too, the chemical odor of paint mingled in with other unpleasant smells.
Sydney nodded. "Exactly. Now why would we smell paint down here?"
"Someone has decided SL27 would make a good fixer upper?" Miss Parker suggested with a lift of one eyebrow. "Let's go."
Further down the hallway they came up short against a wall.
"This wasn't here before," Sydney said.
"I don't remember it either," Miss Parker replied.
The wall appeared charred. Miss Parker leaned forward and sniffed and the wall held a faint odor of paint. She put out a finger and touched it and her finger came away clean without any black smudges.
"The wall has been painted to look burnt," Sydney said and he flashed his light over the wall and ran a hand over the smooth
surface. "It's still tacky so it's been recently painted." He turned to Broots. "Is there any other way into SL27."
"Possibly the elevator on the east end of the building, but if it's working to this floor, it will be guarded," he replied, his gaze dropped to the floor and he shuffled his feet.
"Well?" Miss Parker prompted. "Are you going to tell us or are we going to have to guess?"
"There's the buildings air ducts and cooling system. I know where I can find a schematic."
"A guide would be better," Sydney said. "Angelo."
* * * *
Jarod lay on his cot and shivered, his sweat soaking blankets and sheets. He simultaneously felt hot and cold, but the pain racing up his nerve endings never varied, never lessened. His hands had frozen into claws and his body wouldn't respond. He just laid and shivered and swallowed the screams that threatened to burst forth.
"I won't help you," he managed as another wave of icy shivers traveled up his body.
"You're too hard on yourself," Lyle's voice came from across the room. "And you're not doing yourself any favors. You cooperate and your life gets easier. It's that simple."
"I won't be responsible for the deaths of innocent people." Sweat poured down his forehead and stung his eyes as he tried to focus on Lyle.
"Now that is funny," Lyle said. "All this denial. Jarod, you are responsible for more death and destruction then even I can imagine, and I can image a lot. And this clinging to false heroics is ludicrous." Jarod could hear the rustle of Lyle's clothing as moved across the room. "Make certain you give him enough that he stays like this all night," Lyle said to someone.
"Well, it's late and I'm leaving. Let's see how you feel about all this in the morning."
He heard Lyle's footsteps recede. Someone moved close to him. He felt the prick of a needle in his arm, then heard footsteps and the door closing. He was alone.
And the agony began. Tremors racked his body and he slipped off the bed to the cold concrete floor. He opened his eyes and watched as the walls of his cell melted like lava, glowing streaming of burning yellow-light oozed toward his body. The acrid smell of burning flesh rose around him. Ghost-like tendrils of smoke filled the room as the lava flowed over his body and into his eyes, into his mouth, consuming him, burning him alive.
He began to scream.
* * * *
"What the hell is that?" Miss Parker paused in the air duct.
"Sounds like screaming," Broots said and cocked his head.
"He's hurting," Angelo mumbled. "Hurting bad. Lyle hurting him. Hurry."
"This is what Angelo has been saying for the last few days. I think he's been referring to Jarod." Sydney grasped Angelo's arm. "Who is Lyle hurting, Angelo?"
"Hurting," Angelo said and flinched. He pulled away from Sydney and scurried down the air conditioning duct.
Miss Parker glanced at Sydney and Broots, a chill running up her spine as another scream echoed up to them.
"That is Jarod...?" Sydney and Broots looked as unsettled as she felt. She couldn't image what would make Jarod scream this way.
"Hurry," said Angelo looking over his shoulder. "He needs your help."
The air conditioning duct ended at a metal grating that opened into a sterile white hallway, freshly painted, Miss Parker noted. SL27 had been resurrected. Miss Parker climbed out first. The screams were louder here, and the shrill panic in those screams made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Angelo shook his head, fear lurking in his eyes, and sat back on his haunches. She knew he'd be there to help them escape from SL27.
"Guard down there," Angelo pointed.
Miss Parker nodded and drew her gun as Broots and Sydney climbed out of the air duct. "Let me take care of this."
The gun held firmly in both hands, Miss Parker crept down the hall, the screams masking the sound of her footsteps. A man stood with his back to her as he stared toward the source of the screams coming from a room a half dozen doors away. She crept up beside him.
"Boo!" she said in his ear. He flinched, started to turn then halted at the gun barrel pressed into the soft area below his jaw. "Get down on your knees," Miss Parker ordered between clenched teeth. He hesitated and she cocked the gun. "You could say I'm not really a happy camper at the moment, so don't give me any reason to pull the trigger." The man fell to his knees. "You're lucky that this is all I have time for." She brought the butt of the gun down twice on the back of his head. He collapsed to the floor. "I'm saving the best part for Lyle," she said to the unconscious man. She turned as Sydney and Broots joined her.
The screams had turned to whimpers and they followed the sounds to a cell room. An electronic passcode device was mounted on the wall. A steel pull-back latch with a solid red indicator light secured the door. Miss Parker peered in through the small, reinforced glass window set into thedoor.
"Oh god," she whispered. "It's Jarod. Broots, can you get this door open?"
"I... I think so," Broots replied and nodded. He looked in through the window, glanced away quickly, shuddered then directed his attention on the passcode device. "It may be rigged to set off a silent alarm if the wrong code is entered. I need something to pop off the cover."
Miss Parker patted her coat pockets, then pulled out a metal fingernail file. "Will this do?" "It'll have to," Broots said, and started working.
"Oh, and Broots." Miss Parker tapped his shoulder. He turned and looked at her. "Hurry, will you?"
Miss Parker looked again into the window. Sydney stared, horror in hiseyes.
"What have they done to him?" he finally managed.
"Knowing Lyle, any number of gruesome guesses is probably true or close to the truth."
On the floor Jarod lay twitching and shivering. His arms crossed over his face as though warding off phantasms only he could see.
"Why would they do this to Jarod?" Miss Parker said more to herself, hardly able to believe that even Lyle would stoop to this. Then again, evidence still suggested he had killed his mail order bride. Lyle, she believed, was capable of almost anything to get what he wanted.
"I know Jarod would not willingly work with Lyle, but there are ways to coherence and break down even the strongest will," Sydney said.
The red light on the latch blinked then turned solid green and the internal door latch mechanisms clicked.
"Broots, you're a genius," Miss Parker said and meant it as she threw back the latch and entered the room. She stood at the door to keep an eye on the outside corridor while Sydney ran over to Jarod and knelt beside him.
"Jarod?" he said softly and pulled Jarod's arms away from his face. He then peeled back the eyelids and looked at the dilated pupils. "They have him drugged." Sydney looked around then pointed to a wastebasket. "See what you can find, Miss Parker."
Usually Miss Parker would protest over being ordered to go through someone's trash, but this was not the time. She quickly found two syringes and held them up.
"Save them," Sydney said. "We'll need them to figure what they've been giving Jarod."
"Sydney?" Jarod said, his eyes fluttered open, his voice rough and barely audible. "I must be dead."
Sydney motioned to Broots, and together they lifted Jarod off the floor, propping him between them, shrugging his arms over their shoulders. "We're going to get you out of here."
* * * *
Jarod looked like hell, Miss Parker thought as she sat in the corner of the bedroom. His skin was pale and pasty looking, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. He'd lost weight; the clothes Sydney and Broots removed from him had hung like rags and he now wore a pair of Broot's ridiculous pajamas with little cowboys on them. Sydney brought sedatives for him and the plastic brown bottles sat on the nightstand next to the table. Jarod would go through withdrawals Sydney had explained, and the sedatives would lessen the symptoms. The best thing for him was food and sleep. Right now he was sleeping, albeit restlessly, better than the screaming and his hallucinations they had to deal with earlier. Toward sunrise, they had finally calmed him down. She looked at her watch. It was 7:30am.
"Why, it's Miss Parker. As they say, the devil you know is better than the devil you don't," said a weak voice.
Miss Parker looked up. "How do you feel?" She walked over and knelt next to the bed. She rested one hand on his arm, then ran her fingers through his hair lifting it off his sweaty forehead.
"Like someone is using my head as an anvil," Jarod groaned.
She smiled faintly. She now understood what "hell warmed over" looked like, and it looked like Jarod. She reached over, retrieved a glass of water off the nightstand and offered it to him. He took it, and she helped tilt his head up so he could drink. Even that effort exhausted him and fell back to the bed.
"I remember seeing Sydney," he said after a moment.
"He's coming to relieve me in a few minutes," Miss Parker said.
"He's not dead?"
"No. That was a trick to lure you into a trap."
"I fell right into it."
"You can't be a genius all the time," Miss Parker tried to sooth him. He studied the room for a moment.
"Where am I?"
"A safehouse away from the Centre. More importantly, away from Lyle." She placed the glass back on the night table.
"You rescued me?"
"Rescued?" She stood and moved away from him, staring out the dust-crusted window at the dilapidated neighborhood two stories below. How could she return him to a place that treated him worse than an animal? She closed her eyes a moment and took a breath. It was her job and duty to the Centre to bring Jarod in. She couldn't let him go, but neither could she return him to the conditions she'd just risked her life to take him away from.
"Why did you rescue me?" his voice sounded a little stronger, more demanding, more like the Jarod she was familiar with.
She turned back to the man on the bed, her hands clasped behind her back. "Don't kid yourself, Jarod. I may not agree with Lyle's techniques, however you are going back to the Centre but this time it will be my conditions." She walked out of the room at that, her way of avoiding any more uncomfortable conversations with Jarod. She closed the door behind her and came face to face with Sydney. She knew he'd heard her parting remarks to Jarod.
"Jarod is not a commodity to be used for bargaining," Sydney said softly. "Need I remind you he is a human being."
"Jarod is a product of the Centre. He belongs to the Centre," Miss Parker said with more conviction than she felt. She stared at Sydney a moment and for the first time really wondered if she could trust him. She had to, there was no one else. She needed him to make Jarod well again. "Sam will be relieving you in a few hours. I have to get to the Centre at my regular time."
"Miss Parker," Sydney's voice stopped her as she made her way to the door. "I want Jarod back as much as you, but not like this."
"We have a bargaining chip, Syd, we have Jarod and we have it in our power to dictate the terms of his return."
* * * *
Miss Parker sat at her desk and as the door to her office flung inward, she looked up meeting her brother's eyes across the room.
"Problems?" she asked. Lyle came across the room to her desk, planted his hands on the desktop and leaned toward her.
"You tell me, sister," he ground out.
"What got your undies in a bunch?" She leaned back in her chair and regarded her bother steadily.
"You have him. Where did you take him?"
"And who might 'he' be?"
"Don't play dumb."
Miss Parker drew her gun, cocked it and fired. The sound of the unsilenced weapon echoed in the room as the bullet thudded into the wall behind Lyle. She had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. She stood, leaned on her desk, her face inches from Lyle's.
"Get out of my office or next time I won't miss."
Lyle hesitated then backed off, never taking his eyes off the gun she held in her hand. "This isn't finished."
"You're right," Miss Parker replied, "it isn't."
continued.....
