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Disclaimer in part one...thanks to Niceole and Trish..I corrected this copy
The Truth Hurts
Part 16
by Michele
Margaret paced impatiently, waiting for Fergus to return to the Caer with the transmitter. It had served its purpose for the time being, and she wanted it back in her hands instead of attached to the headboard of Miss Parker's bed. But at this particular moment, Margaret had to exert her power back at the Centre. She reached for the telephone and hit the speed dial button and within moments of it connecting, a familiar voice answered.
"Parker, here."
"She's on her own."
"She left him."
"For the moment."
"Why?"
"Because I needed to seperate them, for a while. I wasn't the one that put this game in motion. You can thank Mr. Lyle for that. If he hadn't throw in with Alex, then none of this would be necessary. You need to keep him occupied, Parker. Miss Parker and Jarod are my concern, now. Put Lyle in charge of locating Mirage, but if I find him poking his nose where it doesn't belong, I can send his little world in to a tail spin if I choose. Don't make me do that! Do I make myself clear?"
"Of course. Can I send a sweeper team for Jarod?" Mr. Parker asked, a small hopeful smile on his features.
"And where would you like to send that sweeper team too?" Margaret laughed, " I know, Timbuktu. Where they are is my business. Have you discovered how they found that picture in the first place?"
"Not yet,"Mr. Parker responded, then paused briefly," How is my angel?"
"Oh that's rich, parental concern coming from you. She knows that you're not her father, Parker, thanks to Alex. That wasn't suppose to happen, at least not yet. I suppose that I should be grateful that Catherine didn't include that juicy tidbit of information in those journals of hers that I found, and obviously Jarod hasn't stumbled across it either."
"So you still believe that that information is still out there?"
"Of course, you old fool. Catherine knew the truth and somewhere there's a DSA along with the rest of her journals waiting to be found."
"You think that she's going to lead you to them, don't you? How is that possible, since you blocked her memories."
"Let's just say that she has something that should peak her curiousity, memory block or not. She'll lead me to them. I'll let you know when I have them, in the mean time, inform Lyle that the triumverate wants him to leave Miss Parker alone as well as my son. Locating and securing Ethan is much more pressing. My sources sighted him in Pennslyvannia, send Lyle there."
The static noise coming through his phone, indicated that the conversation was over. Instead of hanging up, he punched in a series of numbers and waited.
"Yes, Mr. Parker," the male voice on the other end replied.
"The call that just came through on my private line, did you etablished
the trace on it."
"Yes, sir, the trace was established but....." the technican stammered.
"But....." Mr. Parker demanded.
"Timbuktu, sir. That's where it was placed. Do you want to send a team?"
"No, it's not necessary. " He slammed the receiver into its cradle, muttering angrily when the door to his office burst open.
" Dad, where the hell is my sister?"
"Lyle, just the person I needed to see, the triumverate has an important assignment for you. Locating and returning Mirage." Mr.Parker came around his desk and placed an arm on his son's shoulder, heading back toward the door he just entered.
"I was about to leave for California, a lead on Jarod," Lyle stopped and stared, confusion clearly clouding his features.
"Sam will go. These orders came from the triumverate, Lyle. And don't worry about your sister, she's got her own assignment to complete for the triumverate."
"Then her so called vacation isn't really a vacation, is it?" Lyle quiered.
"No, business as usual."
"The hunt for Mirage, uh. Any clues as to where to look? At least we know that the Major and the boy are running around Mexico, couldn't you call Cox back to intiate the search and I'll go back down and take over for him."
"The triumverate specfically asked that you head up this search. There was a sighting in Pennslyvannia, check with Broots." Mr. Parker reached for the knob of his door and opened it, stepping out into the corridor with Lyle.
"Fine!" Lyle huffed and headed toward the elevator.
***
The owner stirred when he heard the crunch of tires on gravel. There was barely any light left in the sky, and he had just made a pot of tea and was reluctant to get up. But his curiosity got the better of him. Visitors to Kyle of Lochalsh seldom ventured out this late when the rains of October lashed the sky even though the historic coastal town on the Loch Garve was the starting point for the more colorful attractions and such on the Island of Skye. This night's weather was not fit for hound or human.
Peering through his gatehouse window, he saw a woman get off of the omnibus from Glenfinnan. Dressed for the weather, she had on a waterproof jacket, dark pants, and walking boots.
The owner watched the way the woman stepped away from omnibus and looked around, taking in her surroundings. Cautious like. She approached then opened the door and stepped into the foyer, oblivious to the loose strands of wet hair that hung limp around her face.
Shufflng into the foyer, Alasdair Ross stared at the young woman that stood before him. Something cold and sharp danced along his spine, making him shudder. She was in her mid-thirties, tall, with auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. Alabaster skin, high cheekbones and her eyes, blue like the sea.
She wasn't sure how long she had stood there, like an abandoned forgotten statue, or what had finally made her take a step.
"Catie?" Catie Jamison? Yer 'ere?" Alasdair stepped closer, realizing his mistake.
"Yer no Catie."
"No, my name's Miss Parker. The MacDonalds at Glenfinnan told me that you had a cottage I could rent. Some place quiet and remote from prying eyes."
"Yer be her twin. Sweet Catie. She 'asn't ben here in o'er twenty years. Parker, ye says, Catie was wedded to a Parker o'er the states. Where be me manners? Come warm yerself, 'ave a spot o' tea wiv me, please?" He extended a hand for the wet jacket and placed it on the brass coat rack next to the door.
"This Catie, you speak of, my mother was Catherine Jamison Parker, did you know her?" Miss Parker asked, taking a seat in the rocking chair next to the stone hearth.
"O' course, yer 'er daug'ter. She 'oped that one day, yer come to see Ceol Na Mara." the old man smiled, as he took a seat opposite of Parker.
"Ceol Na Mara?" Parker asked, Alasdair amazed at her gaelic pronounciation.
"Music of the Sea. The cottage, it be 'er place. I n't lettin' yer go there by yerself, yer miss it'n the dark, lass. Summink to eat, first. Yer to tell me w'y yer come?"
"I'm not sure why? After my car broke down in Glenfinnan, something told me to take the ominbus," Parker said, leaning back into the rocking chair.
***
Jarod woke with a start, someone was shaking his shoulder and talking to him rather excitedly. Palming his eyes, he looked up to find Marley staring down at him, her features twisted in panic.
"'ave ye seen Parker, Jarod?" Marley repeated.
"Not since this after the funeral, why?" Jarod was on his feet, quickly and heading toward the stairs. "She's suppose to be resting."
"She's no be in her room. Geilie be takin' a tray for her, it be empty." Marley reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder to still him. " Her auto be missin', too." Jarod slipped past Marley, taking the stairs two at a time, reaching the bedroom door, in record time. Not bothering to knock, he pushed the door wide open, and surveyed the room. He noted that the closet door stood open, as well as the armoire drawer for which he headed. Pulling it open even further, Jarod noted that his sweaters and shirts had been rifled through, and the envelope that contained the cash lay on top of them.
"She took her car," Jarod repeated the question to Marley.
"Aye, why?"
"There was still a problem with it, it wasn't running right. Rory was having trouble with it and wanted to replace the fuel injector system. This isn't good. You said that Geilie found the room empty, where's Geilie now?"
"She be in the kitchen wiv' Ian, bakin'. Ye need to go easy wiv her, Jarod. Grannie's death 'it 'er 'ard."
"All I want to know is if Parker left a note, something, anything. At least she can't go far."
"The lass could be 'eaded 'ome, Jarod."
"Not possible, I have her passport," Jarod left the room and headed back down the stairs and toward the back of the inn to the kitchen. Upon entering he found Geilie and her young grandson, busy kneading dough for bread. Ian was covered head to toe in flour, and Geilie's cheeks were also white from the flour but one could tell that she'd been crying.
"Geilie?"
"Lad, yer lass be gone. Did Miss Marley tell ye tha'."
"Yes, Geilie, she did. What I need to know was there a letter, note, anything that would explain where she went or why?" Jarod looked into the older woman's grey eyes, hoping for that little glimmer of hope, but none came. Geilie shook her head and quickly returned her gaze to the little boy between them.
"Oh, Parker, " Jarod muttered and headed for the back door," Tell Marley that I'm going to go see Mairin at the hospital and then search around Inverness. I don't know when I'll be back, so don't wait up. If Mairin should come here looking for us, tell her to meet me back at St. Andrew's.
"Aye, lad. God speed. I 'ope yer find 'er."
The door slammed shut and Geile reached a hand inside of the pocket of her flour covered apron, her fingers curling around the letter that she'd found on the bed. She wished with all her heart that Violet was still alive, so that she could speak to her about the letter's contents. Evil had returned to Inverness the likes of which Geile hadn't seen or thought of in over thirty years. Not since Lachlan Abbott was found dead up at the Caer.
The night was cold, dark and rainy, as Jarod headed toward St. Andrew's. He watched the cars that passed him, hoping to see Parker's black sportster heading back toward Penfield's or perhaps stranded on the side of the road. He prayed desperately that she'd only went for a drive and that she had no memory of how to return had sought shelter somewhere. The night reminded him of the night not four days ago when he'd found her unconscious, with her car not in top condition the thought crossed his mind again. He pushed the panic away and stopped his car in front of Connor's pub.
***
A steady pelting of rain against his bedroom window woke Ethan from a restless sleep. Stumbling toward the bathroom door, he splashed some cold water on his face and then went in search of a bit to eat. Making his way down the hallway, he found himself standing in the middle of a large warm cozy parlor. A middle-aged man was busy stoking the blaze in the fireplace, his back to his guest.
"Excuse me," Ethan said softly.
"Sleep well, lad? Ethan, ye looked plum exhausted when ye arrived. I reckon ye might be a bit hungry, too? Liam MacDonald." the man said, extending his hand.
"Yes, yes I am," Ethan smiled and took hold of the extended hand, shaking it.
"Claire," Liam called out," the lad be hungry. Come sup with my daughter and I. Ye can tell me what brings ye to Fort William and Ben Nevis."
"My sister," Ethan started to speak, stopping to stare into the dancing flames of the fires, listening to the faint murmurs in his head, not realizing that he had spoken the word out loud.
"Kyle?"
"Aye, Kyle of Lochalsh."
"Of Lochalsh?"
"It's but three hours from here, lad. Ye can travel in this weather, though, it's a dark road in the rain, best leave in the morn'. Yer sister be safe."
"Safe." Ethan nodded, than took a seat at the table, accepting the bowl of piping hot soup.
The Truth Hurts
Part 16
by Michele
Margaret paced impatiently, waiting for Fergus to return to the Caer with the transmitter. It had served its purpose for the time being, and she wanted it back in her hands instead of attached to the headboard of Miss Parker's bed. But at this particular moment, Margaret had to exert her power back at the Centre. She reached for the telephone and hit the speed dial button and within moments of it connecting, a familiar voice answered.
"Parker, here."
"She's on her own."
"She left him."
"For the moment."
"Why?"
"Because I needed to seperate them, for a while. I wasn't the one that put this game in motion. You can thank Mr. Lyle for that. If he hadn't throw in with Alex, then none of this would be necessary. You need to keep him occupied, Parker. Miss Parker and Jarod are my concern, now. Put Lyle in charge of locating Mirage, but if I find him poking his nose where it doesn't belong, I can send his little world in to a tail spin if I choose. Don't make me do that! Do I make myself clear?"
"Of course. Can I send a sweeper team for Jarod?" Mr. Parker asked, a small hopeful smile on his features.
"And where would you like to send that sweeper team too?" Margaret laughed, " I know, Timbuktu. Where they are is my business. Have you discovered how they found that picture in the first place?"
"Not yet,"Mr. Parker responded, then paused briefly," How is my angel?"
"Oh that's rich, parental concern coming from you. She knows that you're not her father, Parker, thanks to Alex. That wasn't suppose to happen, at least not yet. I suppose that I should be grateful that Catherine didn't include that juicy tidbit of information in those journals of hers that I found, and obviously Jarod hasn't stumbled across it either."
"So you still believe that that information is still out there?"
"Of course, you old fool. Catherine knew the truth and somewhere there's a DSA along with the rest of her journals waiting to be found."
"You think that she's going to lead you to them, don't you? How is that possible, since you blocked her memories."
"Let's just say that she has something that should peak her curiousity, memory block or not. She'll lead me to them. I'll let you know when I have them, in the mean time, inform Lyle that the triumverate wants him to leave Miss Parker alone as well as my son. Locating and securing Ethan is much more pressing. My sources sighted him in Pennslyvannia, send Lyle there."
The static noise coming through his phone, indicated that the conversation was over. Instead of hanging up, he punched in a series of numbers and waited.
"Yes, Mr. Parker," the male voice on the other end replied.
"The call that just came through on my private line, did you etablished
the trace on it."
"Yes, sir, the trace was established but....." the technican stammered.
"But....." Mr. Parker demanded.
"Timbuktu, sir. That's where it was placed. Do you want to send a team?"
"No, it's not necessary. " He slammed the receiver into its cradle, muttering angrily when the door to his office burst open.
" Dad, where the hell is my sister?"
"Lyle, just the person I needed to see, the triumverate has an important assignment for you. Locating and returning Mirage." Mr.Parker came around his desk and placed an arm on his son's shoulder, heading back toward the door he just entered.
"I was about to leave for California, a lead on Jarod," Lyle stopped and stared, confusion clearly clouding his features.
"Sam will go. These orders came from the triumverate, Lyle. And don't worry about your sister, she's got her own assignment to complete for the triumverate."
"Then her so called vacation isn't really a vacation, is it?" Lyle quiered.
"No, business as usual."
"The hunt for Mirage, uh. Any clues as to where to look? At least we know that the Major and the boy are running around Mexico, couldn't you call Cox back to intiate the search and I'll go back down and take over for him."
"The triumverate specfically asked that you head up this search. There was a sighting in Pennslyvannia, check with Broots." Mr. Parker reached for the knob of his door and opened it, stepping out into the corridor with Lyle.
"Fine!" Lyle huffed and headed toward the elevator.
***
The owner stirred when he heard the crunch of tires on gravel. There was barely any light left in the sky, and he had just made a pot of tea and was reluctant to get up. But his curiosity got the better of him. Visitors to Kyle of Lochalsh seldom ventured out this late when the rains of October lashed the sky even though the historic coastal town on the Loch Garve was the starting point for the more colorful attractions and such on the Island of Skye. This night's weather was not fit for hound or human.
Peering through his gatehouse window, he saw a woman get off of the omnibus from Glenfinnan. Dressed for the weather, she had on a waterproof jacket, dark pants, and walking boots.
The owner watched the way the woman stepped away from omnibus and looked around, taking in her surroundings. Cautious like. She approached then opened the door and stepped into the foyer, oblivious to the loose strands of wet hair that hung limp around her face.
Shufflng into the foyer, Alasdair Ross stared at the young woman that stood before him. Something cold and sharp danced along his spine, making him shudder. She was in her mid-thirties, tall, with auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. Alabaster skin, high cheekbones and her eyes, blue like the sea.
She wasn't sure how long she had stood there, like an abandoned forgotten statue, or what had finally made her take a step.
"Catie?" Catie Jamison? Yer 'ere?" Alasdair stepped closer, realizing his mistake.
"Yer no Catie."
"No, my name's Miss Parker. The MacDonalds at Glenfinnan told me that you had a cottage I could rent. Some place quiet and remote from prying eyes."
"Yer be her twin. Sweet Catie. She 'asn't ben here in o'er twenty years. Parker, ye says, Catie was wedded to a Parker o'er the states. Where be me manners? Come warm yerself, 'ave a spot o' tea wiv me, please?" He extended a hand for the wet jacket and placed it on the brass coat rack next to the door.
"This Catie, you speak of, my mother was Catherine Jamison Parker, did you know her?" Miss Parker asked, taking a seat in the rocking chair next to the stone hearth.
"O' course, yer 'er daug'ter. She 'oped that one day, yer come to see Ceol Na Mara." the old man smiled, as he took a seat opposite of Parker.
"Ceol Na Mara?" Parker asked, Alasdair amazed at her gaelic pronounciation.
"Music of the Sea. The cottage, it be 'er place. I n't lettin' yer go there by yerself, yer miss it'n the dark, lass. Summink to eat, first. Yer to tell me w'y yer come?"
"I'm not sure why? After my car broke down in Glenfinnan, something told me to take the ominbus," Parker said, leaning back into the rocking chair.
***
Jarod woke with a start, someone was shaking his shoulder and talking to him rather excitedly. Palming his eyes, he looked up to find Marley staring down at him, her features twisted in panic.
"'ave ye seen Parker, Jarod?" Marley repeated.
"Not since this after the funeral, why?" Jarod was on his feet, quickly and heading toward the stairs. "She's suppose to be resting."
"She's no be in her room. Geilie be takin' a tray for her, it be empty." Marley reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder to still him. " Her auto be missin', too." Jarod slipped past Marley, taking the stairs two at a time, reaching the bedroom door, in record time. Not bothering to knock, he pushed the door wide open, and surveyed the room. He noted that the closet door stood open, as well as the armoire drawer for which he headed. Pulling it open even further, Jarod noted that his sweaters and shirts had been rifled through, and the envelope that contained the cash lay on top of them.
"She took her car," Jarod repeated the question to Marley.
"Aye, why?"
"There was still a problem with it, it wasn't running right. Rory was having trouble with it and wanted to replace the fuel injector system. This isn't good. You said that Geilie found the room empty, where's Geilie now?"
"She be in the kitchen wiv' Ian, bakin'. Ye need to go easy wiv her, Jarod. Grannie's death 'it 'er 'ard."
"All I want to know is if Parker left a note, something, anything. At least she can't go far."
"The lass could be 'eaded 'ome, Jarod."
"Not possible, I have her passport," Jarod left the room and headed back down the stairs and toward the back of the inn to the kitchen. Upon entering he found Geilie and her young grandson, busy kneading dough for bread. Ian was covered head to toe in flour, and Geilie's cheeks were also white from the flour but one could tell that she'd been crying.
"Geilie?"
"Lad, yer lass be gone. Did Miss Marley tell ye tha'."
"Yes, Geilie, she did. What I need to know was there a letter, note, anything that would explain where she went or why?" Jarod looked into the older woman's grey eyes, hoping for that little glimmer of hope, but none came. Geilie shook her head and quickly returned her gaze to the little boy between them.
"Oh, Parker, " Jarod muttered and headed for the back door," Tell Marley that I'm going to go see Mairin at the hospital and then search around Inverness. I don't know when I'll be back, so don't wait up. If Mairin should come here looking for us, tell her to meet me back at St. Andrew's.
"Aye, lad. God speed. I 'ope yer find 'er."
The door slammed shut and Geile reached a hand inside of the pocket of her flour covered apron, her fingers curling around the letter that she'd found on the bed. She wished with all her heart that Violet was still alive, so that she could speak to her about the letter's contents. Evil had returned to Inverness the likes of which Geile hadn't seen or thought of in over thirty years. Not since Lachlan Abbott was found dead up at the Caer.
The night was cold, dark and rainy, as Jarod headed toward St. Andrew's. He watched the cars that passed him, hoping to see Parker's black sportster heading back toward Penfield's or perhaps stranded on the side of the road. He prayed desperately that she'd only went for a drive and that she had no memory of how to return had sought shelter somewhere. The night reminded him of the night not four days ago when he'd found her unconscious, with her car not in top condition the thought crossed his mind again. He pushed the panic away and stopped his car in front of Connor's pub.
***
A steady pelting of rain against his bedroom window woke Ethan from a restless sleep. Stumbling toward the bathroom door, he splashed some cold water on his face and then went in search of a bit to eat. Making his way down the hallway, he found himself standing in the middle of a large warm cozy parlor. A middle-aged man was busy stoking the blaze in the fireplace, his back to his guest.
"Excuse me," Ethan said softly.
"Sleep well, lad? Ethan, ye looked plum exhausted when ye arrived. I reckon ye might be a bit hungry, too? Liam MacDonald." the man said, extending his hand.
"Yes, yes I am," Ethan smiled and took hold of the extended hand, shaking it.
"Claire," Liam called out," the lad be hungry. Come sup with my daughter and I. Ye can tell me what brings ye to Fort William and Ben Nevis."
"My sister," Ethan started to speak, stopping to stare into the dancing flames of the fires, listening to the faint murmurs in his head, not realizing that he had spoken the word out loud.
"Kyle?"
"Aye, Kyle of Lochalsh."
"Of Lochalsh?"
"It's but three hours from here, lad. Ye can travel in this weather, though, it's a dark road in the rain, best leave in the morn'. Yer sister be safe."
"Safe." Ethan nodded, than took a seat at the table, accepting the bowl of piping hot soup.
