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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer in part one
The Truth Hurts
Part 24
by N.R. Levy and paula h
Margaret stood in front of the mirror in her master suite at Abbott Hall and stared at her own face. Calm was the best way to describe her look. Good, she thought. At least I look more in control than I feel.
Huffing, she turned and crossed to her chaise, sitting down in a heap. The very idea that she felt caught off guard or annoyed was only serving to make her more angry and flustered, and Margaret knew that just would not do. Yes, Parker regaining her memory was an obstacle, but had there not been other obstacles that seemed just as great if not insurmountable in her building of the Centre's empire? The list seemed almost too long to think back on, yet Margaret forced herself to do so in order to gain some perspective. The list of those she had bent to her will, Edna, Mr. Parker, Mr. Raines, Charles, and those she had eliminated when their curiosity could not be quelled, namely Lachlan, all of these obstacles had been dealt with in the manner required, delivering more power and surety to Margaret's cause.
Yet there had been one person who had slipped through her grasp, one person of whom she had ultimately lost control despite all of the years of successful cultivation and manipulation - Catherine. Certainly she had made her "best friend" dance to her tune for years, but it had been Catherine's curiosity and the discovery of her unique gift that had caused the biggest threat to Margaret's plans. True, thanks to Raines' interference, Catherine had been eliminated, but Margaret had to face the reality that in this one particular instance, she had lost the upper hand.
History could not repeat itself with Catherine's daughter.
Parker would be coming to Abbott Hall, and Margaret had to formulate a plan to get the woman back under control. And it was a far more risky proposition now than it had been when she'd discovered the Parker heiress knee deep in things Margaret didn't want her to know. Taking command at the Caer had been a fairly simple task. Parker had been caught off guard, her shock at discovering Margaret's complicity in the web of lies that was the Centre putting her off her usual guard. But Parker would be prepared for her this time, and so Margaret had to prepare in kind.
The child was, of course, the ultimate bargaining chip. If Margaret could construct a way of making Parker believe the child was in jeopardy, she had no doubt that the woman would quickly fall into line with her wishes. That child would mean the world to Parker, and not for the practical reasons of its importance to the Centre. No, the emotional bonds of motherhood that Margaret had so successfully avoided had already taken firm hold of Parker. Foolish sentimentality, but Margaret was grateful that it was a tool she could use against her foe.
She did not doubt that Parker would come alone. Jarod would be feeling too protective over his newly reclaimed "family" to allow Parker to come hunting for Margaret on her own, but Parker also wanted to protect someone, and that someone was Jarod. The way she'd spoken at the Caer about not letting Margaret hurt Jarod any more had tipped her hand. Another mistake of sentimentality. The younger woman would wait until her lover was asleep or distracted and then slip away. She would be alone, and though armed with suspicion and her gun, she would be vulnerable in ways she had not yet imagined.
Perhaps...yes, that was it. Margaret couldn't take the risk of brainwashing Parker again. Not only was it possible to cause irreparable damage this time, the child could not be risked. But she could use Parker's own gift against her. Yes, it could still work again. There were drugs, drugs that wouldn't harm the child but would keep Parker off balance. She could use the modified device that had once been place in Parker's room at Violet Penfield's inn and use it now to convince Parker of two essential truths...the child's life was in danger, and going back to Blue Cove was the only means of protecting it.
Yes, that was definitely the course to pursue. Parker would leave Jarod behind if it meant saving their child, and Margaret could round up her wayward son while Mr. Parker subdued his daughter back in the states. Once Miss Parker was back in the Centre, Margaret would return Jarod to the state of blissful unawareness that had once made him so valuable to the Centre, and this time, Margaret would do what she had failed to do with Catherine. She would convince Miss Parker that her child was, indeed, expendable.
It made sense, even if she would never want to have to go through with the threat. It would cost the Centre time and money. But she would have both mother and father at her disposal, and if need be, her next pretender could be made in a test tube.
Margaret smiled and leaned back against the chaise for a moment. She could only allow herself a brief respite from her whirling thoughts before it was time to make preparations.
After all, she had company coming.
The hours of chasing after Jarod and dealing with Margaret's machinations had definitely exhausted Parker, and the feeling of falling asleep in Jarod's arms again after so much separation had lulled her into a deep and contented sleep within minutes of her climbing into bed.
For the first time in weeks, she slept without the whispers of her mother or Cameron trying to will her anywhere and without the dark, frightening dreams that Margaret's brainwashing had left her facing day in and day out. Tonight she had dreamed a far different dream, one with her lying in Jarod's arms by the tree swing in the woods near her home. Cameron was newly born, perhaps a few weeks old, and he lay on her chest as her arms held him securely in place.
This time, there was no appearance of Margaret, no evil cackle of laughter as she tried to take possession of their son. Parker felt only the warmth of Jarod's body surrounding her and the soft weight of her baby boy resting upon her. They were relaxed and happy and in love. They were at peace.
Yet even as she enjoyed the sweet image, Parker felt something tugging her to consciousness. It wasn't the voices of her inner sense, or a nightmare, but some vague sense of something missing kept pulling on the fringes of her mind, telling her to wake up. Finally she surrendered, her eyes fluttering open hesitantly in the still dark bedroom. It took less than a second for her to realize what was missing.
Jarod.
Parker refused to panic. She stretched and climbed from the bed, pulling on the heavy robe that Alisdair had lent her when she'd arrived quite unprepared for how cold it could be at night. Quietly, in case he'd gone to work and fallen asleep in the living room, Parker padded out in search of Jarod. It was only after she'd made certain he was nowhere in Coel Na Mara that her heart began to beat more rapidly.
Shedding the robe for warm clothes and a pair of tennis shoes, Parker quickly scrambled up the walkway to the inn. Lights were on in the kitchen, and it made her prepare to admit she was overreacting. Jarod's stomach had probably lured him back here for more food, that was all. She'd walk in and find him talking Lillias' ear off or working on the computer with Ethan. It would all be all right.
Parker reached the back door and turned it, strolling into the room. Instead of being greeted with the sight she'd hoped for, she instead met the solemn faces of Lillias and Ethan.
"Aunt Lillias, is Jarod..."
"He's gon', darlin'. Gon' off to find the truth about where he comes from."
Parker could not move; her mind was jammed with questions. Lillias put a warm hand on her suddenly numb shoulder and guided her into the kitchen, closing the door softly behind her. Parker faced her aunt, eyes wide with disbelief.
"He's gone? But I thought he accepted what we told him, that we were convincing him of the truth?" in a plaintive tone of voice.
"He did, lass, he did. But he canna' believe until he hears it from the devil's mouth. He had t' go, just as ye had t' go after him afor. Some things seem destined, like ye and Jarod finding yer love."
Parker's mind was not on love, it was numbed by fear. "But where will he go? How will he find her?"
"I expect he'll go t' the family home in Penrith, Abbott Hall.
"But, Lillias, She will DO something to him."
"He is forewarned and he is better prepared this time, armed with knowledge of what she is."
Ethan added, "He has his gun."
Parker smiled at her brother and sat beside him at the table. Lillias bustled at the counter, getting biscuits and tea. Ethan put his hand over Parker's and she patted it with her free hand. Her thoughts started racing. At least Jarod had the gun, not much protection against his mother's machinations but it was something. Maybe once he saw that she had sweepers guarding her he would wait. But wait for what?
"How long ago did he leave?"
"Less than an hour."
Parker nearly jumped from her chair. "I have to go. Aunt Lillias, I have to go after him."
"Well, child that won't be quite possible. Jarod took Ethan's car and yers is nae workin'. Alisdair's truck is old and it's snowing and the truck is nae that good in snow."
"I have to go now."
"Aye, lass, I knew ye would want to. I've been thinkin' on the best way. The best way, as I see it, is t' take the train t' Inverness and rent an auto there."
"The train? But that's too slow. Isn't there some way I can get a car here?"
Not at 6:30 in the mornin'. And before ye say it, Ye'll not be stealing me neighbors autos." Lillias smiled as she placed a cup of tea and biscuits in front of Parker. "Now eat and we'll keep ye company. Alisdair will be about in a wee bit and the train does na leave for an hour."
Parker nibbled at the food to please her aunt. She was not hungry and there was a knot of fear in her stomach, riding just above her precious son. All were silent and Parker did her best to fight back tears.
Soon, though not soon enough for Parker, Ethan escorted her back to Ceol Na Mara. She dressed in the same clothing she came in. Dark and practical, made for sneaking about in the woods if necessary. She made sure her gun was loaded, then secreted it in a small carryon bag. She did not want to loose her weapon to a spying conductor.
Alisdair was in the kitchen drinking a mug of tea, when they returned to the Inn. He finished it off and went down to warm up the truck. Ethan refrained from offering his company. He and Parker had already decided he would stay at the Inn. Lillias murmured a goodbye and hugged Parker tightly. The older woman's worry was clearly written on her face.
Parker nodded her farewell, she was afraid to use her voice. She joined Alisdair in the truck.
Alisdair smiled as Parker climbed into the cab and tried to make small talk. "I'm sorry, lass, the heater is not up to the weather change. It'll be a cold ride to the station, but at least it be short."
Parker smiled at him. "Aunt Lillias," the name still seemed odd, "gave me a heavy shawl for the train. There's hardly need for a heater at all."
"Aye. "Yer aunt knits well and it's good wool. I have something small t' give ye, meself." Alisdair handed Parker a map. "It's marked fer the way t' Penrith. We would do more if we could." Alisdair cleared his throat.
"I know."
Their conversation ended and they drove the rest of the way in silence. Once they arrived at the station, Alisdair gave Parker a quick hug and a pat on the back before she boarded the train, and waved her off as the train pulled away from the station. Then she was alone again.
Jarod drove Ethan's car just slightly faster than was safe for road conditions. Keeping the car out of ditches kept his mind off other things. Things he did not want to think about, like the truth.
Unfortunately the weather improved halfway to Glasgow. Jarod spent the next driving hours reviewing everything he knew, or thought he knew, about his mother.
Exhaustion finally caught up with Jarod and he nearly caused an accident by driving on the wrong side of the road just past Glasgow. He had not slept in thirty hours and was emotionally worn out. He pulled off the road by a small copse of trees and turned off the engine. He leaned his head against the window and lost consciousness. Half an hour later he woke, groggily wondering where the hell he was and how he wound up parked on the shoulder.
Jarod pulled the car back onto the highway and found a café. His eyes were still bleary and he was chilled from the cold that had seeped into the car. The most important item on the menu was coffee. He ordered food as an excuse for taking up a table and downed a cup of coffee as soon as it was cool enough to swallow. The roast beef sandwich remained untouched. For the first time he could remember, Jarod had no appetite at all.
A second cup followed the first before Jarod felt reasonably awake and warm. He took a bite of the sandwich. Although it was excellent he could barely swallow it. He put the sandwich down and nursed a third cup of coffee while he watched a mixture of rain and snow pelt the window. He wanted to call Lillias and check on Parker. He wanted to call Parker and tell her he was sorry he left her behind. But he knew that she would say he should not have left without her. He did it to protect her from the stress of another trip; she needed to rest. And he did it to protect his mother from the woman he loved. God, what if it was all true? He rubbed a hand over his face.
Jarod finally gave up pushing the sandwich around his plate and returned to the car. He knew Parker was following him. He knew it would have taken her a while to find a car, but she would come. He hoped she had slept in, and that she would drive safely for the baby's sake. He had to find out the truth about his mother before Parker came. He had to put the past to rest before they could move into the future. If he was going to do that, confront his mother alone and see how she responded, he needed to get moving. Jarod filled up the tank at the petrol station next to the café and got back on the road. He still had over an hour of driving ahead of him.
When Erin Gordon woke she felt like she was hung-over from getting falling-down-drunk the night before. Even though her mind was fuzzy she knew that was not the cause, she was sick, very sick. She looked toward the window and groaned. The sun was rising; that meant that she had to report in to Maggie Abbott and go back to the Inn. She could not seem to rouse herself out of bed; instead she burrowed down under the comforter and pretended it was still dark.
The next time Erin pushed her head above the covers it was daylight. By the angle of the light she estimated midmorning. The phone was ringing. Erin did not get many phone calls; she was not Lochalsh's most popular citizen. The ruffians who frequented her bar only called themselves friends if you had the cash to pay for it. She knew who was calling and reached for the phone. It stopped ringing. She no sooner covered her head than it started ringing again. This time Erin let the phone ring and went back to sleep.
Two hours later Erin flailed her way from under the comforter and grabbed the phone on the 20th ring.
"Yes?" she croaked.
"Where the hell have you been?!" Margaret demanded. "You are supposed to be available at ALL times! Where are you?"
"I'm sick, Ma'am. I'm too sick to get out of bed."
"I don't give a damn if you die standing in the street. Get your ass out of bed and over to the Ross place."
"Yes, Ma'am, I'll try."
"Now, damn it, or I'll be sending the police an interesting package." Margaret cut the call.
Erin hung up her phone and forced herself to sit up. She doubled over coughing. Damn that Maggie Abbott! This was her doing, and the witch did not care if she died doing her dirty work.
Erin got up, dressed and got herself a mug of strong tea. She was feverish and achy. The cellular phone was recharged so there was no acceptable excuse for not returning to spy on Kinlock Inn. Erin donned her coat and boots and stepped outside. She trod fresh footsteps into a thin layer of snow all the way from her bar to the alley across from the Inn.
Erin was unpleasantly surprised to see just Alisdair's truck parked at the Inn. The only tire tracks in the snow belonged to that vehicle. Someone had taken the car before the snow took hold. But who was gone and where were they going? This was not good.
Erin was desperate. The witch would not abide these unreported changes. She saw movement at the rear of the house. Someone was about. She made her way to the back door.
Lillias was sweeping snow off the back porch. Her frown made it obvious that Erin's presence was not wanted. Erin tried to slip past Lillias but her path was blocked.
Lillias rounded on Erin. "What do you want, Erin Gordon, comin fer a visit uninvited?"
"Why, Lilli, sweet girl, I was just concerned. I heard that ye came back; so fast too. I feared somewhat was wrong. But ye look fit. It woudna be that Alisdair took sick again would it?" Erin scanned the kitchen through the window. She needed to know who was in the house and who was gone.
"I've seen lights on and cars so I knew ye had company." Erin looked for the company over Lilias' shoulder. Her gaze settled on Ethan. "And fine looking company it is. Tis late in the year for tourists though."
"They're not tourists and they be none o' yer business. So ye can be off." Lilias put her hand on Erin's arm; Erin shook her off.
"Now, Lilli, yer wouldn't chase me off with out a bit o' tea or an introduction."
A booming voice came from the doorway, "She might not, but I would. Be off wi' ye, woman, or I'll show ye to the way wi' a shove at yer back." Alisdair came out the door.
"Well, well, I can see hospitality is not important at this inn. I'll be tellin' the tourists that fer sure, come times they ask me where t' stay." Erin huffed, turned on her heel and walked down the steps. She wanted to heave a final retort at them but her voice caught in a coughing fit and the door slammed shut before she could catch her breath.
Still, Erin was smiling as she crossed the parking area and slipped out of sight around the corner. She pulled out her cellular phone and punched in Margaret's number. The phone was answered on the fifth ring.
Maggie Abbott's voice was gruff, "What is it now?"
"It's Erin Gordon, Ma'am. I have a bit o' news." Erin paused to cough.
"Well?" impatiently.
"The lass came back last night, wi' a tall, dark man. I don't see either o' them now. Th' car they came in is gone."
"Why are you only telling me this now?"
"I told ye, Ma'am, that I be sick, and the phone was na' workin' last night."
"Two poor excuses. So now I know someone left, but not when and not who?"
"I canna be sure because I'm not welcome at the Inn it seems. But Lillias and Alisdair be home, and the other man, Ethan, is still at the Inn fer sure."
"Well, I guess that's better than nothing." The tone of Margaret's voice matched her words.
Erin shivered, not from the cold. "I'll ask around town a bit and see if I can find out somewhat more, if ye want, Ma'am."
"And I'll just wait and see who shows up on my doorstep." Margaret cut the call.
Erin put her cellular phone back in her coat pocket and trudged home to make herself a hot toddy before she started on the Englishwoman's business.
Parker pulled her gaze from the window of the train as it pulled into the Inverness station. The two-hour train trip had seemed an eternity, with nothing to do but worry. Why hadn't he talked to her, told her what he decided, stayed with her? Half an hour of total anger at Jarod for leaving her behind; half an hour of self-disgust because she slept through his leaving; and an hour of impatience with her lack of control over the train and the situation. She glanced down at the marked road map. The fastest route to Penrith was already imbedded in her memory. It was difficult to remain in her seat until the train came to a stop at the platform.
Parker's mind constantly rotated around how long it would take her to get to Abbott Hall. It was nearly 10:00AM and Jarod left Kyle of Lochalsh before 6:00. Even with bad weather he would get to Penrith in less than two hours. It would still take her almost four hours to get there, and that was with moderate breaking of traffic laws. She did not want to endanger Cameron and she did not want to have to outrun the police in a strange car on strange roads. That meant Jarod would be alone with his Machiavellian mother for two hours, and God knew what Margaret could do to him in that amount of time.
Parker caught a taxi to a car rental agency. They told her all roads south were wet and well salted. She chose their fastest available vehicle, a Saab, found the nearest onramp, and pushed the pedal to the metal.
Margaret dropped her cellular phone onto the table beside her chaise. The conversation with Erin was not overly informative but it did tell her that Parker was coming, and much sooner than she expected. Margaret had wanted to speak with - manipulate - Parker alone. Jarod's presence would complicate matters, but not insurmountably. At least Ethan was not with Parker, even if Jarod was.
Margaret was a little worn out from the week's travels and skirmishes. She contemplated returning to the nap from which Erin woke her. Instead she called her butler, Nigel and told him to bring up coffee. Then she beeped Buchan, the sweeper-in-charge. He and the tea came to her suite a few moments later. She told him that Parker was coming and that it was up to him to coordinate and send out sentries to watch for her arrival. Margaret emphasized her demand for discretion. She did not want the neighbors to know who she really was any more than she had wanted Jarod and Parker to know who they were all these years. In addition she did not want Parker to know she was expected; more specifically, she did not want Jarod to know Parker had told him the truth. Seeing that she had her own sweepers guarding Abbott Hall would prove it. Margaret sipped her coffee and smiled ruefully; yes, the poor boy was definitely going to be disillusioned.
After dismissing the sweeper to fulfill his duties, Margaret decided to exchange her mommy dearest trapping for a power suit. She had to keep the upper hand in the impending confrontation. Parker had been so much easier to manipulate when she was younger. They had molded her and educated her, but they couldn't seem to eliminate that softness she inherited from her mother. A shame. At least she had inherited her mother's gift, the reason her father had married Catherine in the first place. He'd convinced Catie that he loved her; it became true after a fashion in later years. But the Parkers knew that power was more important than love and sacrifices had to be made to reach goals. The elder Parker was getting a bit soft as he aged, but Margaret had no intention of weakening, and her goal was getting nearer by the moment.
Just short of Penrith, Jarod pulled Ethan's car off the road and hid it. He could see the roofs of the town over the winter-bare trees. It would not be sensible to drive up to the gates of Abbott Hall. Assuming his mother was there, he would either endanger her or - if Parker was right - himself. Discretion was the better course. He hopped a ride on the back of a lorry hauling hay and used the bales for cover.
The truck had barely gone a mile before Jarod saw a dark car on the side of the road. The suited driver appeared to have engine problems. He was older than when Jarod saw him at The Centre, but Jarod remembered the sweeper. Jarod had been fourteen; Sydney was taking him to be inspected by some visiting triumvirate dignitary. The man was on the elevator when they entered. Jarod had noted his visitor nametag. Sydney had politely asked if the man was enjoying his stay in Blue Cove. The man replied in what Jarod now knew was a Scottish accent, that it seemed a bonny little town but he preferred London himself. The wording and accent had caught Jarod's fancy but the man's unusually long face and nose made him easily recognizable when he glanced up at the passing lorry. Being right about the need for secrecy did not please Jarod. The Centre was waiting for someone, who remained to be seen, but Jarod was determined to remain unseen until he saw his mother. He jumped off the truck when it stopped at an intersection, and waved thanks to the driver.
Abbott Hall sat on a rise to one side of Penrith, just before a wooded area and fields. There were several grand old houses in the vicinity; obviously the moneyed gentry had gravitated to that corner of the town. The majority of the estates were in good repair. Abbott Hall was not the largest nor the smallest, it was set apart mainly by position on the rise and the wonderfully ornate gates that secured its driveway. Jarod made his way via alleys and side streets; then circled behind through the woods.
A fine cold drizzle started. Jarod climbed a leaning tree tangled with vines for a look inside the wall. No one was patrolling the perimeter and the house had no obvious surveillance equipment. It appeared to be - was - the family's peaceful manor; a refuge that The Centre had not defiled. Jarod saw movement at window and slid off the tree. He moved a few yards down the wall and climbed over it. Dropping into some bushes he moved quickly to the house.
Margaret was ready for Parker. She was over-ready, and wasting adrenaline on pacing. She decided to leave her suite and go downstairs. Settling in the dining room, she scanned a few Centre reports. She had the cook make her a pot of Earl Grey and a small plate of biscuits. She was considering a short walk around the grounds when a light rain put an end to the idea. She had no intention of appearing bedraggled when Parker arrived. Margaret took her cup of tea and walked to the window. The grounds looked well kept even in winter, but the woods beyond the wall were overgrown. Before she left she would tell Nigel to speak to the farmer who owned the property and offer to have the trees thinned a bit. He could, naturally, keep the wood. She finished her tea and was about to turn away from the window when she noticed movement in a tree. Too large to be a cat; black panthers had not migrated to Britain, and Parker was not one to climb trees; Margaret knew who it was. She put her cup on the table, put on her raincoat, and went out onto the courtyard to meet him.
Jarod was impatient to get to the house so he forced himself to be doubly cautious. He froze when he heard the sound of a door opening. He counted to a hundred before he moved to a better vantage point. There was a woman standing on the veranda, scanning the grounds as though seeking something or someone. She had her hood up but he knew it was his mother. He wanted to run to her instantly but hesitated, not knowing why. After a few moments he stood and walked out of the bushes.
When she saw him, Margaret smiled and took a step toward him. He knew she had been watching for him. He came to her and stood tentatively wondering what to do or say.
Margaret hugged him. "Oh, Jarod, I was worried about you. I'm sorry I ran away, but I was just so frightened. I knew you would find the Hall, I hoped you would come." She looked over her shoulder. "Is Parker with you?" she asked in her best concerned voice.
"No, I left her..." he trailed off, not sure he should involve the Rosses.
"Left her? Did you have an argument?" Margaret put worry into her voice while she thought 'that would make things a bit easier.'
"No, Mom, we're fine. I just thought she needed a rest. But I'm pretty sure she won't be pleased." Jarod half-smiled.
"Well, I know you made the best decision possible. She should trust you." She paused. "Maybe The Centre has ruined her ability to trust?"
Jarod's smile disappeared. He knew how difficult it was for either of them to trust after their upbringing. But Parker trusted him, didn't she? And he had betrayed that trust by coming here without her, without even explaining.
Satisfied with his reaction, Margaret changed tacks. "Are you all right? Come inside, Baby, you look half-frozen." She bustled him into the house. "Let's go into the den where we can talk." She pushed the hood off her head but kept the long coat.
Jarod looked around as they walked through several rooms. The cook spared them a glance when they passed through the kitchen; there did not seem to be anyone else in the house. He looked at the woman confidently striding ahead of him, head held high. "Are you sure you're safe here?"
Margaret turned and smiled. "Yes, Jarod, in this place I'm perfectly safe," She could not keep a note of smugness out of her voice. She knew Jarod caught it by the way his shoulders twitched. She decided to let it ride; there was no way he could escape from Abbott Hall. Nigel and the cook knew to contact her sweepers when an unannounced visitor appeared. The sweepers would close the net. Now she had an even better bargaining chip then a potential child.
Margaret guided her son to a windowless, mahogany paneled room. Two walls were shelved with books; a large stone fireplace took up a third. "This is one of my favorite rooms. Let's get that coat off and get you warm." Jarod took the coat off but kept it. She settled him in a wingchair by the fire. "Jarod, baby, are you hungry?"
Jarod shook his head no, unable to take his eyes off the seemingly transformed woman.
"Well, you definitely need a hot cup of tea." She smiled, patted his arm and left the room.
He gazed at the door after her exit, trying to correlate what he thought he knew about his mother with what Parker told him and what he was seeing. For some indefinable reason, something about his mother in Abbott Hall, he was starting to believe Parker. Could it be that The Centre had poisoned them so completely they had to doubt everyone's motives; misinterpret their actions? Jarod rubbed a hand across his forehead; he was so tired.
Margaret tore off her coat and threw it in a corner. She was sure Jarod had a weapon in his coat and she had wanted to get it away from him. She was sure she was in no danger from him but it would be inconvenient if he started shooting up the Hall.
She strode into the kitchen to find the Buchan blocking the outside door. She told the cook to get tea ready before she turned to the sweeper. "I want to know how he got in here without your knowing it and I want to know where he left the car. Then I want the car brought here." She paced the kitchen while she spoke. "And I DON'T want Miss Parker waltzing in here unannounced. If she'd come over that wall she could have shot me before you idiots woke up." She stopped and looked out the back window for a moment. "Put Fergus on the car search. Get the rest of them back here; put two outside the den." Margaret walked back to the sweeper. "If Jarod decides he doesn't want to be here I want him stopped. If any of your idiots screw this up, you're dead." She punctuated the last with a finger to the man's chest.
He nodded, knowing better than to speak when she was in this kind of mood.
Margaret took the tea tray and left the room without another word. She set the tray down briefly on the dining room table and pressed her finger into the center of her forehead. She was getting tired of this dance. She needed to decide how to best control Jarod; she was tempted to just drug him. Instead she straightened her suit, checked her hair in the mirror, picked up the tray and went to tell her son the truth about his mother.
Jarod turned as his mother entered the room. She shut the door behind her and set the tray on a small table just behind Jarod's chair. She poured him a cup of tea, handed it to him, and sat on the arm of a wingchair that matched his.
Jarod held the delicate teacup in both hands. He looked down at it but did not take a sip.
"Drink it, Jarod, and then we'll talk," she encouraged.
When Jarod looked up he saw her as she really was. He had never seen her dressed in a tailored suit with her hair pinned up and back. The woman he was looking at was not a simple loving mother; she was a Centre psychologist; a woman of confidence and great power. Parker's words came back to him, the things she had endured, trapped and helpless, at the hands of ... this woman. The Margaret Abbott in front of him was capable of inflicting that torment. She had been waiting for him on the veranda; she had manipulated him all along. He shivered.
Margaret noted his look and the shudder; she went for concern. "Jarod, baby, you need to drink the tea."
"Is it drugged?"
"What?" So he believed.
"Is the tea drugged? Will I drink it and wake up tomorrow back at The Centre?" He put the cup down hard enough to rattle.
"How can you ask me that?" She feigned shock, wanting to see how much he really knew.
"It's true, isn't it, Mother?" Suddenly the word tasted bitter on his tongue. "I've been blind. It's all true, everything Parker told me. You drugged her and took her memory. You've been playing with us all our lives."
"I have never played with you, Jarod," she replied coolly. "I've done what was necessary, for a higher purpose. You may not understand it, but this has never been a game."
"Understand?" His voice cracked slightly with emotion. "How can I understand? You pretended to love me, you pretended to love Dad and want us to be a family and all the time, ALL the time, you only cared about The Centre."
"Love is highly overrated. It gets in the way of many things. Power is what's important. I know you deny it but I've seen you enjoy power over others. You're just a little too nice, a little too soft to wield it properly.
"That negative aspect must go along with some of the genes for pretender ability. You got most of them from your father. You got the rest from my side of the family. Your Uncle Lachlan had some ability and the same softness." The smug look returned to her face. "Those genes are why The Centre recruited me. They thought they could use me like they did Catherine, but I saw through them and saw what The Centre could do. Catherine did, too, but she was too soft. We kept her around as long as we could, until she became too much of a liability. But she did produce the daughter who is the future of The Centre. The next Chairperson and the one who will bring The Centre to its rightful place."
Jarod stared at her. He felt as though his blood had turned to ice.
"Not that you haven't been valuable. You have no idea how much revenue we made from your pretends and from the adaptations other, lesser pretenders did using your seminal work. I'm actually quite proud of your accomplishments." She put her hand on his wrist.
"Liar." He threw off her hand.
"No, that's true. The loving mommy role was just for effect, but I have always appreciated your talent. And I must add that I appreciate your recognition of the truth, I was not looking forward to a maudlin confession."
"What am I to you?" his voice was bitter.
"The prince consort, my dear, and father to the next generation."
Jarod felt bile rise in his throat. He had come into the spider's parlor and probably dragged Parker and their baby after him. He'd played right into this spider-woman's plans. He reached into his coat and felt for his gun. "How will my shooting you affect your plan?" he threatened.
"You won't do it, Jarod." Margaret smiled smugly. "You forget how long I've been watching you, son. You may want to use that gun in your coat but you just don't have the heart for it."
Jarod stared at her. He hated her, wanted to kill her before she could hurt Parker or his son, but she was his mother and he could not harm her. She was right; he was too weak. He released the gun.
Margaret knew she had won. "Are you willing to be reasonable?"
"I won't help you." Jarod's voice had a kind of tired bitterness that spoke surrender. He turned away from her to stare at the fire.
"I don't really require any help." She stood.
Jarod's head snapped around.
"Actually, you have already helped by coming here without your woman. Parker will be coming along to 'rescue' you again. We'll be having a little talk and she will see the light, or someone may have to die."
Jarod started to rise. "I won't let you hurt her."
"Spare us the heroics, Jarod. I have no intention of killing her. As I said, she's the future Chairperson of The Centre. But, I assure you, she will choose power before any of us leave here. Now, give me that gun." She held out her hand.
Jarod turned away defiantly.
"I can call four burly sweepers with tasers. You've experienced that already, haven't you? This is a no win situation for you, Jarod. Take your loss and save yourself injury. There are two sweepers outside this room; they'll escort you to a comfortable cell in the basement for the duration. I promise to talk to you later."
"Don't bother. I never want to see you again." Jarod dropped his coat on the chair and walked ahead of his mother to the door.
Jarod opened the door and confirmed that his mother had told him the truth this time. Two sweepers stood at attention opposite the door; two more, with tasers, blocked the front door and he could see more at the dining room arch. He considered trying a break for it anyway. He wanted so badly to keep Parker from coming here. He was a pretender and he knew there was no chance he could make it, but every muscle screamed for a try.
The nearest sweepers tensed as Jarod exited the room. Margaret gestured a negative and they took positions on either side of Jarod. One put a hand on his arm and Jarod ripped it away. That was all the trigger his adrenaline-saturated nerves needed. He punched the offending guard square in the face, turned and backhanded the opposite man. The first sweeper made a move to grab the pretender and he elbowed him before he gave sweeper two a glancing blow to the chin and punched him in the gut. Sweeper one caught Jarod's arms while the second recovered and started in for payback. One of the taser-armed sweepers moved toward the struggle.
Margaret intervened. "Enough! Jarod, enough! Stop it now! All of you stop it." She ordered.
Jarod stopped struggling. He stared at the carpet, breathing heavily.
The sweepers looked to Margaret for orders.
"Release him."
They did as she told them. Jarod glared at Margaret so coldly that even she felt the chill and turned away. "You two get him out of here. And keep your hands off him."
Jarod silently allowed the sweepers to shepherd him to the basement.
Margaret returned to the den and removed the gun from Jarod's coat. She checked his key ring; the small silver key was not there. Parker must have it again. Margaret was tired of this absurd version of Monkey-in-the-middle. It hardly mattered now that Jarod knew who she was. There were a few things she preferred he never learn. She had seen the results of his anger and he would be angry if he knew everything she had done.
She held the coat for a moment then draped it across the back of the chair where Jarod had been sitting. Jarod's hatred was no surprise. It was expected, 40 years in the coming; it made no difference in the scheme of things. But the small ache his look had caused in her heart surprised her. She smiled slightly, uncertainly, and then shook her head. It was a tad late for maternal emotion. She smoothed the coat and left the room.
The head sweeper, Buchan, was waiting for her, leaning against the back of the couch where the other two had stood. "Did I miss anything?" he asked. Years of working for her allowed that much informality. Years of good work allowed him to survive the day's blunders.
"Nothing useful. I assume your presence here means we have a secure perimeter this time?"
"Yes, we found a lorry driver that gave him a ride into town." He conveniently left out the fact that the truck drove right past him and he had not checked it. "Jarod was alone when the man picked him up. An Internet search showed that Miss Parker rented a Saab in Inverness at 10:30 this morning. We located the car using its theft tracking system. At her current rate of speed she will be here in an hour; I have the helicopter up to keep an eye on her. She's driving a bit too fast for conditions."
Margaret nodded approval. "That's her usual driving. And Jarod's car?"
"Should be coming in the front gate as we speak." He held out the coat Margaret had thrown on the dining room floor.
She took it with a half-smile. The man took too many liberties. He probably felt he earned them because of the extra services he provided her on the occasional night. Perhaps later she would reprimand him for the impropriety.
Fergus pulled the car into the drive as Margaret walked out the front door. He drove it up to her and got out.
Margaret contemplated for a moment, tapping her chin with a finger then came to a decision. "Park the car in the driveway in plain view. Leave the gates open. Fergus, you greet Miss Parker on the porch."
Fergus did as he was told.
Margaret went to her rooms for a short time then to the den. She called Nigel. He arrived shortly after and stood silently waiting while she turned on a small screen with video feed from Jarod's cell.
Jarod sat on the bed with his face in his hands. As though he could feel the weight of his mother's observation, he looked up at the video camera. At least the woman had the decency to make his surveillance obvious. Not like when he thought he had some privacy while The Centre recorded his every move. He noted the light was on now and assumed that was for Parker's benefit.
He stood and the camera followed the motion. He had already examined his quarters. They were small, clean, no window, small ventilation shafts and one reinforced door. When the door opened briefly for someone to bring in bottled water and a coffee carafe he saw at least three sweepers. Jarod had smiled at his mother's precautions, she may have played him for a fool but she did not underestimate him.
Jarod could not find any fault he could use to his advantage so he would have to wait and hope something presented itself. Present? Yes, he had made his mother a present of himself and dragged Parker and their son in with him. "God damn it," Jarod said aloud as he spun around in the middle of the room. "God damn me!" he yelled and punched the wall. The plasterboard crumbled, revealing a stone wall behind it, now stained with a bit of his blood.
Jarod stared at his hand. There was something satisfying about the self-inflicted damage. When the pain set in he stalked into the bathroom and ran cold water over his knuckles until the bleeding stopped. Once his hand was numb Jarod returned to his former position on the bed. He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the camera.
Margaret watched the entire process. Satisfied, she turned to Nigel. "How long till she arrives?"
"Ten minutes or less."
"I'll wait for her here; she comes in alone. Tell Fergus to stop at the door. Everyone stays out."
"Everyone, Madam, are you sure that's wise?" Nigel was concerned.
"Everyone. I'll allow Buchan to listen in," Margaret held up a small microphone, "during initial negotiations. I expect to be in control of the situation but it's better to be cautious. I don't want Miss Parker injured, at least for the present. If there's a problem, he and only he may intervene."
Nigel nodded.
"Now, bring a pot of tea and a tray of biscuits. I want it in here before Miss Parker pulls in."
Nigel nodded again and left the room.
Margaret settled herself in the wingchair. She glanced from Jarod's coat on the opposite chair to the screen where she could see his face. Yes, this would do nicely. She relaxed into the chair and contemplated the fire.
Parker saw the helicopter long before she got to Penrith. She had visualized a surprise entrance, gun in hand, and a look of shock and dismay on Margaret's face just before she blew her brains out. But she never really expected it. Parker refused to think about what she really expected; she concentrated on keeping the car within waving distance of the speed limit and various scenarios of Margaret's death.
A black sedan replaced the helicopter just as she entered Penrith. She caught a glimpse of the driver before he took a position her six. She recognized him. She had seen him giving orders to other sweepers at the Caer, but she knew him before that. She had first seen him when she was a girl, in her father's office. He had reappeared intermittently over the years. She recalled that Daddy had never been pleased to see him or the person he accompanied.
Now she understood that Margaret Abbott was the person who upset her father, perhaps even frightened him. If she were honest she would admit that Margaret frightened her. When she thought about what happened at the Caer she nearly gagged on her fear, but that would not stop her from walking into Abbott Hall and taking her life back.
When Parker pulled up to the open gates and saw Jarod's car she felt her anger rising. She pushed it back down. That was the reaction the witch wanted, her too angry to think straight.
Parker skirted Jarod's car and pulled up to the front door. The black sedan pulled in behind her and the sweeper closed the gate. An older man rose from a chair on the porch and came to the driver's side door. He opened the door and stood back. Parker remembered seeing him at various times around Inverness, perhaps at the Caer, some things were still unclear; he was somber and non-threatening.
Parker got out of the Saab and the man closed the door.
"Fergus," he said, putting a hand to his chest. "I've been told t' escort ye t' the Mistress."
Parker nodded.
"I'm sorry, lass, she has him in there somewhere, in one o' her rooms. And she be waitin' fer ye."
Parker nodded again.
Sweepers flanked the front door and waited inside. Fergus guided her to the den and opened the door. He dropped his head as she passed and shut the door behind her.
Parker took in her surroundings quickly. Her gaze came to rest on the video screen and Jarod. He was just sitting there, staring at the camera. He knew she was coming and, by the look of self-disgust and despair she read on his face, he knew what his mother was.
Margaret herself was sitting in a wingchair by the fire. Her back was to the room but her legs were visible. Parker pulled out her gun.
Margaret heard the sound of metal against leather and smiled, unseen by Parker. "If you shoot me, you die."
"You first."
"Watch the screen." Margaret picked up a small cordless phone and spoke into it without turning away from the fire. "A small demonstration please."
On screen, Jarod sat forward and looked at something off screen. A hand appeared and backhanded Jarod across the face. He fell sideways and came up ready to fight. The camera range widened to show three sweepers in the room. Two quickly pinned Jarod's arms behind him; the third flexed his fists and punched his palm.
Parker went ridged, "Don't."
"Good. At least you realize I'm willing to do what's necessary. The question is, are you?"
"You think this is necessary?" Parker asked with disbelief. "What could possibly make this necessary? What do you want?"
"I want, I need, you to take your place in The Centre." Margaret replied. She spoke into the phone, "Enough for now. Get out." She put the phone down and spoke to Parker. "Sit down. We need to come to an agreement." She reached beside her on the couch and turned off the microphone that transmitted to Buchan. The preliminaries were over.
Parker watched the sweepers release Jarod and leave the room. He looked at the camera as though he could see her and shook his head negatively. He returned to the bed, this time sitting sideways to the camera and closing his eyes. Parker knew how tired he was of being a Centre tool, especially one used against her.
Parker strode tensely to the wingchair with Jarod's coat draped over its back. She stroked the garment as she passed. She sat, stiffly upright compared to the seemingly relaxed woman in the other chair. Her gun remained in her hand in her lap.
Margaret turned to face Parker. "You have choices to make. They are limited and you have to make them now."
"Choices." Parker doubted she would like any of them.
"Basically, your child or its father."
The hair went up on the back of Parker's neck. "What do you mean?"
"There are several possible scenarios. One, you come back of your own freewill and take your place at the helm of The Centre. Jarod comes with us. I wipe his memory and he goes back to what he does best, pretending.
"Two, I abort the pregnancy and wipe both of your memories. You come back to The Centre. Jarod is released elsewhere and the chase continues.
"Three, I take you back against your will. Allow your pregnancy to come to term, take the child and raise him or her to take your place. The process can be repeated as necessary. Oh, and in this scenario, Jarod is not particularly necessary; semen can be frozen.
"These scenarios have one thing in common, you are coming back to The Centre. That is non-negotiable."
"You can go to Hell."
"No doubt. But I'm giving you the power of life and death, the ultimate power and you must make a choice."
Parker's hand tightened on the gun; she thumbed the safety off. "I should kill you right now."
"Jarod made the same suggestion. That would actually be a fourth scenario. And remember, if I die Jarod dies and you will not be raising his heir."
Parker reset the safety and released her hold on the gun. "What if I refuse to decide?"
"That is a choice in itself. Allow me to point out the basic differences in these arrangements, in case they are a bit too much for you to grasp. If you want both Jarod and your child to survive you must cooperate with me and become the next Chairperson of The Centre. If you want Jarod and don't give a damn about the baby, you can continue chasing him until you get tired of it and take the desk job some time in the future. If you have some sort of Romeo and Juliet delusions or just want to be stubborn, you loose everything. And The Centre raises the child you will never know."
Parker felt Cameron's presence keenly within her. He had no choice in this; he was hers to protect. The bitch had them in a vise. "If. If I decide to join forces with you," she nearly gagged on the words, her mouth was so dry, "what then?"
"Then you will learn the true uses of power. And when you prove to me that you can be trusted with that power you'll have it."
"What about my son?"
"It's a boy? Congratulations. He will have quite a legacy."
"I don't give a damn about that legacy. I want him to know his father."
"Did Jarod know his father? Do you really know yours? He is never to know who his father is. The Centre will be his father and mother, whether figuratively or literally is up to you."
Parker stared silently at the older woman; then turned away. She wanted so badly to kill her, end this all right now. She knew there was an afterlife because she heard her mother's voice. She and Cameron were already connected and would know each other despite anything Margaret did. And she knew they would all be reunited in the next world, some time in the future. But Margaret was right; it was a bit too Shakespearean. She wished she could call on her mother's voice; she needed to hear it now.
Parker stared at the fire and tried to find another alternative. There literally were none. Margaret had spelled it out. There was only agony, and no reason to prolong it.
"Yes, I will go back to The Centre...willingly."
"Good. I won't gloat about it, Parker, it was the only intelligent decision." Margaret nodded sincere approval. "Now for the rest of the rules."
"I will have Jarod's memories of this period expunged. This is the last time I am willing to do so. Further treatments could cause cognitive damage, making him useless to The Centre except for genetic material.
He will be returned to The Centre and his duties. You are never to have contact with him, except in the most formal sense. Any personal contact will result in his death. Is that clear?"
Parker nodded.
Margaret continued, "You will not tell him the child is his. If he should discover that truth, Jarod and/or the child will be removed from The Centre. This means that your faithful trained monkeys had better keep their mouths shut or you loose. You are responsible for their education on that. It would also be advisable that they never learn about our agreement. As far as they're concerned you've finally come to your senses and dropped the lab rat.
"If Sydney feels he can adequately manage Jarod and re-establish clinical objectivity he will be allowed to supervise his former protégé. If he cannot, he will be reassigned with no prejudice. Raines may want take over the job..." Margaret paused, suddenly thoughtful, "but I think I might. It's been a long while since I've had time to do any research.
She returned her attention to the subject at hand. "If - and this is very tentative - you prove yourself to be the leader you were bred to be, there may be a time when you will be allowed to rekindle your sexual relationship with Jarod, should you still want to. I think you will find using him an interesting juxtaposition of roles."
Parker was totally speechless. She found herself gripping the gun too tightly and forced her hand to relax.
Margaret studied the younger woman for a moment. "Now for the first action to prove your commitment to the deal you will go down to Jarod's cell and tell him your decision. You will not tell him the reasons, just the facts. This will be your last contact with him. Do you understand?"
Parker took a second to regain the power of speech. "I have to tell him? I want to explain. You're going to wipe his memory anyway, at least let me explain."
"No, this is part of the deal."
Just a part of the deal, Parker thought, and she had to destroy the rest of Jarod's dreams. God, this was more than he could take; more than she could take. Jarod would think she was sending him back.
Margaret did not rush Parker. They sat and watched the fire slowly die. Parker leaned back against Jarod's coat and breathed in the scent of leather and him. She kept one hand on the gun; the other rested on her slightly rounded stomach and the son who might never know his wonderful father.
When the flames had died and the logs become an almost molten turmoil, matching her thoughts, Parker rose from her chair. She felt the gun in her hand. If she was careful she could slip it to Jarod. He could at least make his own decision...
As though she read Parker's mind, Margaret said, "Leave the gun."
Parker placed her gun on a side table and stroked Jarod's coat in passing. Chills ran up her spine as she turned her back on Margaret and walked out of the den.
The man who called himself Fergus was gone. The sweeper from the car, she would learn his name later, waited for her beside the couch.
Buchan spoke first. "I will escort you to your rooms. There's a selection of more appropriate clothing and toiletries. You may wish to freshen up before meeting with Jarod."
Meeting, Parker thought, what a poor description of what she was about to do to the man she loved. She followed Buchan up the grand staircase in the front hall.
Margaret remained in her wingchair for several moments, contemplating. She groaned as she pushed herself off the chair. Winter in Britain made her feel she was getting too old for this espionage routine. It would be good to get back to Blue Cove and take her rightful place at the helm of The Centre.
Margaret walked over to the video screen and turned on the sound. She wanted to watch.
Miss Parker's quarters were well appointed but all she noticed were the windows. They were not barred. She could see the woods and fields beyond the wall; if she did not know the truth, she could imagine she was still in Scotland and none of this had happened.
There was a small selection of short-skirted suits and tailored pants outfits neatly hung in the cupboard. Matching shoes and boots were lined up below. All had come from her house in Blue Cove.
Parker chose a looser pantsuit and low boots, and was pleased to find that they fit. She went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face and smoothed her hair. Someone had also brought her makeup in her usual Centre palette. She applied it heavier than she had for a while and looked at herself. The Ice Queen was back. She almost started crying.
There was a bottle of Chanel on the counter. Parker reached for it as a matter of habit but then changed her mind. Jarod loved that perfume; she did not want it to become a part of his nightmares.
Buchan awaited Parker where she left him, leaning against the wall opposite her door. He nodded approval for her transformation as he pushed himself away from the wall. He led her down two flights of stairs to the basement and stopped at the bottom.
Parker continued down the hall. She knew her destination by the sweepers blocking the door. They parted when she got there. She took a deep breath and entered Jarod's cell.
Jarod's head came up when the lock clicked. His first glimpse of Parker brought him to his feet and a step toward her. His heart literally skipped a beat he was so relieved that she was safe.
Parker walked tentatively into the cell. She had planned to stride in confidently but her legs did not oblige. When she looked at Jarod coming toward her, and saw his childish loving expression, she almost lost her nerve. "I'm sorry, Jarod," Parker stopped before her voice cracked.
Jarod stopped. He studied her. She looked hopeless for a moment, almost frightened, and then the iron mask came over her face and he knew she was lost to him. He stood still, waiting for the sword stroke he knew she would deliver. "Just tell me, Parker, what's happened? What are you going to do?"
Parker saw realization on his face and fear and, finally, acceptance of the fact that she was Centre property once again; they all were. She ignored the first question. She steeled her will and forced ice into her voice. "I'm sorry, Jarod, I've decided to return to Blue Cove and The Centre."
Jarod was incredulous. "Going back? Why?" Then he grew angry. "She's making you do this. What's she done? What's she threatened?"
"I'm doing this because I've decided to. I cannot spend the rest of my life chasing a dream around the world or running from The Centre. It could never have worked. You tried for freedom, but you couldn't completely separate. You dragged me into your dream and for a while I believed it. Margaret pointed out the futility of that dream and the reality I might throw away." Unconsciously Parker's hand migrated to her waist. "I'm going back to prove myself to Margaret and my father. I need to atone for my stupidity."
"So I was," Jarod motioned between them, "what we shared was stupidity?"
"I made a mistake."
"Our son is a mistake?" Jarod was anguished.
"My son will inherit The Centre. I'll give him what he needs to survive. He will be strong and he will understand power. I will raise him as a Parker."
"He's ours, Parker!" Anger began to creep back into his voice. "The Centre can't have him; you said so. I won't let you..."
"You are in no position to 'let me' do or not do anything, Jarod. Look around you. I will not have MY son follow in your footsteps. He won't be raised without a mother or spend his life running."
"No, he'll be raised without a father; by a mother who aspires to be just like mine," he snarled.
"So be it. That's the way it is and you won't have to worry about it."
Parker turned on her heel and exited the room, slamming the door behind her. When she was halfway down the hall she had to lean against the wall. She thought she was going to collapse. Buchan appeared from somewhere and steadied her until she was stable enough to shake him off. She forced herself to walk up the two flights of stairs unassisted and closed the door in his face. She locked the door and collapsed on the bed.
After Parker left him Jarod sputtered and fumed. He almost punched the wall again but when he made a fist pain lanced through his hand, and through his thoughts. He turned to the camera and swore. He called his mother and Parker more names than he thought her knew. Then he threw himself onto the bed and turned his back to the room.
Margaret smiled. Today had gone quite well. Jarod definitely believed Parker. He might doubt her veracity later when his anger cleared and he was rested, but for the present he thought she had lied to him about their relationship.
Parker had done quite well, very believable. Margaret intended to remember that when she weighed Parker's commitment to The Centre and their deal.
Margaret walked back to the side table and pressed a call button. She stood, one hand fondling Jarod's coat, and watched the dying fire collapse upon itself.
Nigel entered the den and stood in the center of the room, behind Margaret.
She knew he was there. "I'm going up to my rooms. Bring up a light supper. Then pack my things; I leave in the morning."
"Yes, Madam."
"Get a sweeper in here to monitor the video."
"Yes, Madam."
"Tell Buchan to come to my suite when he's through with Parker. I will give him his orders."
Nigel lifted an eyebrow slightly. "As you wish, Madam."
Margaret dismissed him. She patted Jarod's jacket. Poor man. Wiping his memory could be a blessing on many levels. She left the jacket and the den and leisurely climbed the stairs to her rooms.
Margaret sat on her chaise after eating supper accompanied by two glasses of wine. She was nursing a third when Buchan knocked lightly on her partly open door and entered.
"How is Miss Parker doing?" Margaret asked without turning from the sunset she watched through her window.
"As well as one might expect, Miss Abbott. I took the liberty of entering her rooms a few moments ago; she was sleeping."
"Good. I assume you have a sweeper outside her door?"
Buchan walked up behind the chaise. "Yes, Ma'am."
"Whatever she needs or wants is hers, understood? ...Within reason of course." Margaret rubbed the back of her neck. It and her back were both stiff.
"Of course." Buchan began to massage her neck.
Margaret picked up her wineglass. She used her free hand on the intercom. "Nigel?"
"Yes, Madam?"
"I want Miss Parker's supper brought up as soon as she contacts anyone. See to her packing as soon as she's eaten. You may tell her she leaves tonight but don't engage in a discussion with her."
"Yes, Madam."
Margaret released the connection.
"Buchan, I want a suicide watch on Jarod. I think he's matured enough not to try it this time but he did once and he is bright enough to find a way if he wants to."
"Already in place," he replied. Buchan's fingers found pressure points to release tightened muscles.
Margaret thought back to the time when Jarod and Parker were hormone-intoxicated teenagers, bored with their boundaries and far too inquisitive for their own good. Parker was fourteen, Jarod slightly older, when they started experimenting with sex. Did Jarod take advantage of her? Hard to determine. They had been thrown together all their lives in hopes something would develop; the experiment was a bit too successful. A pregnant Miss Parker would have been a disaster back then. Separating them was the only solution.
Memories of that period were wiped along with their adult affair. Parker had been confused, too young to fully understand the repercussions, she was chastised and sent away by her father. Jarod had been guilt-ridden and dejected. He became obstinate and refused to work. Nevertheless, his attempt at suicide had been a surprise. Margaret was not in the mood for any such surprises now.
Buchan's ministrations to her neck and shoulders were rapidly improving Margaret's mood. "I'm taking Jarod back in the morning. Will Miss Parker be ready to travel before or after? I have no intention of allowing them on the same flight."
"In my opinion she'll be anxious to get out of here. Tonight if you wish."
"Yes," Margaret nearly moaned as Buchan released a particularly sore pressure point in her neck. "You go with her. I want to be sure she feels properly cared for."
"My pleasure, Madam," Buchan breathed into her ear. He continued the massage.
Margaret sipped her wine. "Pour yourself a glass," she said, pointing to the iced wine and an empty glass.
Buchan did as he was told but only tasted it. He knew he was still on duty; he always was when in her presence.
"There are just a few last touches to complete this episode, Margaret continued. "Send Fergus back to the Caer. He can stay there and keep an eye on the Jamison clan. He can otherwise mind his own business and that order extends to Donal. Let that traitor stew for a bit; I'll get my use out of him later.
"Send sweepers to Kyle of Lochalsh, I need to know where Ethan is and what he's doing. They stay until they can catch him away from the Rosses. Leave one of them on watch for the duration. Erin Gordon has not done a very good job of repaying her debt to me." Margaret thought a moment. "Send a cleaner there."
Buchan extended the massage to Margaret's arms and hands, coming around to the front of the chaise. He nodded understanding.
He took both her hands and pulled her to her feet. "Anything else?" He removed Margaret's hairpins and brushed her hair back with his fingers, massaging her forehead and temples.
"Parker may stay at her own house but suggest she stay with me for a while. Either will do.
"She has to go to The Centre before I arrive with Jarod. She knows what needs done there." Margaret closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly. "If I think of anything else I'll tell you."
Buchan returned to massaging her shoulders, opening a button at the back of her blouse as he did. "Are we done now?"
Margaret nodded.
"Then I should go and pack," he said roguishly, stepping away from her.
Margaret turned and grasped his lapel. "That waits. We need to speak about your impudence earlier." She pulled him along with her as she backed toward her bedroom.
He smiled and loosened his tie.
Yes, she thought, he takes far too many liberties. She would show him who was boss. This had turned into a very agreeable day.
When Parker woke two hours after she fell into her bed, she could not remember how she got there. She could not remember anything after the look of horror and rage on Jarod's face as she turned to leave.
She lay and stared at the ceiling for another hour, tears occasionally slipping down her cheeks to wet her hair. Hunger finally forced Parker out of her stupor. She sat on the edge of the bed and derided herself. Hungry? How could she be hungry? She had just destroyed the man she loved. She had collapsed their lives to save Cameron's life. She rested her elbows on her knees, her head on her palms. She felt a small fluttering movement. Was it Cameron? It might be too soon, might be her imagination, but the small life within her had caused her hunger and he gave her the will to endure.
Parker got up, took a shower and dressed. She opened the hall door and told her guard she wanted something to eat. Nigel appeared ten minutes later. He told her she was leaving as soon as she was packed and commenced packing for her. She did not feel like talking to one of Margaret's subordinates and she would not believe anything he told her anyway.
Parker remembered something Margaret had said to her at Caer Erract. If she could destroy that which she loved more than life itself, then she would be ready to take her place as Chairperson of The Centre. She had, and she would take that place. But she would see that witch in Hell before she was done; no matter how many years it took. And she would see that HER son knew who his parents were. She could pretend to be what Margaret wanted. And she would pray that Jarod could someday forgive her for sacrificing their future.
Jarod lay with his back to the room for hours. He did not want Parker or his mother to see him cry. If they saw his tears they would think they had finally broken him. It was close, he felt broken, but he could not surrender. After a time the tears stopped. His eyes lost their swelling and he was left with only the pain in his hand and his heart. Running cold water over his fist would ease that hurt but there was not enough ice in the Artic to cool the pain and loathing he felt.
How could she have done this?
Jarod wasn't sure which "she" he meant. His mother was beyond conscience, beyond evil. She embodied all The Centre was, a hollow pit of power and greed that did nothing but destroy. Yet he had not been able to kill her.
And now Parker had turned on him, spit in his face, and embraced that selfsame monster. She was giving their son to that beast; tendering their future for power. And in his heart, behind all the anger, he still loved her and knew he always would. In some way that made him hate her a little.
Jarod knew there was a sweeper in the room. One had been stationed in a corner chair since shortly after Parker left. Margaret must be concerned that he would do something foolish. The thought had crossed his mind, but it seemed like deja vu. He thought of various ways to do it with the materials available and with the list came the filmy vision of having considered all these things before. He knew he had tried it, when he was much younger, and obviously failed. He remembered Sydney's horror and apologies for not recognizing his intentions. And The Centre had taken that memory too.
Jarod rolled over and stood in one motion. The guard nearly fell off his chair. Caught him napping, Jarod thought with gratification. Given enough time you could catch anyone off guard, even The Centre.
Jarod recognized the man as a Blue Cove resident. "When do we go 'home'?" he asked. He walked into the bathroom and noticed the door no longer shut completely.
The sweeper watched his reaction to the discovery before he replied, "In the morning."
"Good." Jarod slashed water on his face and returned to the bed. He wondered if Margaret would be traveling with them; for some reason he felt Parker was already gone.
Jarod pretended to sleep. He was exhausted but there was something he had to do before he slept, before they wiped his memory of this time with Parker. He lay quietly and repeated 'Cameron is my son' over and over in his mind. He used every memory trick he knew. The Centre had taken his memories before; he would not allow them to take his son away from him.
Part 24
by N.R. Levy and paula h
Margaret stood in front of the mirror in her master suite at Abbott Hall and stared at her own face. Calm was the best way to describe her look. Good, she thought. At least I look more in control than I feel.
Huffing, she turned and crossed to her chaise, sitting down in a heap. The very idea that she felt caught off guard or annoyed was only serving to make her more angry and flustered, and Margaret knew that just would not do. Yes, Parker regaining her memory was an obstacle, but had there not been other obstacles that seemed just as great if not insurmountable in her building of the Centre's empire? The list seemed almost too long to think back on, yet Margaret forced herself to do so in order to gain some perspective. The list of those she had bent to her will, Edna, Mr. Parker, Mr. Raines, Charles, and those she had eliminated when their curiosity could not be quelled, namely Lachlan, all of these obstacles had been dealt with in the manner required, delivering more power and surety to Margaret's cause.
Yet there had been one person who had slipped through her grasp, one person of whom she had ultimately lost control despite all of the years of successful cultivation and manipulation - Catherine. Certainly she had made her "best friend" dance to her tune for years, but it had been Catherine's curiosity and the discovery of her unique gift that had caused the biggest threat to Margaret's plans. True, thanks to Raines' interference, Catherine had been eliminated, but Margaret had to face the reality that in this one particular instance, she had lost the upper hand.
History could not repeat itself with Catherine's daughter.
Parker would be coming to Abbott Hall, and Margaret had to formulate a plan to get the woman back under control. And it was a far more risky proposition now than it had been when she'd discovered the Parker heiress knee deep in things Margaret didn't want her to know. Taking command at the Caer had been a fairly simple task. Parker had been caught off guard, her shock at discovering Margaret's complicity in the web of lies that was the Centre putting her off her usual guard. But Parker would be prepared for her this time, and so Margaret had to prepare in kind.
The child was, of course, the ultimate bargaining chip. If Margaret could construct a way of making Parker believe the child was in jeopardy, she had no doubt that the woman would quickly fall into line with her wishes. That child would mean the world to Parker, and not for the practical reasons of its importance to the Centre. No, the emotional bonds of motherhood that Margaret had so successfully avoided had already taken firm hold of Parker. Foolish sentimentality, but Margaret was grateful that it was a tool she could use against her foe.
She did not doubt that Parker would come alone. Jarod would be feeling too protective over his newly reclaimed "family" to allow Parker to come hunting for Margaret on her own, but Parker also wanted to protect someone, and that someone was Jarod. The way she'd spoken at the Caer about not letting Margaret hurt Jarod any more had tipped her hand. Another mistake of sentimentality. The younger woman would wait until her lover was asleep or distracted and then slip away. She would be alone, and though armed with suspicion and her gun, she would be vulnerable in ways she had not yet imagined.
Perhaps...yes, that was it. Margaret couldn't take the risk of brainwashing Parker again. Not only was it possible to cause irreparable damage this time, the child could not be risked. But she could use Parker's own gift against her. Yes, it could still work again. There were drugs, drugs that wouldn't harm the child but would keep Parker off balance. She could use the modified device that had once been place in Parker's room at Violet Penfield's inn and use it now to convince Parker of two essential truths...the child's life was in danger, and going back to Blue Cove was the only means of protecting it.
Yes, that was definitely the course to pursue. Parker would leave Jarod behind if it meant saving their child, and Margaret could round up her wayward son while Mr. Parker subdued his daughter back in the states. Once Miss Parker was back in the Centre, Margaret would return Jarod to the state of blissful unawareness that had once made him so valuable to the Centre, and this time, Margaret would do what she had failed to do with Catherine. She would convince Miss Parker that her child was, indeed, expendable.
It made sense, even if she would never want to have to go through with the threat. It would cost the Centre time and money. But she would have both mother and father at her disposal, and if need be, her next pretender could be made in a test tube.
Margaret smiled and leaned back against the chaise for a moment. She could only allow herself a brief respite from her whirling thoughts before it was time to make preparations.
After all, she had company coming.
The hours of chasing after Jarod and dealing with Margaret's machinations had definitely exhausted Parker, and the feeling of falling asleep in Jarod's arms again after so much separation had lulled her into a deep and contented sleep within minutes of her climbing into bed.
For the first time in weeks, she slept without the whispers of her mother or Cameron trying to will her anywhere and without the dark, frightening dreams that Margaret's brainwashing had left her facing day in and day out. Tonight she had dreamed a far different dream, one with her lying in Jarod's arms by the tree swing in the woods near her home. Cameron was newly born, perhaps a few weeks old, and he lay on her chest as her arms held him securely in place.
This time, there was no appearance of Margaret, no evil cackle of laughter as she tried to take possession of their son. Parker felt only the warmth of Jarod's body surrounding her and the soft weight of her baby boy resting upon her. They were relaxed and happy and in love. They were at peace.
Yet even as she enjoyed the sweet image, Parker felt something tugging her to consciousness. It wasn't the voices of her inner sense, or a nightmare, but some vague sense of something missing kept pulling on the fringes of her mind, telling her to wake up. Finally she surrendered, her eyes fluttering open hesitantly in the still dark bedroom. It took less than a second for her to realize what was missing.
Jarod.
Parker refused to panic. She stretched and climbed from the bed, pulling on the heavy robe that Alisdair had lent her when she'd arrived quite unprepared for how cold it could be at night. Quietly, in case he'd gone to work and fallen asleep in the living room, Parker padded out in search of Jarod. It was only after she'd made certain he was nowhere in Coel Na Mara that her heart began to beat more rapidly.
Shedding the robe for warm clothes and a pair of tennis shoes, Parker quickly scrambled up the walkway to the inn. Lights were on in the kitchen, and it made her prepare to admit she was overreacting. Jarod's stomach had probably lured him back here for more food, that was all. She'd walk in and find him talking Lillias' ear off or working on the computer with Ethan. It would all be all right.
Parker reached the back door and turned it, strolling into the room. Instead of being greeted with the sight she'd hoped for, she instead met the solemn faces of Lillias and Ethan.
"Aunt Lillias, is Jarod..."
"He's gon', darlin'. Gon' off to find the truth about where he comes from."
Parker could not move; her mind was jammed with questions. Lillias put a warm hand on her suddenly numb shoulder and guided her into the kitchen, closing the door softly behind her. Parker faced her aunt, eyes wide with disbelief.
"He's gone? But I thought he accepted what we told him, that we were convincing him of the truth?" in a plaintive tone of voice.
"He did, lass, he did. But he canna' believe until he hears it from the devil's mouth. He had t' go, just as ye had t' go after him afor. Some things seem destined, like ye and Jarod finding yer love."
Parker's mind was not on love, it was numbed by fear. "But where will he go? How will he find her?"
"I expect he'll go t' the family home in Penrith, Abbott Hall.
"But, Lillias, She will DO something to him."
"He is forewarned and he is better prepared this time, armed with knowledge of what she is."
Ethan added, "He has his gun."
Parker smiled at her brother and sat beside him at the table. Lillias bustled at the counter, getting biscuits and tea. Ethan put his hand over Parker's and she patted it with her free hand. Her thoughts started racing. At least Jarod had the gun, not much protection against his mother's machinations but it was something. Maybe once he saw that she had sweepers guarding her he would wait. But wait for what?
"How long ago did he leave?"
"Less than an hour."
Parker nearly jumped from her chair. "I have to go. Aunt Lillias, I have to go after him."
"Well, child that won't be quite possible. Jarod took Ethan's car and yers is nae workin'. Alisdair's truck is old and it's snowing and the truck is nae that good in snow."
"I have to go now."
"Aye, lass, I knew ye would want to. I've been thinkin' on the best way. The best way, as I see it, is t' take the train t' Inverness and rent an auto there."
"The train? But that's too slow. Isn't there some way I can get a car here?"
Not at 6:30 in the mornin'. And before ye say it, Ye'll not be stealing me neighbors autos." Lillias smiled as she placed a cup of tea and biscuits in front of Parker. "Now eat and we'll keep ye company. Alisdair will be about in a wee bit and the train does na leave for an hour."
Parker nibbled at the food to please her aunt. She was not hungry and there was a knot of fear in her stomach, riding just above her precious son. All were silent and Parker did her best to fight back tears.
Soon, though not soon enough for Parker, Ethan escorted her back to Ceol Na Mara. She dressed in the same clothing she came in. Dark and practical, made for sneaking about in the woods if necessary. She made sure her gun was loaded, then secreted it in a small carryon bag. She did not want to loose her weapon to a spying conductor.
Alisdair was in the kitchen drinking a mug of tea, when they returned to the Inn. He finished it off and went down to warm up the truck. Ethan refrained from offering his company. He and Parker had already decided he would stay at the Inn. Lillias murmured a goodbye and hugged Parker tightly. The older woman's worry was clearly written on her face.
Parker nodded her farewell, she was afraid to use her voice. She joined Alisdair in the truck.
Alisdair smiled as Parker climbed into the cab and tried to make small talk. "I'm sorry, lass, the heater is not up to the weather change. It'll be a cold ride to the station, but at least it be short."
Parker smiled at him. "Aunt Lillias," the name still seemed odd, "gave me a heavy shawl for the train. There's hardly need for a heater at all."
"Aye. "Yer aunt knits well and it's good wool. I have something small t' give ye, meself." Alisdair handed Parker a map. "It's marked fer the way t' Penrith. We would do more if we could." Alisdair cleared his throat.
"I know."
Their conversation ended and they drove the rest of the way in silence. Once they arrived at the station, Alisdair gave Parker a quick hug and a pat on the back before she boarded the train, and waved her off as the train pulled away from the station. Then she was alone again.
Jarod drove Ethan's car just slightly faster than was safe for road conditions. Keeping the car out of ditches kept his mind off other things. Things he did not want to think about, like the truth.
Unfortunately the weather improved halfway to Glasgow. Jarod spent the next driving hours reviewing everything he knew, or thought he knew, about his mother.
Exhaustion finally caught up with Jarod and he nearly caused an accident by driving on the wrong side of the road just past Glasgow. He had not slept in thirty hours and was emotionally worn out. He pulled off the road by a small copse of trees and turned off the engine. He leaned his head against the window and lost consciousness. Half an hour later he woke, groggily wondering where the hell he was and how he wound up parked on the shoulder.
Jarod pulled the car back onto the highway and found a café. His eyes were still bleary and he was chilled from the cold that had seeped into the car. The most important item on the menu was coffee. He ordered food as an excuse for taking up a table and downed a cup of coffee as soon as it was cool enough to swallow. The roast beef sandwich remained untouched. For the first time he could remember, Jarod had no appetite at all.
A second cup followed the first before Jarod felt reasonably awake and warm. He took a bite of the sandwich. Although it was excellent he could barely swallow it. He put the sandwich down and nursed a third cup of coffee while he watched a mixture of rain and snow pelt the window. He wanted to call Lillias and check on Parker. He wanted to call Parker and tell her he was sorry he left her behind. But he knew that she would say he should not have left without her. He did it to protect her from the stress of another trip; she needed to rest. And he did it to protect his mother from the woman he loved. God, what if it was all true? He rubbed a hand over his face.
Jarod finally gave up pushing the sandwich around his plate and returned to the car. He knew Parker was following him. He knew it would have taken her a while to find a car, but she would come. He hoped she had slept in, and that she would drive safely for the baby's sake. He had to find out the truth about his mother before Parker came. He had to put the past to rest before they could move into the future. If he was going to do that, confront his mother alone and see how she responded, he needed to get moving. Jarod filled up the tank at the petrol station next to the café and got back on the road. He still had over an hour of driving ahead of him.
When Erin Gordon woke she felt like she was hung-over from getting falling-down-drunk the night before. Even though her mind was fuzzy she knew that was not the cause, she was sick, very sick. She looked toward the window and groaned. The sun was rising; that meant that she had to report in to Maggie Abbott and go back to the Inn. She could not seem to rouse herself out of bed; instead she burrowed down under the comforter and pretended it was still dark.
The next time Erin pushed her head above the covers it was daylight. By the angle of the light she estimated midmorning. The phone was ringing. Erin did not get many phone calls; she was not Lochalsh's most popular citizen. The ruffians who frequented her bar only called themselves friends if you had the cash to pay for it. She knew who was calling and reached for the phone. It stopped ringing. She no sooner covered her head than it started ringing again. This time Erin let the phone ring and went back to sleep.
Two hours later Erin flailed her way from under the comforter and grabbed the phone on the 20th ring.
"Yes?" she croaked.
"Where the hell have you been?!" Margaret demanded. "You are supposed to be available at ALL times! Where are you?"
"I'm sick, Ma'am. I'm too sick to get out of bed."
"I don't give a damn if you die standing in the street. Get your ass out of bed and over to the Ross place."
"Yes, Ma'am, I'll try."
"Now, damn it, or I'll be sending the police an interesting package." Margaret cut the call.
Erin hung up her phone and forced herself to sit up. She doubled over coughing. Damn that Maggie Abbott! This was her doing, and the witch did not care if she died doing her dirty work.
Erin got up, dressed and got herself a mug of strong tea. She was feverish and achy. The cellular phone was recharged so there was no acceptable excuse for not returning to spy on Kinlock Inn. Erin donned her coat and boots and stepped outside. She trod fresh footsteps into a thin layer of snow all the way from her bar to the alley across from the Inn.
Erin was unpleasantly surprised to see just Alisdair's truck parked at the Inn. The only tire tracks in the snow belonged to that vehicle. Someone had taken the car before the snow took hold. But who was gone and where were they going? This was not good.
Erin was desperate. The witch would not abide these unreported changes. She saw movement at the rear of the house. Someone was about. She made her way to the back door.
Lillias was sweeping snow off the back porch. Her frown made it obvious that Erin's presence was not wanted. Erin tried to slip past Lillias but her path was blocked.
Lillias rounded on Erin. "What do you want, Erin Gordon, comin fer a visit uninvited?"
"Why, Lilli, sweet girl, I was just concerned. I heard that ye came back; so fast too. I feared somewhat was wrong. But ye look fit. It woudna be that Alisdair took sick again would it?" Erin scanned the kitchen through the window. She needed to know who was in the house and who was gone.
"I've seen lights on and cars so I knew ye had company." Erin looked for the company over Lilias' shoulder. Her gaze settled on Ethan. "And fine looking company it is. Tis late in the year for tourists though."
"They're not tourists and they be none o' yer business. So ye can be off." Lilias put her hand on Erin's arm; Erin shook her off.
"Now, Lilli, yer wouldn't chase me off with out a bit o' tea or an introduction."
A booming voice came from the doorway, "She might not, but I would. Be off wi' ye, woman, or I'll show ye to the way wi' a shove at yer back." Alisdair came out the door.
"Well, well, I can see hospitality is not important at this inn. I'll be tellin' the tourists that fer sure, come times they ask me where t' stay." Erin huffed, turned on her heel and walked down the steps. She wanted to heave a final retort at them but her voice caught in a coughing fit and the door slammed shut before she could catch her breath.
Still, Erin was smiling as she crossed the parking area and slipped out of sight around the corner. She pulled out her cellular phone and punched in Margaret's number. The phone was answered on the fifth ring.
Maggie Abbott's voice was gruff, "What is it now?"
"It's Erin Gordon, Ma'am. I have a bit o' news." Erin paused to cough.
"Well?" impatiently.
"The lass came back last night, wi' a tall, dark man. I don't see either o' them now. Th' car they came in is gone."
"Why are you only telling me this now?"
"I told ye, Ma'am, that I be sick, and the phone was na' workin' last night."
"Two poor excuses. So now I know someone left, but not when and not who?"
"I canna be sure because I'm not welcome at the Inn it seems. But Lillias and Alisdair be home, and the other man, Ethan, is still at the Inn fer sure."
"Well, I guess that's better than nothing." The tone of Margaret's voice matched her words.
Erin shivered, not from the cold. "I'll ask around town a bit and see if I can find out somewhat more, if ye want, Ma'am."
"And I'll just wait and see who shows up on my doorstep." Margaret cut the call.
Erin put her cellular phone back in her coat pocket and trudged home to make herself a hot toddy before she started on the Englishwoman's business.
Parker pulled her gaze from the window of the train as it pulled into the Inverness station. The two-hour train trip had seemed an eternity, with nothing to do but worry. Why hadn't he talked to her, told her what he decided, stayed with her? Half an hour of total anger at Jarod for leaving her behind; half an hour of self-disgust because she slept through his leaving; and an hour of impatience with her lack of control over the train and the situation. She glanced down at the marked road map. The fastest route to Penrith was already imbedded in her memory. It was difficult to remain in her seat until the train came to a stop at the platform.
Parker's mind constantly rotated around how long it would take her to get to Abbott Hall. It was nearly 10:00AM and Jarod left Kyle of Lochalsh before 6:00. Even with bad weather he would get to Penrith in less than two hours. It would still take her almost four hours to get there, and that was with moderate breaking of traffic laws. She did not want to endanger Cameron and she did not want to have to outrun the police in a strange car on strange roads. That meant Jarod would be alone with his Machiavellian mother for two hours, and God knew what Margaret could do to him in that amount of time.
Parker caught a taxi to a car rental agency. They told her all roads south were wet and well salted. She chose their fastest available vehicle, a Saab, found the nearest onramp, and pushed the pedal to the metal.
Margaret dropped her cellular phone onto the table beside her chaise. The conversation with Erin was not overly informative but it did tell her that Parker was coming, and much sooner than she expected. Margaret had wanted to speak with - manipulate - Parker alone. Jarod's presence would complicate matters, but not insurmountably. At least Ethan was not with Parker, even if Jarod was.
Margaret was a little worn out from the week's travels and skirmishes. She contemplated returning to the nap from which Erin woke her. Instead she called her butler, Nigel and told him to bring up coffee. Then she beeped Buchan, the sweeper-in-charge. He and the tea came to her suite a few moments later. She told him that Parker was coming and that it was up to him to coordinate and send out sentries to watch for her arrival. Margaret emphasized her demand for discretion. She did not want the neighbors to know who she really was any more than she had wanted Jarod and Parker to know who they were all these years. In addition she did not want Parker to know she was expected; more specifically, she did not want Jarod to know Parker had told him the truth. Seeing that she had her own sweepers guarding Abbott Hall would prove it. Margaret sipped her coffee and smiled ruefully; yes, the poor boy was definitely going to be disillusioned.
After dismissing the sweeper to fulfill his duties, Margaret decided to exchange her mommy dearest trapping for a power suit. She had to keep the upper hand in the impending confrontation. Parker had been so much easier to manipulate when she was younger. They had molded her and educated her, but they couldn't seem to eliminate that softness she inherited from her mother. A shame. At least she had inherited her mother's gift, the reason her father had married Catherine in the first place. He'd convinced Catie that he loved her; it became true after a fashion in later years. But the Parkers knew that power was more important than love and sacrifices had to be made to reach goals. The elder Parker was getting a bit soft as he aged, but Margaret had no intention of weakening, and her goal was getting nearer by the moment.
Just short of Penrith, Jarod pulled Ethan's car off the road and hid it. He could see the roofs of the town over the winter-bare trees. It would not be sensible to drive up to the gates of Abbott Hall. Assuming his mother was there, he would either endanger her or - if Parker was right - himself. Discretion was the better course. He hopped a ride on the back of a lorry hauling hay and used the bales for cover.
The truck had barely gone a mile before Jarod saw a dark car on the side of the road. The suited driver appeared to have engine problems. He was older than when Jarod saw him at The Centre, but Jarod remembered the sweeper. Jarod had been fourteen; Sydney was taking him to be inspected by some visiting triumvirate dignitary. The man was on the elevator when they entered. Jarod had noted his visitor nametag. Sydney had politely asked if the man was enjoying his stay in Blue Cove. The man replied in what Jarod now knew was a Scottish accent, that it seemed a bonny little town but he preferred London himself. The wording and accent had caught Jarod's fancy but the man's unusually long face and nose made him easily recognizable when he glanced up at the passing lorry. Being right about the need for secrecy did not please Jarod. The Centre was waiting for someone, who remained to be seen, but Jarod was determined to remain unseen until he saw his mother. He jumped off the truck when it stopped at an intersection, and waved thanks to the driver.
Abbott Hall sat on a rise to one side of Penrith, just before a wooded area and fields. There were several grand old houses in the vicinity; obviously the moneyed gentry had gravitated to that corner of the town. The majority of the estates were in good repair. Abbott Hall was not the largest nor the smallest, it was set apart mainly by position on the rise and the wonderfully ornate gates that secured its driveway. Jarod made his way via alleys and side streets; then circled behind through the woods.
A fine cold drizzle started. Jarod climbed a leaning tree tangled with vines for a look inside the wall. No one was patrolling the perimeter and the house had no obvious surveillance equipment. It appeared to be - was - the family's peaceful manor; a refuge that The Centre had not defiled. Jarod saw movement at window and slid off the tree. He moved a few yards down the wall and climbed over it. Dropping into some bushes he moved quickly to the house.
Margaret was ready for Parker. She was over-ready, and wasting adrenaline on pacing. She decided to leave her suite and go downstairs. Settling in the dining room, she scanned a few Centre reports. She had the cook make her a pot of Earl Grey and a small plate of biscuits. She was considering a short walk around the grounds when a light rain put an end to the idea. She had no intention of appearing bedraggled when Parker arrived. Margaret took her cup of tea and walked to the window. The grounds looked well kept even in winter, but the woods beyond the wall were overgrown. Before she left she would tell Nigel to speak to the farmer who owned the property and offer to have the trees thinned a bit. He could, naturally, keep the wood. She finished her tea and was about to turn away from the window when she noticed movement in a tree. Too large to be a cat; black panthers had not migrated to Britain, and Parker was not one to climb trees; Margaret knew who it was. She put her cup on the table, put on her raincoat, and went out onto the courtyard to meet him.
Jarod was impatient to get to the house so he forced himself to be doubly cautious. He froze when he heard the sound of a door opening. He counted to a hundred before he moved to a better vantage point. There was a woman standing on the veranda, scanning the grounds as though seeking something or someone. She had her hood up but he knew it was his mother. He wanted to run to her instantly but hesitated, not knowing why. After a few moments he stood and walked out of the bushes.
When she saw him, Margaret smiled and took a step toward him. He knew she had been watching for him. He came to her and stood tentatively wondering what to do or say.
Margaret hugged him. "Oh, Jarod, I was worried about you. I'm sorry I ran away, but I was just so frightened. I knew you would find the Hall, I hoped you would come." She looked over her shoulder. "Is Parker with you?" she asked in her best concerned voice.
"No, I left her..." he trailed off, not sure he should involve the Rosses.
"Left her? Did you have an argument?" Margaret put worry into her voice while she thought 'that would make things a bit easier.'
"No, Mom, we're fine. I just thought she needed a rest. But I'm pretty sure she won't be pleased." Jarod half-smiled.
"Well, I know you made the best decision possible. She should trust you." She paused. "Maybe The Centre has ruined her ability to trust?"
Jarod's smile disappeared. He knew how difficult it was for either of them to trust after their upbringing. But Parker trusted him, didn't she? And he had betrayed that trust by coming here without her, without even explaining.
Satisfied with his reaction, Margaret changed tacks. "Are you all right? Come inside, Baby, you look half-frozen." She bustled him into the house. "Let's go into the den where we can talk." She pushed the hood off her head but kept the long coat.
Jarod looked around as they walked through several rooms. The cook spared them a glance when they passed through the kitchen; there did not seem to be anyone else in the house. He looked at the woman confidently striding ahead of him, head held high. "Are you sure you're safe here?"
Margaret turned and smiled. "Yes, Jarod, in this place I'm perfectly safe," She could not keep a note of smugness out of her voice. She knew Jarod caught it by the way his shoulders twitched. She decided to let it ride; there was no way he could escape from Abbott Hall. Nigel and the cook knew to contact her sweepers when an unannounced visitor appeared. The sweepers would close the net. Now she had an even better bargaining chip then a potential child.
Margaret guided her son to a windowless, mahogany paneled room. Two walls were shelved with books; a large stone fireplace took up a third. "This is one of my favorite rooms. Let's get that coat off and get you warm." Jarod took the coat off but kept it. She settled him in a wingchair by the fire. "Jarod, baby, are you hungry?"
Jarod shook his head no, unable to take his eyes off the seemingly transformed woman.
"Well, you definitely need a hot cup of tea." She smiled, patted his arm and left the room.
He gazed at the door after her exit, trying to correlate what he thought he knew about his mother with what Parker told him and what he was seeing. For some indefinable reason, something about his mother in Abbott Hall, he was starting to believe Parker. Could it be that The Centre had poisoned them so completely they had to doubt everyone's motives; misinterpret their actions? Jarod rubbed a hand across his forehead; he was so tired.
Margaret tore off her coat and threw it in a corner. She was sure Jarod had a weapon in his coat and she had wanted to get it away from him. She was sure she was in no danger from him but it would be inconvenient if he started shooting up the Hall.
She strode into the kitchen to find the Buchan blocking the outside door. She told the cook to get tea ready before she turned to the sweeper. "I want to know how he got in here without your knowing it and I want to know where he left the car. Then I want the car brought here." She paced the kitchen while she spoke. "And I DON'T want Miss Parker waltzing in here unannounced. If she'd come over that wall she could have shot me before you idiots woke up." She stopped and looked out the back window for a moment. "Put Fergus on the car search. Get the rest of them back here; put two outside the den." Margaret walked back to the sweeper. "If Jarod decides he doesn't want to be here I want him stopped. If any of your idiots screw this up, you're dead." She punctuated the last with a finger to the man's chest.
He nodded, knowing better than to speak when she was in this kind of mood.
Margaret took the tea tray and left the room without another word. She set the tray down briefly on the dining room table and pressed her finger into the center of her forehead. She was getting tired of this dance. She needed to decide how to best control Jarod; she was tempted to just drug him. Instead she straightened her suit, checked her hair in the mirror, picked up the tray and went to tell her son the truth about his mother.
Jarod turned as his mother entered the room. She shut the door behind her and set the tray on a small table just behind Jarod's chair. She poured him a cup of tea, handed it to him, and sat on the arm of a wingchair that matched his.
Jarod held the delicate teacup in both hands. He looked down at it but did not take a sip.
"Drink it, Jarod, and then we'll talk," she encouraged.
When Jarod looked up he saw her as she really was. He had never seen her dressed in a tailored suit with her hair pinned up and back. The woman he was looking at was not a simple loving mother; she was a Centre psychologist; a woman of confidence and great power. Parker's words came back to him, the things she had endured, trapped and helpless, at the hands of ... this woman. The Margaret Abbott in front of him was capable of inflicting that torment. She had been waiting for him on the veranda; she had manipulated him all along. He shivered.
Margaret noted his look and the shudder; she went for concern. "Jarod, baby, you need to drink the tea."
"Is it drugged?"
"What?" So he believed.
"Is the tea drugged? Will I drink it and wake up tomorrow back at The Centre?" He put the cup down hard enough to rattle.
"How can you ask me that?" She feigned shock, wanting to see how much he really knew.
"It's true, isn't it, Mother?" Suddenly the word tasted bitter on his tongue. "I've been blind. It's all true, everything Parker told me. You drugged her and took her memory. You've been playing with us all our lives."
"I have never played with you, Jarod," she replied coolly. "I've done what was necessary, for a higher purpose. You may not understand it, but this has never been a game."
"Understand?" His voice cracked slightly with emotion. "How can I understand? You pretended to love me, you pretended to love Dad and want us to be a family and all the time, ALL the time, you only cared about The Centre."
"Love is highly overrated. It gets in the way of many things. Power is what's important. I know you deny it but I've seen you enjoy power over others. You're just a little too nice, a little too soft to wield it properly.
"That negative aspect must go along with some of the genes for pretender ability. You got most of them from your father. You got the rest from my side of the family. Your Uncle Lachlan had some ability and the same softness." The smug look returned to her face. "Those genes are why The Centre recruited me. They thought they could use me like they did Catherine, but I saw through them and saw what The Centre could do. Catherine did, too, but she was too soft. We kept her around as long as we could, until she became too much of a liability. But she did produce the daughter who is the future of The Centre. The next Chairperson and the one who will bring The Centre to its rightful place."
Jarod stared at her. He felt as though his blood had turned to ice.
"Not that you haven't been valuable. You have no idea how much revenue we made from your pretends and from the adaptations other, lesser pretenders did using your seminal work. I'm actually quite proud of your accomplishments." She put her hand on his wrist.
"Liar." He threw off her hand.
"No, that's true. The loving mommy role was just for effect, but I have always appreciated your talent. And I must add that I appreciate your recognition of the truth, I was not looking forward to a maudlin confession."
"What am I to you?" his voice was bitter.
"The prince consort, my dear, and father to the next generation."
Jarod felt bile rise in his throat. He had come into the spider's parlor and probably dragged Parker and their baby after him. He'd played right into this spider-woman's plans. He reached into his coat and felt for his gun. "How will my shooting you affect your plan?" he threatened.
"You won't do it, Jarod." Margaret smiled smugly. "You forget how long I've been watching you, son. You may want to use that gun in your coat but you just don't have the heart for it."
Jarod stared at her. He hated her, wanted to kill her before she could hurt Parker or his son, but she was his mother and he could not harm her. She was right; he was too weak. He released the gun.
Margaret knew she had won. "Are you willing to be reasonable?"
"I won't help you." Jarod's voice had a kind of tired bitterness that spoke surrender. He turned away from her to stare at the fire.
"I don't really require any help." She stood.
Jarod's head snapped around.
"Actually, you have already helped by coming here without your woman. Parker will be coming along to 'rescue' you again. We'll be having a little talk and she will see the light, or someone may have to die."
Jarod started to rise. "I won't let you hurt her."
"Spare us the heroics, Jarod. I have no intention of killing her. As I said, she's the future Chairperson of The Centre. But, I assure you, she will choose power before any of us leave here. Now, give me that gun." She held out her hand.
Jarod turned away defiantly.
"I can call four burly sweepers with tasers. You've experienced that already, haven't you? This is a no win situation for you, Jarod. Take your loss and save yourself injury. There are two sweepers outside this room; they'll escort you to a comfortable cell in the basement for the duration. I promise to talk to you later."
"Don't bother. I never want to see you again." Jarod dropped his coat on the chair and walked ahead of his mother to the door.
Jarod opened the door and confirmed that his mother had told him the truth this time. Two sweepers stood at attention opposite the door; two more, with tasers, blocked the front door and he could see more at the dining room arch. He considered trying a break for it anyway. He wanted so badly to keep Parker from coming here. He was a pretender and he knew there was no chance he could make it, but every muscle screamed for a try.
The nearest sweepers tensed as Jarod exited the room. Margaret gestured a negative and they took positions on either side of Jarod. One put a hand on his arm and Jarod ripped it away. That was all the trigger his adrenaline-saturated nerves needed. He punched the offending guard square in the face, turned and backhanded the opposite man. The first sweeper made a move to grab the pretender and he elbowed him before he gave sweeper two a glancing blow to the chin and punched him in the gut. Sweeper one caught Jarod's arms while the second recovered and started in for payback. One of the taser-armed sweepers moved toward the struggle.
Margaret intervened. "Enough! Jarod, enough! Stop it now! All of you stop it." She ordered.
Jarod stopped struggling. He stared at the carpet, breathing heavily.
The sweepers looked to Margaret for orders.
"Release him."
They did as she told them. Jarod glared at Margaret so coldly that even she felt the chill and turned away. "You two get him out of here. And keep your hands off him."
Jarod silently allowed the sweepers to shepherd him to the basement.
Margaret returned to the den and removed the gun from Jarod's coat. She checked his key ring; the small silver key was not there. Parker must have it again. Margaret was tired of this absurd version of Monkey-in-the-middle. It hardly mattered now that Jarod knew who she was. There were a few things she preferred he never learn. She had seen the results of his anger and he would be angry if he knew everything she had done.
She held the coat for a moment then draped it across the back of the chair where Jarod had been sitting. Jarod's hatred was no surprise. It was expected, 40 years in the coming; it made no difference in the scheme of things. But the small ache his look had caused in her heart surprised her. She smiled slightly, uncertainly, and then shook her head. It was a tad late for maternal emotion. She smoothed the coat and left the room.
The head sweeper, Buchan, was waiting for her, leaning against the back of the couch where the other two had stood. "Did I miss anything?" he asked. Years of working for her allowed that much informality. Years of good work allowed him to survive the day's blunders.
"Nothing useful. I assume your presence here means we have a secure perimeter this time?"
"Yes, we found a lorry driver that gave him a ride into town." He conveniently left out the fact that the truck drove right past him and he had not checked it. "Jarod was alone when the man picked him up. An Internet search showed that Miss Parker rented a Saab in Inverness at 10:30 this morning. We located the car using its theft tracking system. At her current rate of speed she will be here in an hour; I have the helicopter up to keep an eye on her. She's driving a bit too fast for conditions."
Margaret nodded approval. "That's her usual driving. And Jarod's car?"
"Should be coming in the front gate as we speak." He held out the coat Margaret had thrown on the dining room floor.
She took it with a half-smile. The man took too many liberties. He probably felt he earned them because of the extra services he provided her on the occasional night. Perhaps later she would reprimand him for the impropriety.
Fergus pulled the car into the drive as Margaret walked out the front door. He drove it up to her and got out.
Margaret contemplated for a moment, tapping her chin with a finger then came to a decision. "Park the car in the driveway in plain view. Leave the gates open. Fergus, you greet Miss Parker on the porch."
Fergus did as he was told.
Margaret went to her rooms for a short time then to the den. She called Nigel. He arrived shortly after and stood silently waiting while she turned on a small screen with video feed from Jarod's cell.
Jarod sat on the bed with his face in his hands. As though he could feel the weight of his mother's observation, he looked up at the video camera. At least the woman had the decency to make his surveillance obvious. Not like when he thought he had some privacy while The Centre recorded his every move. He noted the light was on now and assumed that was for Parker's benefit.
He stood and the camera followed the motion. He had already examined his quarters. They were small, clean, no window, small ventilation shafts and one reinforced door. When the door opened briefly for someone to bring in bottled water and a coffee carafe he saw at least three sweepers. Jarod had smiled at his mother's precautions, she may have played him for a fool but she did not underestimate him.
Jarod could not find any fault he could use to his advantage so he would have to wait and hope something presented itself. Present? Yes, he had made his mother a present of himself and dragged Parker and their son in with him. "God damn it," Jarod said aloud as he spun around in the middle of the room. "God damn me!" he yelled and punched the wall. The plasterboard crumbled, revealing a stone wall behind it, now stained with a bit of his blood.
Jarod stared at his hand. There was something satisfying about the self-inflicted damage. When the pain set in he stalked into the bathroom and ran cold water over his knuckles until the bleeding stopped. Once his hand was numb Jarod returned to his former position on the bed. He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the camera.
Margaret watched the entire process. Satisfied, she turned to Nigel. "How long till she arrives?"
"Ten minutes or less."
"I'll wait for her here; she comes in alone. Tell Fergus to stop at the door. Everyone stays out."
"Everyone, Madam, are you sure that's wise?" Nigel was concerned.
"Everyone. I'll allow Buchan to listen in," Margaret held up a small microphone, "during initial negotiations. I expect to be in control of the situation but it's better to be cautious. I don't want Miss Parker injured, at least for the present. If there's a problem, he and only he may intervene."
Nigel nodded.
"Now, bring a pot of tea and a tray of biscuits. I want it in here before Miss Parker pulls in."
Nigel nodded again and left the room.
Margaret settled herself in the wingchair. She glanced from Jarod's coat on the opposite chair to the screen where she could see his face. Yes, this would do nicely. She relaxed into the chair and contemplated the fire.
Parker saw the helicopter long before she got to Penrith. She had visualized a surprise entrance, gun in hand, and a look of shock and dismay on Margaret's face just before she blew her brains out. But she never really expected it. Parker refused to think about what she really expected; she concentrated on keeping the car within waving distance of the speed limit and various scenarios of Margaret's death.
A black sedan replaced the helicopter just as she entered Penrith. She caught a glimpse of the driver before he took a position her six. She recognized him. She had seen him giving orders to other sweepers at the Caer, but she knew him before that. She had first seen him when she was a girl, in her father's office. He had reappeared intermittently over the years. She recalled that Daddy had never been pleased to see him or the person he accompanied.
Now she understood that Margaret Abbott was the person who upset her father, perhaps even frightened him. If she were honest she would admit that Margaret frightened her. When she thought about what happened at the Caer she nearly gagged on her fear, but that would not stop her from walking into Abbott Hall and taking her life back.
When Parker pulled up to the open gates and saw Jarod's car she felt her anger rising. She pushed it back down. That was the reaction the witch wanted, her too angry to think straight.
Parker skirted Jarod's car and pulled up to the front door. The black sedan pulled in behind her and the sweeper closed the gate. An older man rose from a chair on the porch and came to the driver's side door. He opened the door and stood back. Parker remembered seeing him at various times around Inverness, perhaps at the Caer, some things were still unclear; he was somber and non-threatening.
Parker got out of the Saab and the man closed the door.
"Fergus," he said, putting a hand to his chest. "I've been told t' escort ye t' the Mistress."
Parker nodded.
"I'm sorry, lass, she has him in there somewhere, in one o' her rooms. And she be waitin' fer ye."
Parker nodded again.
Sweepers flanked the front door and waited inside. Fergus guided her to the den and opened the door. He dropped his head as she passed and shut the door behind her.
Parker took in her surroundings quickly. Her gaze came to rest on the video screen and Jarod. He was just sitting there, staring at the camera. He knew she was coming and, by the look of self-disgust and despair she read on his face, he knew what his mother was.
Margaret herself was sitting in a wingchair by the fire. Her back was to the room but her legs were visible. Parker pulled out her gun.
Margaret heard the sound of metal against leather and smiled, unseen by Parker. "If you shoot me, you die."
"You first."
"Watch the screen." Margaret picked up a small cordless phone and spoke into it without turning away from the fire. "A small demonstration please."
On screen, Jarod sat forward and looked at something off screen. A hand appeared and backhanded Jarod across the face. He fell sideways and came up ready to fight. The camera range widened to show three sweepers in the room. Two quickly pinned Jarod's arms behind him; the third flexed his fists and punched his palm.
Parker went ridged, "Don't."
"Good. At least you realize I'm willing to do what's necessary. The question is, are you?"
"You think this is necessary?" Parker asked with disbelief. "What could possibly make this necessary? What do you want?"
"I want, I need, you to take your place in The Centre." Margaret replied. She spoke into the phone, "Enough for now. Get out." She put the phone down and spoke to Parker. "Sit down. We need to come to an agreement." She reached beside her on the couch and turned off the microphone that transmitted to Buchan. The preliminaries were over.
Parker watched the sweepers release Jarod and leave the room. He looked at the camera as though he could see her and shook his head negatively. He returned to the bed, this time sitting sideways to the camera and closing his eyes. Parker knew how tired he was of being a Centre tool, especially one used against her.
Parker strode tensely to the wingchair with Jarod's coat draped over its back. She stroked the garment as she passed. She sat, stiffly upright compared to the seemingly relaxed woman in the other chair. Her gun remained in her hand in her lap.
Margaret turned to face Parker. "You have choices to make. They are limited and you have to make them now."
"Choices." Parker doubted she would like any of them.
"Basically, your child or its father."
The hair went up on the back of Parker's neck. "What do you mean?"
"There are several possible scenarios. One, you come back of your own freewill and take your place at the helm of The Centre. Jarod comes with us. I wipe his memory and he goes back to what he does best, pretending.
"Two, I abort the pregnancy and wipe both of your memories. You come back to The Centre. Jarod is released elsewhere and the chase continues.
"Three, I take you back against your will. Allow your pregnancy to come to term, take the child and raise him or her to take your place. The process can be repeated as necessary. Oh, and in this scenario, Jarod is not particularly necessary; semen can be frozen.
"These scenarios have one thing in common, you are coming back to The Centre. That is non-negotiable."
"You can go to Hell."
"No doubt. But I'm giving you the power of life and death, the ultimate power and you must make a choice."
Parker's hand tightened on the gun; she thumbed the safety off. "I should kill you right now."
"Jarod made the same suggestion. That would actually be a fourth scenario. And remember, if I die Jarod dies and you will not be raising his heir."
Parker reset the safety and released her hold on the gun. "What if I refuse to decide?"
"That is a choice in itself. Allow me to point out the basic differences in these arrangements, in case they are a bit too much for you to grasp. If you want both Jarod and your child to survive you must cooperate with me and become the next Chairperson of The Centre. If you want Jarod and don't give a damn about the baby, you can continue chasing him until you get tired of it and take the desk job some time in the future. If you have some sort of Romeo and Juliet delusions or just want to be stubborn, you loose everything. And The Centre raises the child you will never know."
Parker felt Cameron's presence keenly within her. He had no choice in this; he was hers to protect. The bitch had them in a vise. "If. If I decide to join forces with you," she nearly gagged on the words, her mouth was so dry, "what then?"
"Then you will learn the true uses of power. And when you prove to me that you can be trusted with that power you'll have it."
"What about my son?"
"It's a boy? Congratulations. He will have quite a legacy."
"I don't give a damn about that legacy. I want him to know his father."
"Did Jarod know his father? Do you really know yours? He is never to know who his father is. The Centre will be his father and mother, whether figuratively or literally is up to you."
Parker stared silently at the older woman; then turned away. She wanted so badly to kill her, end this all right now. She knew there was an afterlife because she heard her mother's voice. She and Cameron were already connected and would know each other despite anything Margaret did. And she knew they would all be reunited in the next world, some time in the future. But Margaret was right; it was a bit too Shakespearean. She wished she could call on her mother's voice; she needed to hear it now.
Parker stared at the fire and tried to find another alternative. There literally were none. Margaret had spelled it out. There was only agony, and no reason to prolong it.
"Yes, I will go back to The Centre...willingly."
"Good. I won't gloat about it, Parker, it was the only intelligent decision." Margaret nodded sincere approval. "Now for the rest of the rules."
"I will have Jarod's memories of this period expunged. This is the last time I am willing to do so. Further treatments could cause cognitive damage, making him useless to The Centre except for genetic material.
He will be returned to The Centre and his duties. You are never to have contact with him, except in the most formal sense. Any personal contact will result in his death. Is that clear?"
Parker nodded.
Margaret continued, "You will not tell him the child is his. If he should discover that truth, Jarod and/or the child will be removed from The Centre. This means that your faithful trained monkeys had better keep their mouths shut or you loose. You are responsible for their education on that. It would also be advisable that they never learn about our agreement. As far as they're concerned you've finally come to your senses and dropped the lab rat.
"If Sydney feels he can adequately manage Jarod and re-establish clinical objectivity he will be allowed to supervise his former protégé. If he cannot, he will be reassigned with no prejudice. Raines may want take over the job..." Margaret paused, suddenly thoughtful, "but I think I might. It's been a long while since I've had time to do any research.
She returned her attention to the subject at hand. "If - and this is very tentative - you prove yourself to be the leader you were bred to be, there may be a time when you will be allowed to rekindle your sexual relationship with Jarod, should you still want to. I think you will find using him an interesting juxtaposition of roles."
Parker was totally speechless. She found herself gripping the gun too tightly and forced her hand to relax.
Margaret studied the younger woman for a moment. "Now for the first action to prove your commitment to the deal you will go down to Jarod's cell and tell him your decision. You will not tell him the reasons, just the facts. This will be your last contact with him. Do you understand?"
Parker took a second to regain the power of speech. "I have to tell him? I want to explain. You're going to wipe his memory anyway, at least let me explain."
"No, this is part of the deal."
Just a part of the deal, Parker thought, and she had to destroy the rest of Jarod's dreams. God, this was more than he could take; more than she could take. Jarod would think she was sending him back.
Margaret did not rush Parker. They sat and watched the fire slowly die. Parker leaned back against Jarod's coat and breathed in the scent of leather and him. She kept one hand on the gun; the other rested on her slightly rounded stomach and the son who might never know his wonderful father.
When the flames had died and the logs become an almost molten turmoil, matching her thoughts, Parker rose from her chair. She felt the gun in her hand. If she was careful she could slip it to Jarod. He could at least make his own decision...
As though she read Parker's mind, Margaret said, "Leave the gun."
Parker placed her gun on a side table and stroked Jarod's coat in passing. Chills ran up her spine as she turned her back on Margaret and walked out of the den.
The man who called himself Fergus was gone. The sweeper from the car, she would learn his name later, waited for her beside the couch.
Buchan spoke first. "I will escort you to your rooms. There's a selection of more appropriate clothing and toiletries. You may wish to freshen up before meeting with Jarod."
Meeting, Parker thought, what a poor description of what she was about to do to the man she loved. She followed Buchan up the grand staircase in the front hall.
Margaret remained in her wingchair for several moments, contemplating. She groaned as she pushed herself off the chair. Winter in Britain made her feel she was getting too old for this espionage routine. It would be good to get back to Blue Cove and take her rightful place at the helm of The Centre.
Margaret walked over to the video screen and turned on the sound. She wanted to watch.
Miss Parker's quarters were well appointed but all she noticed were the windows. They were not barred. She could see the woods and fields beyond the wall; if she did not know the truth, she could imagine she was still in Scotland and none of this had happened.
There was a small selection of short-skirted suits and tailored pants outfits neatly hung in the cupboard. Matching shoes and boots were lined up below. All had come from her house in Blue Cove.
Parker chose a looser pantsuit and low boots, and was pleased to find that they fit. She went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face and smoothed her hair. Someone had also brought her makeup in her usual Centre palette. She applied it heavier than she had for a while and looked at herself. The Ice Queen was back. She almost started crying.
There was a bottle of Chanel on the counter. Parker reached for it as a matter of habit but then changed her mind. Jarod loved that perfume; she did not want it to become a part of his nightmares.
Buchan awaited Parker where she left him, leaning against the wall opposite her door. He nodded approval for her transformation as he pushed himself away from the wall. He led her down two flights of stairs to the basement and stopped at the bottom.
Parker continued down the hall. She knew her destination by the sweepers blocking the door. They parted when she got there. She took a deep breath and entered Jarod's cell.
Jarod's head came up when the lock clicked. His first glimpse of Parker brought him to his feet and a step toward her. His heart literally skipped a beat he was so relieved that she was safe.
Parker walked tentatively into the cell. She had planned to stride in confidently but her legs did not oblige. When she looked at Jarod coming toward her, and saw his childish loving expression, she almost lost her nerve. "I'm sorry, Jarod," Parker stopped before her voice cracked.
Jarod stopped. He studied her. She looked hopeless for a moment, almost frightened, and then the iron mask came over her face and he knew she was lost to him. He stood still, waiting for the sword stroke he knew she would deliver. "Just tell me, Parker, what's happened? What are you going to do?"
Parker saw realization on his face and fear and, finally, acceptance of the fact that she was Centre property once again; they all were. She ignored the first question. She steeled her will and forced ice into her voice. "I'm sorry, Jarod, I've decided to return to Blue Cove and The Centre."
Jarod was incredulous. "Going back? Why?" Then he grew angry. "She's making you do this. What's she done? What's she threatened?"
"I'm doing this because I've decided to. I cannot spend the rest of my life chasing a dream around the world or running from The Centre. It could never have worked. You tried for freedom, but you couldn't completely separate. You dragged me into your dream and for a while I believed it. Margaret pointed out the futility of that dream and the reality I might throw away." Unconsciously Parker's hand migrated to her waist. "I'm going back to prove myself to Margaret and my father. I need to atone for my stupidity."
"So I was," Jarod motioned between them, "what we shared was stupidity?"
"I made a mistake."
"Our son is a mistake?" Jarod was anguished.
"My son will inherit The Centre. I'll give him what he needs to survive. He will be strong and he will understand power. I will raise him as a Parker."
"He's ours, Parker!" Anger began to creep back into his voice. "The Centre can't have him; you said so. I won't let you..."
"You are in no position to 'let me' do or not do anything, Jarod. Look around you. I will not have MY son follow in your footsteps. He won't be raised without a mother or spend his life running."
"No, he'll be raised without a father; by a mother who aspires to be just like mine," he snarled.
"So be it. That's the way it is and you won't have to worry about it."
Parker turned on her heel and exited the room, slamming the door behind her. When she was halfway down the hall she had to lean against the wall. She thought she was going to collapse. Buchan appeared from somewhere and steadied her until she was stable enough to shake him off. She forced herself to walk up the two flights of stairs unassisted and closed the door in his face. She locked the door and collapsed on the bed.
After Parker left him Jarod sputtered and fumed. He almost punched the wall again but when he made a fist pain lanced through his hand, and through his thoughts. He turned to the camera and swore. He called his mother and Parker more names than he thought her knew. Then he threw himself onto the bed and turned his back to the room.
Margaret smiled. Today had gone quite well. Jarod definitely believed Parker. He might doubt her veracity later when his anger cleared and he was rested, but for the present he thought she had lied to him about their relationship.
Parker had done quite well, very believable. Margaret intended to remember that when she weighed Parker's commitment to The Centre and their deal.
Margaret walked back to the side table and pressed a call button. She stood, one hand fondling Jarod's coat, and watched the dying fire collapse upon itself.
Nigel entered the den and stood in the center of the room, behind Margaret.
She knew he was there. "I'm going up to my rooms. Bring up a light supper. Then pack my things; I leave in the morning."
"Yes, Madam."
"Get a sweeper in here to monitor the video."
"Yes, Madam."
"Tell Buchan to come to my suite when he's through with Parker. I will give him his orders."
Nigel lifted an eyebrow slightly. "As you wish, Madam."
Margaret dismissed him. She patted Jarod's jacket. Poor man. Wiping his memory could be a blessing on many levels. She left the jacket and the den and leisurely climbed the stairs to her rooms.
Margaret sat on her chaise after eating supper accompanied by two glasses of wine. She was nursing a third when Buchan knocked lightly on her partly open door and entered.
"How is Miss Parker doing?" Margaret asked without turning from the sunset she watched through her window.
"As well as one might expect, Miss Abbott. I took the liberty of entering her rooms a few moments ago; she was sleeping."
"Good. I assume you have a sweeper outside her door?"
Buchan walked up behind the chaise. "Yes, Ma'am."
"Whatever she needs or wants is hers, understood? ...Within reason of course." Margaret rubbed the back of her neck. It and her back were both stiff.
"Of course." Buchan began to massage her neck.
Margaret picked up her wineglass. She used her free hand on the intercom. "Nigel?"
"Yes, Madam?"
"I want Miss Parker's supper brought up as soon as she contacts anyone. See to her packing as soon as she's eaten. You may tell her she leaves tonight but don't engage in a discussion with her."
"Yes, Madam."
Margaret released the connection.
"Buchan, I want a suicide watch on Jarod. I think he's matured enough not to try it this time but he did once and he is bright enough to find a way if he wants to."
"Already in place," he replied. Buchan's fingers found pressure points to release tightened muscles.
Margaret thought back to the time when Jarod and Parker were hormone-intoxicated teenagers, bored with their boundaries and far too inquisitive for their own good. Parker was fourteen, Jarod slightly older, when they started experimenting with sex. Did Jarod take advantage of her? Hard to determine. They had been thrown together all their lives in hopes something would develop; the experiment was a bit too successful. A pregnant Miss Parker would have been a disaster back then. Separating them was the only solution.
Memories of that period were wiped along with their adult affair. Parker had been confused, too young to fully understand the repercussions, she was chastised and sent away by her father. Jarod had been guilt-ridden and dejected. He became obstinate and refused to work. Nevertheless, his attempt at suicide had been a surprise. Margaret was not in the mood for any such surprises now.
Buchan's ministrations to her neck and shoulders were rapidly improving Margaret's mood. "I'm taking Jarod back in the morning. Will Miss Parker be ready to travel before or after? I have no intention of allowing them on the same flight."
"In my opinion she'll be anxious to get out of here. Tonight if you wish."
"Yes," Margaret nearly moaned as Buchan released a particularly sore pressure point in her neck. "You go with her. I want to be sure she feels properly cared for."
"My pleasure, Madam," Buchan breathed into her ear. He continued the massage.
Margaret sipped her wine. "Pour yourself a glass," she said, pointing to the iced wine and an empty glass.
Buchan did as he was told but only tasted it. He knew he was still on duty; he always was when in her presence.
"There are just a few last touches to complete this episode, Margaret continued. "Send Fergus back to the Caer. He can stay there and keep an eye on the Jamison clan. He can otherwise mind his own business and that order extends to Donal. Let that traitor stew for a bit; I'll get my use out of him later.
"Send sweepers to Kyle of Lochalsh, I need to know where Ethan is and what he's doing. They stay until they can catch him away from the Rosses. Leave one of them on watch for the duration. Erin Gordon has not done a very good job of repaying her debt to me." Margaret thought a moment. "Send a cleaner there."
Buchan extended the massage to Margaret's arms and hands, coming around to the front of the chaise. He nodded understanding.
He took both her hands and pulled her to her feet. "Anything else?" He removed Margaret's hairpins and brushed her hair back with his fingers, massaging her forehead and temples.
"Parker may stay at her own house but suggest she stay with me for a while. Either will do.
"She has to go to The Centre before I arrive with Jarod. She knows what needs done there." Margaret closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly. "If I think of anything else I'll tell you."
Buchan returned to massaging her shoulders, opening a button at the back of her blouse as he did. "Are we done now?"
Margaret nodded.
"Then I should go and pack," he said roguishly, stepping away from her.
Margaret turned and grasped his lapel. "That waits. We need to speak about your impudence earlier." She pulled him along with her as she backed toward her bedroom.
He smiled and loosened his tie.
Yes, she thought, he takes far too many liberties. She would show him who was boss. This had turned into a very agreeable day.
When Parker woke two hours after she fell into her bed, she could not remember how she got there. She could not remember anything after the look of horror and rage on Jarod's face as she turned to leave.
She lay and stared at the ceiling for another hour, tears occasionally slipping down her cheeks to wet her hair. Hunger finally forced Parker out of her stupor. She sat on the edge of the bed and derided herself. Hungry? How could she be hungry? She had just destroyed the man she loved. She had collapsed their lives to save Cameron's life. She rested her elbows on her knees, her head on her palms. She felt a small fluttering movement. Was it Cameron? It might be too soon, might be her imagination, but the small life within her had caused her hunger and he gave her the will to endure.
Parker got up, took a shower and dressed. She opened the hall door and told her guard she wanted something to eat. Nigel appeared ten minutes later. He told her she was leaving as soon as she was packed and commenced packing for her. She did not feel like talking to one of Margaret's subordinates and she would not believe anything he told her anyway.
Parker remembered something Margaret had said to her at Caer Erract. If she could destroy that which she loved more than life itself, then she would be ready to take her place as Chairperson of The Centre. She had, and she would take that place. But she would see that witch in Hell before she was done; no matter how many years it took. And she would see that HER son knew who his parents were. She could pretend to be what Margaret wanted. And she would pray that Jarod could someday forgive her for sacrificing their future.
Jarod lay with his back to the room for hours. He did not want Parker or his mother to see him cry. If they saw his tears they would think they had finally broken him. It was close, he felt broken, but he could not surrender. After a time the tears stopped. His eyes lost their swelling and he was left with only the pain in his hand and his heart. Running cold water over his fist would ease that hurt but there was not enough ice in the Artic to cool the pain and loathing he felt.
How could she have done this?
Jarod wasn't sure which "she" he meant. His mother was beyond conscience, beyond evil. She embodied all The Centre was, a hollow pit of power and greed that did nothing but destroy. Yet he had not been able to kill her.
And now Parker had turned on him, spit in his face, and embraced that selfsame monster. She was giving their son to that beast; tendering their future for power. And in his heart, behind all the anger, he still loved her and knew he always would. In some way that made him hate her a little.
Jarod knew there was a sweeper in the room. One had been stationed in a corner chair since shortly after Parker left. Margaret must be concerned that he would do something foolish. The thought had crossed his mind, but it seemed like deja vu. He thought of various ways to do it with the materials available and with the list came the filmy vision of having considered all these things before. He knew he had tried it, when he was much younger, and obviously failed. He remembered Sydney's horror and apologies for not recognizing his intentions. And The Centre had taken that memory too.
Jarod rolled over and stood in one motion. The guard nearly fell off his chair. Caught him napping, Jarod thought with gratification. Given enough time you could catch anyone off guard, even The Centre.
Jarod recognized the man as a Blue Cove resident. "When do we go 'home'?" he asked. He walked into the bathroom and noticed the door no longer shut completely.
The sweeper watched his reaction to the discovery before he replied, "In the morning."
"Good." Jarod slashed water on his face and returned to the bed. He wondered if Margaret would be traveling with them; for some reason he felt Parker was already gone.
Jarod pretended to sleep. He was exhausted but there was something he had to do before he slept, before they wiped his memory of this time with Parker. He lay quietly and repeated 'Cameron is my son' over and over in his mind. He used every memory trick he knew. The Centre had taken his memories before; he would not allow them to take his son away from him.
