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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don’t belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. Actually it is intended but I’m not making any profit so there’s really no point in suing me over it. - AUTHOR’s NOTE: I have no idea if mug shots are kept electronically these days or not. I would assume that this would be a very useful and efficient way of storing such images. A digital camera and a storage medium would be all that was needed for the legal system to maintain criminal’s pictures much more quickly and effectively that in the past. But it is only an assumption on my part.
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Veil of Contentment - Part 3 - By Phenyx - 04/03/04
-
“There he is again,” Jarod murmured in a low dangerous voice as he tapped his index finger on the monitor in front of him. “Rewind the tape to the earlier instance. That was a better image of his face.”
“You have no proof that this is our guy,” Agent Harrison stated as Broots hit the rewind button. The group had spent the last ten hours skimming through nearly twenty days worth of security footage from the museum.
“That’s him,” Jarod said confidently. “He is the only regular visitor over the past few weeks fitting the description of our suspect.”
“Could be coincidence,” Harrison argued.
Jarod sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He was bone tired and his patience was wearing thin. “Look, the guy wandered through that place for hours on no less than six separate occasions in the last fifteen days,” he said.
“With a sketchbook,” the agent snapped. “Just like a dozen other art students.”
“He’s not a student,” Jarod growled. “No artist worth spit would be drawing with a plain yellow, number two pencil. This guy was casing the joint.”
“What do we do now?” Miss Parker asked as she perched on the table beside the monitor.
“We compare this image to a few police databases and hope we get lucky,” Jarod said. “This guy may have had trouble with the law before.” Looking toward Broots he added, “Lets start with the Blue Cove P.D. Then we’ll widen our search to Dover.”
“You plan on looking at every mug shot in the state?” Agent Harrison sneered.
“No,” Jarod yawned. “I have a program that can compare facial representations and flag possible matches for us. It works much faster and we only have to look at the images the computer marks for us. I usually use it to identify John Doe morgue shots, but this is the same principle.”
“Jarod,” Sydney chided with concern. “You look exhausted.”
The pretender nodded. “It’s been a rough week,” he admitted wryly. “I’ll show Broots how to monitor the program then I’ll grab an hour’s rest.”
Jarod wound up sleeping twice as long as he’d intended. When he woke, he stormed through the livingroom ignoring the officers standing there. Irritated with himself for dallying in bed, the pretender’s tongue was much sharper than he realized as he entered the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” he snapped at Sydney.
The older man sitting at the table cradled a mug between his palms. He showed little remorse. “You were tired,” Sydney said. “There’s nothing to be done until we get a hit on the image search anyway.”
Jarod shook his head in resignation as he served himself. “Where’s Parker?” he asked after he had sipped for a moment at the hot brew.
“I sent her off to bed right after you,” Sydney explained. “She hadn’t closed her eyes for a moment since Teddy disappeared. I had to threaten to sedate her.”
Jarod nodded as he drank his coffee. “It’s natural for her to be upset.”
“You are the only reason she has relaxed enough to get some rest,” Sydney said. “She has complete confidence in the fact that you will bring the boy back.”
Sitting in the chair opposite his old mentor, Jarod sighed. “Nothing like a little pressure to increase the old pretender’s performance,” he said wryly.
“Do you doubt your abilities, Jarod?” Sydney asked with gentle concern.
Jarod snorted. The sound was so like a Miss Parker scoff that Sydney had to marvel at it. “I am the best P.I. in the business Sydney. No one tackles a missing child case the way I do.”
“For obvious reasons,” Sydney added.
Jarod paused, gazing thoughtfully into his cup. “But being the best doesn’t mean much in this business,” he said in a soft voice. “Sometimes a child is dead before anyone even realizes they are missing. I’m not unlike one of those dogs used to sniff at the rubble after a building collapse. It’s my job to find the bodies.”
“That’s a very pessimistic view Jarod,” Sydney said. “If the experience is so difficult for you, why continue to do it?”
“I can’t give up on them, those still missing,” Jarod explained. “A private investigator was hired to find me once. A long, long time ago.” Dark brown eyes gazed sadly at the aging psychiatrist. “He gave up. He stopped looking for me. What if he had searched for one more day? What if that one day was all it would have taken to find me?”
“Jarod,” Sydney began.
Jarod went on, cutting off Sydney’s comment. “Besides, I owe it all those sweet little children who sacrifice their lives to the monsters who abduct them. There are hundreds of them Sydney, every year. Children snatched from playgrounds, school yards, bedrooms,” the pretender’s voice cracked and he had to inhale deeply to reign in his emotions. “Little boys and girls who are tortured raped and mutilated. The Centre didn’t corner the market on cruelty you know.”
Sydney nodded solemnly.
“I owe it to them, Sydney,” Jarod said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Because I was one of them. I was one of them that lived.”
The older man sniffed, very near tears. “I am so sorry, Jarod,” he sighed. “I am sorry for the life you were denied. I am sorry for the pain you were forced to endure.”
“No, Sydney,” Jarod smiled a wavering grin at his old mentor. “Don’t apologize. You are the reason I survived. I know that. If not for you I would have been no more than a case number in some file. Another of the woeful little corpses I come across far too often. Without your protection, Raines would have killed me. I’m sure of it. I would have let him.” Jarod shook his head as he continued. “I’m the one who is sorry, Sydney. You lost so much because of me; your brother, your son. You lost as many years as I.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Sydney assured him. “It was not your fault.”
For a long moment, the two men gazed at each other across the table. Each realized that this was as close as they would ever get to forgiving one another. Complete forgiveness would probably forever elude them. Regret would gnaw at them all their lives. But at least they could set aside blame.
Sydney stood with his cup and crossed the room toward the coffee pot. As he passed Jarod, he placed one hand on the pretender’s shoulder and gave him an affectionate squeeze. In the thirty years they had been together, such displays had been nearly unheard of. There had been the occasional hug in recent years, but those had usually been to mask the passing of some object or message. This simple gesture, unsolicited and without guile, made Jarod’s face light up with pure adoration.
“This must all be very difficult for your parents to understand,” Sydney said as he poured more coffee into his mug. He held the pot toward Jarod with a questioning glance.
The pretender nodded, offering his cup for a refill. “I’ve never talked to them about it,” Jarod admitted casually.
Sydney frowned in confusion. “How much do they know about those years spent in The Centre?”
“I don’t know,” Jarod said with a shrug. “Dad has a better idea than Mom. He’s seen some of the DSAs. But we’ve never really discussed it.”
Sydney sank back into his seat with a thud. “Don’t they want to know where you’ve been all this time?”
“Well sure,” Jarod said. “But what do you suggest I tell them? How do I explain to my mother that Catherine Parker was one of the kindest, most compassionate souls I have ever known? My mother holds Mrs. Parker responsible for kidnapping me. How shall I explain the way I feel about you Sydney? How do I tell my father that hundreds, maybe thousands, of people have died because I wanted to make you proud of me? What can I tell my wife when the woman who pursued me relentlessly for more than six years calls, and I drop everything to answer?”
Jarod shook his head. “No Sydney,” he continued. “It is easier this way.”
“For now, perhaps,” Sydney replied. “But the longer you hide your true self from those you love, the harder it will become.”
Jarod frowned at his coffee as he mulled over Sydney’s words. He wasn’t given much time to think. Mr. Broots burst into the room excitedly.
“We’ve got a hit,” the balding tech gasped.
Jarod scrambled from his chair and was across the room in a flash. “Wake Miss Parker,” he ordered.
-
Jarod glanced up at a sky heavy with clouds. The dark gray blanket overhead threatened to burst at any moment. If his plan worked, rain could work in their favor. But if it didn’t, he would have to track the kidnapper and a storm would cause more than a few problems.
The hiking trail at Middlefield Park was more of a climbing trail. The path wound up the steep side of an ancient gorge. There had been a mudslide earlier in the season, causing the trail to be closed to the public until it could be properly shored up. As Jarod followed the instructions that had been stapled to the post at the start of the trail, he had been forced to climb over the chain link fence that blocked his way.
Jarod moved up the incline as quickly as he could. He carried only the silver briefcase that held the ransom money. It was amazing how heavy one hundred thousand dollars could be when you tried to jog up a cliff side with it.
Jarod rounded a bend in the trail and found himself on a small plateau overlooking the gorge. It was a stunningly beautiful spot. It would be magnificent in the fall. But Jarod had no time to admire the view.
“Hold it right there,” a man’s voice demanded.
Jarod stopped immediately, scanning the area with his eyes. He could see no one. A drop of wetness fell from the sky onto Jarod’s cheek, causing him to flinch slightly.
“I have the money,” the pretender called out.
“Let’s see it,” the voice came again.
Jarod held the briefcase on his forearm and opened it one handed. Turning the open valise away from him, he turned slowly in all directions to display the contents. He still could not see the suspect.
“Put the case on the ground and go back the way you came,” the disembodied voice called.
“No can do,” Jarod replied. “I get the boy first.”
“Do as I say or you’ll get nothing but pieces!” the voice cried. As if to emphasize this point there was an abrupt shriek of a frightened child echoing in the air.
Jarod cautiously placed the briefcase on the ground and took two steps back. “I want the boy,” he yelled.
“When I get my money, I’ll send him down the trail,” was the response.
Slowly reaching into his leather jacket, Jarod pulled a thick manila envelope from his inner pocket. Holding the wad aloft he called, “I can offer you double if you give me the child now.”
There was a long pause. “Leave it with the rest,” the voice called.
Jarod pulled out his trump card and prayed to God that he wasn’t wrong. “Listen Jeff,” the pretender called in a friendly tone. “You don’t mind if I call you Jeff, do you? Or do you prefer Jeffrey?”
Silence hung in the air as rain began to fall in fat drops.
“I’ve been hired to bring back the kid and that’s what I intend to do,” Jarod called in a casual voice. “Now we can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. Up to you really.” Jarod took two more large steps backward and then very deliberately placed the envelope on the ground. “Two hundred thousand dollars Jeff. Just sitting here waiting for you to come get it.”
“You leave,” came the voice again.
“Not without the kid,” Jarod stated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.
For a long minute the pretender stood there quietly, watching the tree line as the raindrops increased.
“Look Jeff,” Jarod called. “We’re just getting wet here. Send the boy to me. We’ll go, you’ll get your money, and we can all be happy and dry within the hour. What do you say?”
There was another long pause during which the rain began to beat down in chilly sheets. Movement at the edge of the trees about fifty yards away caught Jarod’s eye.
A boy dressed in a private school uniform cautiously emerged from the woods. The child had light brown hair and freckles across his nose. He moved in slow methodical steps and as he came closer, Jarod could see the boy’s gray eyes were wide with fright.
Parker’s voice whispered through Jarod’s mind. The warning she had given him earlier repeated clearly, “Teddy’s been taught to distrust strangers. You must tell him who you are as soon as possible.”
“Hi there, Ted,” Jarod said in a calming voice. “My name is Jarod.”
The little boy hesitated for a moment, his eyes growing even larger. For a split second, Jarod feared that the child would bolt. A heartbeat later, Teddy did run. He dashed straight toward the pretender, nearly bowling the tall man over when they collided.
Tucking the boy under one arm, Jarod ran down the path, now slick with moisture. Slipping and sliding in the mud, Jarod moved as quickly as he could, trying to get as much distance as possible between him and the kidnapper. He rounded the corner and was forced to slow down as the path became steeper and more narrow.
There was a popping sound from behind followed quickly by a cry of pain.
“What was that?” the little boy asked as he bounced on Jarod’s hip.
“Our friend just opened the envelope,” Jarod explained. He tried to quicken the pace, but the rain had become a torrential downpour making the path muddy and treacherous.
There was a gunshot and Jarod ducked, nearly slipping as a bullet ricocheted off the rock wall beside him. Rounding another bend in the path, Jarod looked around frantically. They would only be out of sight of their pursuer for a few moments. Looking up, Jarod found sudden inspiration in a stone outcropping just above his head.
“Climb up there Ted,” Jarod ordered as he hefted the boy in the air.
The child obediently scrambled onto the ledge. Jarod crouched low trying to gain momentum as he jumped into the air and grabbed the rock shelf. Hauling his body onto the narrow space, Jarod gasped as the sharp rock cut into his palm.
Taking Teddy by the hand, Jarod carefully maneuvered his way along the ledge until he reached the small crevice he had seen from below. The space was small, only big enough for the boy and about half of Jarod’s tall frame. But it was enough. The child would be dry and protected from harm by Jarod’s body. And the pretender’s dark leather jacket would serve as camouflage against the rocks.
Jarod put one finger to his lips in a hushing motion as sounds of exertion reached them. A very displeased voice was grumbling and swearing the most vulgar of oaths as its owner passed not far away. There was a distinctive slosh followed by a splat and a particularly repulsive swear word.
Teddy looked up at Jarod and even in the dark the pretender could see the boy’s eyes twinkling mischievously. Placing his hand over the child’s mouth, Jarod shook his head and again motioned for quiet. Teddy placed his own little hand over the big one covering his mouth as he tried to stifle a giggle.
The sounds from below began to fade and after a minute or two there was no noise but the rain falling outside the meager shelter.
“We’re okay, now, but we’ll wait a little longer to be sure it’s safe.” Jarod said after a few more minutes. “We can talk, but not too loudly.”
The child nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry I almost laughed,” Teddy said.
Jarod grinned at the little boy. “You have your sister’s sense of humor,” he said with a chuckle.
“She said you would come,” Teddy told him.
“What?” Jarod blinked in surprise.
“Mom said that I should never trust a stranger,” Teddy explained. “She said no matter what, she would never send a stranger to come for me and I shouldn’t believe anyone who told me any different. Not even a policeman.”
Jarod nodded. “Is that why you almost ran away from me earlier?” he asked.
“Oh no,” Teddy shook his head. “Mom said that if anything bad ever happened, she would come and get me. She would come or she would send Jarod. No one else.”
“Really?” the pretender asked.
“Is she okay?” Teddy asked fearfully. “She’s not hurt or anything is she?”
Jarod shook his head. “She’s fine, Teddy. She’s worried about you, but she’s fine.”
The boy visibly relaxed, tension slipping from his little shoulders.
“How about you?” Jarod asked. “Are you hurt?”
Teddy shrugged. “My wrists hurt,” he said. “He put tape around them for a long time. But mostly I’m just hungry.”
“A kindred spirit,” Jarod laughed. Rummaging through his pockets was an awkward exercise in the tight quarters but he managed to find a candy bar for the boy.
Jarod watched silently as Teddy devoured the treat. His shoulders were starting to ache due to his hunched position in the crevice. His back was exposed to the rain causing cold shivers down his spine. He was tired and just as hungry as young Teddy. And yet the pretender couldn’t help but smile.
This was why Jarod did the job he did. At moments like this, he loved his work and could almost forget the days when he hated it. The look of trust and complete confidence that the boy beamed up at him made Jarod feel ten feet tall.
“What do you say, Ted?” Jarod asked as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Are you ready to go home?”
“Yes sir!”
Jarod slipped off his jacket and wrapped it protectively around the little boy before backing out of their hiding spot. Lifting the boy in his arms, Jarod grinned at him as rain began to flatten the fair hair against the small head.
“Do you know what, Ted?” Jarod said. “Sometimes the bad guy loses.”
Teddy laughed. “The bad guy always loses Jarod. Sooner or later, the good guys will win.”
“Let’s get you home.”
-
Veil of Contentment - Part 3 - By Phenyx - 04/03/04
-
“There he is again,” Jarod murmured in a low dangerous voice as he tapped his index finger on the monitor in front of him. “Rewind the tape to the earlier instance. That was a better image of his face.”
“You have no proof that this is our guy,” Agent Harrison stated as Broots hit the rewind button. The group had spent the last ten hours skimming through nearly twenty days worth of security footage from the museum.
“That’s him,” Jarod said confidently. “He is the only regular visitor over the past few weeks fitting the description of our suspect.”
“Could be coincidence,” Harrison argued.
Jarod sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He was bone tired and his patience was wearing thin. “Look, the guy wandered through that place for hours on no less than six separate occasions in the last fifteen days,” he said.
“With a sketchbook,” the agent snapped. “Just like a dozen other art students.”
“He’s not a student,” Jarod growled. “No artist worth spit would be drawing with a plain yellow, number two pencil. This guy was casing the joint.”
“What do we do now?” Miss Parker asked as she perched on the table beside the monitor.
“We compare this image to a few police databases and hope we get lucky,” Jarod said. “This guy may have had trouble with the law before.” Looking toward Broots he added, “Lets start with the Blue Cove P.D. Then we’ll widen our search to Dover.”
“You plan on looking at every mug shot in the state?” Agent Harrison sneered.
“No,” Jarod yawned. “I have a program that can compare facial representations and flag possible matches for us. It works much faster and we only have to look at the images the computer marks for us. I usually use it to identify John Doe morgue shots, but this is the same principle.”
“Jarod,” Sydney chided with concern. “You look exhausted.”
The pretender nodded. “It’s been a rough week,” he admitted wryly. “I’ll show Broots how to monitor the program then I’ll grab an hour’s rest.”
Jarod wound up sleeping twice as long as he’d intended. When he woke, he stormed through the livingroom ignoring the officers standing there. Irritated with himself for dallying in bed, the pretender’s tongue was much sharper than he realized as he entered the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” he snapped at Sydney.
The older man sitting at the table cradled a mug between his palms. He showed little remorse. “You were tired,” Sydney said. “There’s nothing to be done until we get a hit on the image search anyway.”
Jarod shook his head in resignation as he served himself. “Where’s Parker?” he asked after he had sipped for a moment at the hot brew.
“I sent her off to bed right after you,” Sydney explained. “She hadn’t closed her eyes for a moment since Teddy disappeared. I had to threaten to sedate her.”
Jarod nodded as he drank his coffee. “It’s natural for her to be upset.”
“You are the only reason she has relaxed enough to get some rest,” Sydney said. “She has complete confidence in the fact that you will bring the boy back.”
Sitting in the chair opposite his old mentor, Jarod sighed. “Nothing like a little pressure to increase the old pretender’s performance,” he said wryly.
“Do you doubt your abilities, Jarod?” Sydney asked with gentle concern.
Jarod snorted. The sound was so like a Miss Parker scoff that Sydney had to marvel at it. “I am the best P.I. in the business Sydney. No one tackles a missing child case the way I do.”
“For obvious reasons,” Sydney added.
Jarod paused, gazing thoughtfully into his cup. “But being the best doesn’t mean much in this business,” he said in a soft voice. “Sometimes a child is dead before anyone even realizes they are missing. I’m not unlike one of those dogs used to sniff at the rubble after a building collapse. It’s my job to find the bodies.”
“That’s a very pessimistic view Jarod,” Sydney said. “If the experience is so difficult for you, why continue to do it?”
“I can’t give up on them, those still missing,” Jarod explained. “A private investigator was hired to find me once. A long, long time ago.” Dark brown eyes gazed sadly at the aging psychiatrist. “He gave up. He stopped looking for me. What if he had searched for one more day? What if that one day was all it would have taken to find me?”
“Jarod,” Sydney began.
Jarod went on, cutting off Sydney’s comment. “Besides, I owe it all those sweet little children who sacrifice their lives to the monsters who abduct them. There are hundreds of them Sydney, every year. Children snatched from playgrounds, school yards, bedrooms,” the pretender’s voice cracked and he had to inhale deeply to reign in his emotions. “Little boys and girls who are tortured raped and mutilated. The Centre didn’t corner the market on cruelty you know.”
Sydney nodded solemnly.
“I owe it to them, Sydney,” Jarod said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Because I was one of them. I was one of them that lived.”
The older man sniffed, very near tears. “I am so sorry, Jarod,” he sighed. “I am sorry for the life you were denied. I am sorry for the pain you were forced to endure.”
“No, Sydney,” Jarod smiled a wavering grin at his old mentor. “Don’t apologize. You are the reason I survived. I know that. If not for you I would have been no more than a case number in some file. Another of the woeful little corpses I come across far too often. Without your protection, Raines would have killed me. I’m sure of it. I would have let him.” Jarod shook his head as he continued. “I’m the one who is sorry, Sydney. You lost so much because of me; your brother, your son. You lost as many years as I.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Sydney assured him. “It was not your fault.”
For a long moment, the two men gazed at each other across the table. Each realized that this was as close as they would ever get to forgiving one another. Complete forgiveness would probably forever elude them. Regret would gnaw at them all their lives. But at least they could set aside blame.
Sydney stood with his cup and crossed the room toward the coffee pot. As he passed Jarod, he placed one hand on the pretender’s shoulder and gave him an affectionate squeeze. In the thirty years they had been together, such displays had been nearly unheard of. There had been the occasional hug in recent years, but those had usually been to mask the passing of some object or message. This simple gesture, unsolicited and without guile, made Jarod’s face light up with pure adoration.
“This must all be very difficult for your parents to understand,” Sydney said as he poured more coffee into his mug. He held the pot toward Jarod with a questioning glance.
The pretender nodded, offering his cup for a refill. “I’ve never talked to them about it,” Jarod admitted casually.
Sydney frowned in confusion. “How much do they know about those years spent in The Centre?”
“I don’t know,” Jarod said with a shrug. “Dad has a better idea than Mom. He’s seen some of the DSAs. But we’ve never really discussed it.”
Sydney sank back into his seat with a thud. “Don’t they want to know where you’ve been all this time?”
“Well sure,” Jarod said. “But what do you suggest I tell them? How do I explain to my mother that Catherine Parker was one of the kindest, most compassionate souls I have ever known? My mother holds Mrs. Parker responsible for kidnapping me. How shall I explain the way I feel about you Sydney? How do I tell my father that hundreds, maybe thousands, of people have died because I wanted to make you proud of me? What can I tell my wife when the woman who pursued me relentlessly for more than six years calls, and I drop everything to answer?”
Jarod shook his head. “No Sydney,” he continued. “It is easier this way.”
“For now, perhaps,” Sydney replied. “But the longer you hide your true self from those you love, the harder it will become.”
Jarod frowned at his coffee as he mulled over Sydney’s words. He wasn’t given much time to think. Mr. Broots burst into the room excitedly.
“We’ve got a hit,” the balding tech gasped.
Jarod scrambled from his chair and was across the room in a flash. “Wake Miss Parker,” he ordered.
-
Jarod glanced up at a sky heavy with clouds. The dark gray blanket overhead threatened to burst at any moment. If his plan worked, rain could work in their favor. But if it didn’t, he would have to track the kidnapper and a storm would cause more than a few problems.
The hiking trail at Middlefield Park was more of a climbing trail. The path wound up the steep side of an ancient gorge. There had been a mudslide earlier in the season, causing the trail to be closed to the public until it could be properly shored up. As Jarod followed the instructions that had been stapled to the post at the start of the trail, he had been forced to climb over the chain link fence that blocked his way.
Jarod moved up the incline as quickly as he could. He carried only the silver briefcase that held the ransom money. It was amazing how heavy one hundred thousand dollars could be when you tried to jog up a cliff side with it.
Jarod rounded a bend in the trail and found himself on a small plateau overlooking the gorge. It was a stunningly beautiful spot. It would be magnificent in the fall. But Jarod had no time to admire the view.
“Hold it right there,” a man’s voice demanded.
Jarod stopped immediately, scanning the area with his eyes. He could see no one. A drop of wetness fell from the sky onto Jarod’s cheek, causing him to flinch slightly.
“I have the money,” the pretender called out.
“Let’s see it,” the voice came again.
Jarod held the briefcase on his forearm and opened it one handed. Turning the open valise away from him, he turned slowly in all directions to display the contents. He still could not see the suspect.
“Put the case on the ground and go back the way you came,” the disembodied voice called.
“No can do,” Jarod replied. “I get the boy first.”
“Do as I say or you’ll get nothing but pieces!” the voice cried. As if to emphasize this point there was an abrupt shriek of a frightened child echoing in the air.
Jarod cautiously placed the briefcase on the ground and took two steps back. “I want the boy,” he yelled.
“When I get my money, I’ll send him down the trail,” was the response.
Slowly reaching into his leather jacket, Jarod pulled a thick manila envelope from his inner pocket. Holding the wad aloft he called, “I can offer you double if you give me the child now.”
There was a long pause. “Leave it with the rest,” the voice called.
Jarod pulled out his trump card and prayed to God that he wasn’t wrong. “Listen Jeff,” the pretender called in a friendly tone. “You don’t mind if I call you Jeff, do you? Or do you prefer Jeffrey?”
Silence hung in the air as rain began to fall in fat drops.
“I’ve been hired to bring back the kid and that’s what I intend to do,” Jarod called in a casual voice. “Now we can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. Up to you really.” Jarod took two more large steps backward and then very deliberately placed the envelope on the ground. “Two hundred thousand dollars Jeff. Just sitting here waiting for you to come get it.”
“You leave,” came the voice again.
“Not without the kid,” Jarod stated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.
For a long minute the pretender stood there quietly, watching the tree line as the raindrops increased.
“Look Jeff,” Jarod called. “We’re just getting wet here. Send the boy to me. We’ll go, you’ll get your money, and we can all be happy and dry within the hour. What do you say?”
There was another long pause during which the rain began to beat down in chilly sheets. Movement at the edge of the trees about fifty yards away caught Jarod’s eye.
A boy dressed in a private school uniform cautiously emerged from the woods. The child had light brown hair and freckles across his nose. He moved in slow methodical steps and as he came closer, Jarod could see the boy’s gray eyes were wide with fright.
Parker’s voice whispered through Jarod’s mind. The warning she had given him earlier repeated clearly, “Teddy’s been taught to distrust strangers. You must tell him who you are as soon as possible.”
“Hi there, Ted,” Jarod said in a calming voice. “My name is Jarod.”
The little boy hesitated for a moment, his eyes growing even larger. For a split second, Jarod feared that the child would bolt. A heartbeat later, Teddy did run. He dashed straight toward the pretender, nearly bowling the tall man over when they collided.
Tucking the boy under one arm, Jarod ran down the path, now slick with moisture. Slipping and sliding in the mud, Jarod moved as quickly as he could, trying to get as much distance as possible between him and the kidnapper. He rounded the corner and was forced to slow down as the path became steeper and more narrow.
There was a popping sound from behind followed quickly by a cry of pain.
“What was that?” the little boy asked as he bounced on Jarod’s hip.
“Our friend just opened the envelope,” Jarod explained. He tried to quicken the pace, but the rain had become a torrential downpour making the path muddy and treacherous.
There was a gunshot and Jarod ducked, nearly slipping as a bullet ricocheted off the rock wall beside him. Rounding another bend in the path, Jarod looked around frantically. They would only be out of sight of their pursuer for a few moments. Looking up, Jarod found sudden inspiration in a stone outcropping just above his head.
“Climb up there Ted,” Jarod ordered as he hefted the boy in the air.
The child obediently scrambled onto the ledge. Jarod crouched low trying to gain momentum as he jumped into the air and grabbed the rock shelf. Hauling his body onto the narrow space, Jarod gasped as the sharp rock cut into his palm.
Taking Teddy by the hand, Jarod carefully maneuvered his way along the ledge until he reached the small crevice he had seen from below. The space was small, only big enough for the boy and about half of Jarod’s tall frame. But it was enough. The child would be dry and protected from harm by Jarod’s body. And the pretender’s dark leather jacket would serve as camouflage against the rocks.
Jarod put one finger to his lips in a hushing motion as sounds of exertion reached them. A very displeased voice was grumbling and swearing the most vulgar of oaths as its owner passed not far away. There was a distinctive slosh followed by a splat and a particularly repulsive swear word.
Teddy looked up at Jarod and even in the dark the pretender could see the boy’s eyes twinkling mischievously. Placing his hand over the child’s mouth, Jarod shook his head and again motioned for quiet. Teddy placed his own little hand over the big one covering his mouth as he tried to stifle a giggle.
The sounds from below began to fade and after a minute or two there was no noise but the rain falling outside the meager shelter.
“We’re okay, now, but we’ll wait a little longer to be sure it’s safe.” Jarod said after a few more minutes. “We can talk, but not too loudly.”
The child nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry I almost laughed,” Teddy said.
Jarod grinned at the little boy. “You have your sister’s sense of humor,” he said with a chuckle.
“She said you would come,” Teddy told him.
“What?” Jarod blinked in surprise.
“Mom said that I should never trust a stranger,” Teddy explained. “She said no matter what, she would never send a stranger to come for me and I shouldn’t believe anyone who told me any different. Not even a policeman.”
Jarod nodded. “Is that why you almost ran away from me earlier?” he asked.
“Oh no,” Teddy shook his head. “Mom said that if anything bad ever happened, she would come and get me. She would come or she would send Jarod. No one else.”
“Really?” the pretender asked.
“Is she okay?” Teddy asked fearfully. “She’s not hurt or anything is she?”
Jarod shook his head. “She’s fine, Teddy. She’s worried about you, but she’s fine.”
The boy visibly relaxed, tension slipping from his little shoulders.
“How about you?” Jarod asked. “Are you hurt?”
Teddy shrugged. “My wrists hurt,” he said. “He put tape around them for a long time. But mostly I’m just hungry.”
“A kindred spirit,” Jarod laughed. Rummaging through his pockets was an awkward exercise in the tight quarters but he managed to find a candy bar for the boy.
Jarod watched silently as Teddy devoured the treat. His shoulders were starting to ache due to his hunched position in the crevice. His back was exposed to the rain causing cold shivers down his spine. He was tired and just as hungry as young Teddy. And yet the pretender couldn’t help but smile.
This was why Jarod did the job he did. At moments like this, he loved his work and could almost forget the days when he hated it. The look of trust and complete confidence that the boy beamed up at him made Jarod feel ten feet tall.
“What do you say, Ted?” Jarod asked as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Are you ready to go home?”
“Yes sir!”
Jarod slipped off his jacket and wrapped it protectively around the little boy before backing out of their hiding spot. Lifting the boy in his arms, Jarod grinned at him as rain began to flatten the fair hair against the small head.
“Do you know what, Ted?” Jarod said. “Sometimes the bad guy loses.”
Teddy laughed. “The bad guy always loses Jarod. Sooner or later, the good guys will win.”
“Let’s get you home.”
