Chapter 14

As he watched the scene in the elevator play out on Broots’ computer screen, Sydney felt a chill go through him as he recognized the device in Lyle’s hands.  That was the same box he’d pulled out in the sim lab a couple of weeks ago and asked Jarod if he should demonstrate what it did; at the time, Sydney had sensed any such demonstration would be bad for Jarod.  Now, seeing that he’d been right, his hands balled into fists, and he was thankful they were hidden in the pockets of his tweed blazer.  He needed to project an aura of calm on the room right now, and it was taking all of his psychiatric skills to keep his emotions from showing on his face.

            Miss Parker had arrived in the tech lab a short while ago in a highly agitated state, which, after she’d filled them in on what Lyle had just done to Jarod, was completely understandable.  She’d paced the cramped confines of Broots’ office while he’d pulled up the security footage from a camera directly across from the elevator.  Once he started playing the recording, however, she’d sat down in a chair in a corner of the computer lab, like she wanted to be as far away as possible from the replay of what she’d just witnessed first-hand.  Even though he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the disturbing images on the monitor, Sydney could sense an unnatural stillness from her side of the room; he worried she might be going into shock.  Not a reaction he’d normally expect from her, but with what she’d been through in the last week, it was completely normal. Which was just one more reason that he needed to put on his doctor demeanor right now.

            Beside him, Broots was making no attempt to hide his own distress from viewing the events that had recently unfolded.  He squirmed in his desk chair as Jarod spasmed from the electric shocks and actually let out a small gasp when the hulking Sweeper Tony aimed his gun at Miss Parker.  After Jarod had been dragged off-camera, Broots paused the recording and sat in stunned silence for a few seconds before saying, “Well, um, I, I…” He cleared his throat and tried again.  “I, I can’t believe Tony actually pointed his, his gun at you, Miss Parker.”

            Miss Parker didn’t respond.  Sydney wondered if she’d even heard the comment; she was staring into space, perhaps reliving the terrible scene in the elevator.

            He straightened and felt his back twinge in protest.  Yes, he was getting old, but he thought the pain was more from the tension he’d felt as he viewed the camera footage more than from the half-bent position he’d been in while watching it.  “Several factors undoubtedly led to Tony’s seemingly brash action,” Sydney said in response to Broots’ statement.  “First, he was ordered to restrain Miss Parker, and his job is to follow orders.  As the gun was already in his hand, it’s only logical that he would aim it at her when she made a move indicating she was ready to resist.  Second, as we saw earlier on the recording, he’d just been in an unexpected physical altercation with Jarod and had come out on the losing end; he was probably feeling the need to impress upon his boss that he was still an effective security guard.  And third, he was witnessing his superior – Lyle – put on an impressive display of dominance over Jarod, who is somewhat of a legend here at the Centre; seeing Lyle literally bring Jarod to his knees further emboldened Tony into believing he could also subdue a formidable opponent.”

            Miss Parker snorted and said, “Which is just fancy shrink talk for ‘the big lug is too dumb to realize he shouldn’t mess with me.’”

            Sydney felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  It was good to see Miss Parker acting like herself again, and he actually felt better after spouting all that psycho-babble; shop talk always soothed him.

            “Tony may not be all that smart,” Broots said, “but he’s good at his job.  That guy’s built like a tank!  I certainly wouldn’t want to fight him.  And I’m glad you didn’t have to, Miss Parker.  Um, not that you couldn’t,” he added quickly as her blue eyes turned steely, “but it’s just that you shouldn’t.  Right now, I mean.  Later, after you’re stronger, then sure, you could fight him…and win!  Not that I hope you do… have to fight him, I mean.  Um…”

            “Broots is right, Miss Parker,” Sydney interjected before she hauled off and hit Broots just to prove how strong she was right now, “That virus took a tremendous toll on your body.  You need more time to recover fully.”  He paused.  “I’m just glad Jarod chose to end the confrontation when he did or you might have found yourself in some serious trouble.”

            He didn’t flinch from her sharpened gaze.  He’d meant exactly what he’d said; Jarod had chosen to “give in” to Lyle.  And it wasn’t a coincidence that he did it precisely when Miss Parker was about to get into a losing battle with Tony.

            He could tell she’d figured that out, too, whether or not she was willing to admit it out loud.  She abruptly stood up and stalked over to Broots’ desk.  “So, what are we going to do about Lyle’s little black box?” she asked briskly.

            Broots blinked.  “Do?”

            “We can’t let him zap Jarod whenever the hell he wants to,” she said.

            Sydney silently applauded that sentiment, but Broots still looked confused.             Miss Parker noticed his hesitation and, as usual, was not pleased by it.  “What?” she prompted impatiently.

            “Well, it’s just that… um, you don’t usually interfere with Centre policy when it comes to Jarod.  I mean, you’ve willingly hunted him for years to bring him back here.”

            “Not to be tortured by Lyle!  What he’s doing to Jarod is for his own sick pleasure and has nothing to do with Centre policy.  I’m not going to let my brother get away with it.”  She jabbed a long red fingernail at Broots.  “And you’re going to help me figure out a way to stop him.”

            Ah, yes, everything she did was to thwart the evil Lyle’s plans.  Sydney was proud that she was willing to do the right thing but disappointed that she still couldn’t bring herself to openly acknowledge the true reason for her actions: she didn’t want Jarod to get hurt because she cared about him.

            The door to the tech lab slid open and Lyle strode into the room.  “Good, you’re all here,” he said cheerfully.      

            Sydney immediately stepped forward.  “Is Jarod alright?  Where is he?  I want to see him.”

            Some of Lyle’s good humor evaporated.  He rolled his eyes.  “Sydney, Sydney, don’t you ever get tired of that same old refrain?”  He sighed then went on with a slight sing-song tone, “Jarod is fine, he’s resting comfortably in his cell.  And no, you can’t see him.  No one can.  Orders of the Triumverate.  Jarod is to be placed in solitary confinement for a period of time as standard punishment for whenever he acts up.”

            “Acts up?” Miss Parker echoed.

            Lyle focused on her.  “Well, what do you call hijacking the elevator and trying to escape?  Although I’m not sure what he thought he was going to do.  Climb through the shaft and hide in the conduits for the forseeable future?  He can’t leave the building without getting shocked.”  He shrugged.  “Anyway, sis, good thing you distracted him long enough for us to get the doors open and regain control of the situation.  I was surprised you hadn’t even drawn your gun.”

            “I don’t need to use my gun on Jarod,” Miss Parker said.

            “No, I suppose not,” Lyle said slowly, a smile playing across his lips.  “You have other weapons at your disposal to use against Jarod.”  He gave his sister a long, appreciative look from head to toe.

            Sydney saw Miss Parker’s eyes flash blue fire.  “What do you want, Lyle?” he asked sharply.

            Lyle returned his attention to Sydney.  “To do you – all of you – a favor.  I imagine you’ve huddled together to discuss this wondrous little device here.”  He pulled the black box out of his pocket and held it up.  Sydney sensed the heightened awareness of both Miss Parker and Broots and wondered if they all had the same idea of wresting that damn box out of Lyle’s hands.

            Lyle didn’t seem concerned, but Sydney noticed he’d stayed near the door, out of reach of any of the room’s other occupants. “I thought I’d save you some time and trouble and give you a rundown of some of the custom features of this marvel of technology,” he said pleasantly.  “First of all, should anyone try to tamper with the device, its safeties will automatically be overridden and a high-voltage shock will be delivered to Jarod.  A potentially lethal shock.”

            “Just making the transmitter disappear,” Lyle went on, looking pointedly at Broots, “won’t work either.  You see, a special code must be entered every day to keep the device operating within the safety parameters.”

            “A code that only I know,” Lyle’s cool gaze fell upon Miss Parker again, “so if I should disappear, the result will be disastrous for poor Jarod.”

            “If Jarod dies,” Miss Parker said, her voice low and menacing, “how many more breaths do you think you’ll take, dear brother?”

            “Oh, I’m sure several heads will roll here at the Centre, but Jarod will still be dead.  None of us want that, do we?”

            Sydney could not believe how casually Lyle said that.  The man truly had no conscience.

            “Oh, and Sydney?” Lyle turned back to him.  “I wouldn’t play doctor and attempt to remove Jarod’s implant all by yourself.  One wrong move and your boy’s a vegetable.”

            Sydney hoped the murderous thoughts he was having did not show on his face.

            Lyle put the black box back in his pocket. “There,” he said, sounding satisfied.  “I trust we all understand each other?”  He didn’t wait for a response, just turned and left the lab.

            Sydney hurried after him.  “Lyle, wait!”

            Lyle came to a reluctant halt and turned around.  Now that he’d delivered his message, he was obviously impatient to be on his way.  “What is it, Sydney?”

            He told himself that past events had made Lyle into the monster he was today.  He needed help.  “You’re a sick man, you know that?”

            “So I’ve been told,” Lyle commented dryly.  “By you, in fact.  And your point is…?”

            “I can give you the names of some highly reputable therapists.”

            The look of surprise that came across Lyle’s face was almost comical.  “You’re suggesting I see a shrink?” he said.

            “I believe it would help you to get some counseling, yes.  At the very least, you should consider taking anger management classes.”

            “I think I manage my anger just fine, thank you.”

            Sydney kept trying.  “Lyle, with your traumatic childhood–”

            Lyle was suddenly right in his face, as quick as a striking snake.  “And just what do you think you know about my childhood, Sydney?” he said, his eyes feverishly bright.  “I can tell you all about it, if that’s what you really want.  What do you say?  Would you like to be my doctor?”

            Sydney refused to back away.  “I don’t think that would be in your best interest,” he said evenly.

            Lyle stared at him a beat longer then stepped back himself.  “You’re probably right.  Didn’t you have a session with my mother just before she killed herself?  At least that’s the story, right?”  He flashed a quick, hard smile before turning and walking away.

            Sydney watched him go and told himself that at least he’d made the attempt.  If Lyle refused professional help, well… the man deserved whatever it took to stop him.

            Back in the computer lab, Miss Parker was still hounding poor Broots to work technological miracles.  Far from dissuading her, Lyle’s visit seemed to have made her more determined than ever to find a way to disable his electric shock transmitter.  She was leaning over the desk, her palms flat on the surface, her face only inches from Broots’.

            “Lyle was right when he told us he was saving us time and trouble,” she was saying as Sydney re-entered the room.  “Now that you know what won’t work, you’re ahead of the game.  So it should be easier to figure out a method that will be successful.”

            Broots looked unconvinced.  Seemingly unable to look away from Miss Parker’s intense gaze, he tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his undershirt.  Sydney surmised he was in torment over the invasion of his personal space, especially by a woman to whom he was not-so-secretly attracted.

            Sydney cleared his throat to draw attention away from Broots.

            Miss Parker spared him a sideways glance but remained in her hovering pose.  “You didn’t shoot him, did you, Syd?” she asked.

            She never let him forget the time he’d shot Raines’ oxygen tank to save Jarod, a fact that had both stunned and, he suspected, impressed her.  Her faintly wistful tone indicated that she half-hoped he’d answer in the affirmative.

            “I suggested he see a psychiatrist,” he responded.

            That got her full attention.  She straightened and turned to face him.  “I bet that went over well,” she said.

            “Mm.  As you’d expect.”  Sydney noticed Broots slump slightly in his chair, as if relieved.

            “Do you really think therapy could help him?”

            Something in her voice made him study her more closely.  She wasn’t being sarcastic.  Her thoughtful expression made him realize she was asking a serious question, perhaps wondering for the first time if her psychotic brother could somehow change.

            “As a psychiatrist, I believe most people could benefit from some form of counseling, but in Lyle’s case…”  Sydney sighed.  “The damage that was inflicted on him as a child by his foster parents may be too great to repair.  Torture leaves a deep imprint on the human psyche, and the fact that he was subjected to such treatment during his formative years means that those experiences greatly influenced the man he grew up to be.”

            “A man who now tortures others.  And worse.”  Her eyes widened briefly and she looked close to tears, but then she shook her head vigorously, as if brushing away whatever emotion had momentarily seized her.  “Look, I know Lyle’s foster father locked him in a wood shed when he was a child, but the things my brother has done since… Don’t you dare tell me, Syd, that I’m supposed to feel sorry for him.”

            “No,” Sydney said softly.  “Lyle’s past suffering does not absolve him of the crimes he’s committed.”

            He felt vaguely disloyal to his profession in saying that, because he knew the insanity plea often had merit.  However, he also recognized he could never be objective in this case; Lyle had hurt people he cared about, including the woman who stood in front of him with the relief she felt at his answer showing clearly on her face.  Not many things in her world were black and white, so if he could help her label Lyle as an irredeemable psychopath, then that’s what he would do.

            “Um, speaking of the crimes Lyle has committed…  I may have found something that supports our theory that he infected you with the African virus, Miss Parker.”

            Her gaze swung sharply to Broots.  “You have proof?”

            “Well, um, not exactly.  I mean, I think it’s enough to strongly suggest he did it, but I’m not sure everyone would see it that way.  I mean, I guess that doesn’t matter, it’s not like we have to present it as evidence to a jury, which is a shame because I think Lyle should have to answer for his crimes.  Especially for this!  I mean, he could have killed you!”

            Sydney could tell that Miss Parker was about to explode, so he quickly said, “Broots, just tell us what you found.” 

            The techie had been looking down at his computer while he rambled, but now one quick glance at Miss Parker’s face seemed to convince him to get to the point sooner rather than later.  “Okay.”  He squared his shoulders and sat up straighter, seeming to gather his thoughts.  “Lyle told us that Miss Parker somehow contaminated herself when she was in his office – I mean, Mr. Parker’s office – on Friday afternoon.  We know he’s lying,” he added hastily, apologetically, “but since she can’t remember anything from the days leading up to her collapse, I had to use that as a place to start.  There’s only one camera that I know about in the Tower – aimed at the elevator – but it’s password protected, so I couldn’t access that footage.  I do have a record of Miss Parker getting off the Tower elevator on the Main Concourse level late Friday afternoon.  One hour later the same camera shows Lyle getting off on this level, as well.  Then there’s the footage from the new camera Lyle had installed right outside Miss Parker’s office.”

            To spy on their frequent conversations outside her door, Sydney knew.

            Broots went on, “That camera shows Lyle going into Miss Parker’s office – without knocking first – about an hour after she did.”

            “Lyle was in my office?” Miss Parker shook her head, and Sydney could feel her frustration with the gaps in her memory.

            Broots nodded.  “For about ten minutes.  What’s interesting is what he was wearing when he came out of your office.  Gloves!” 

            “So?  He always wears a glove on his left hand.”

            “Not a glove, gloves plural.  White latex gloves, like the kind worn by medical personnel.”

            “Let me see.”  Miss Parker went around behind his desk, and Sydney looked over her shoulder.

            Broots tapped a few keys and up came the video recording of Lyle leaving Miss Parker’s office and walking down the hall.  Broots paused the image and they could all clearly see the white plastic gloves covering both of Lyle’s hands.

            “I’ll be damned,” Sydney said. 

            “No, Lyle will be,” Miss Parker said grimly.

            Sydney noticed something else in the photo.  “He’s carrying a briefcase.”

            “Yeah, I wondered about that, too,” Broots said thoughtfully, staring at the screen.  “He doesn’t usually carry one, and a syringe and gloves would have fit in his pockets.  So why the briefcase?  And a pretty large one at that.”

“Large enough to hold a bottle of Scotch?” Miss Parker asked slowly.

            Sydney looked at her.  “Are you remembering something?”

            She stared off into the middle distance, her brow creased in concentration.  “I’m not sure.  Nothing from that afternoon, but the next morning… I think I woke up in my office and felt like I had a hangover.  I was surprised that I’d had enough to drink the night before to pass out on my couch.  I like a drink now and then, but I rarely let myself get drunk.”

            “Perhaps Lyle drugged your Scotch,” Sydney suggested.  “Then he waited until he knew the sedatives would have taken effect, came to your office, injected you with the virus, and left with the tainted bottle in his briefcase.”

            “Oh,” Broots breathed, looking horrified and impressed at the same time.  “He really had this planned out.”

            “Broots, make me a copy of that recording,” Miss Parker ordered then added absently, “Good job.”

            She strode away from the desk quickly, so she never saw the pathetically pleased expression on Broots’ face; he looked like a puppy that had been given an unexpected treat by its master.  Sydney saw it and sighed inwardly; he’d thought that Broots had gotten over his infatuation with Miss Parker.  She’d made it clear that nothing was going to happen between them, and now with Jarod back in close proximity… Well, Sydney had a feeling that more than ever, Broots didn’t stand a chance.

            She leaned her back against the wall and wearily ran her fingers through her hair.  A strange look crossed her face, and she abruptly let her arms fall to her sides.  Sydney went over to her and said quietly, “Parker, I really think you should go home and get some-”

            “…rest.  I know,” she said resignedly.  “I will.  I want to be at my best tomorrow when I talk to my father.”

            “What are you going to tell him?”

            “What Lyle did to me!  What Lyle did to Jarod.”  Her mouth was set in a thin, hard line.  “Daddy needs to realize just how dangerous Lyle has become.”

            “And then what?”

            Miss Parker blinked.  “Well…then we stop him.”

            “How?  It won’t be easy.  Lyle currently has the support of The Triumverate.”

            “’Currently’ being the key word.  He used to be in favor with the Yakuza clan, too, back when he still had both thumbs.”  Miss Parker smiled grimly.  “Until my father and I decided he was a threat.  When Daddy and I team up, we’re unstoppable.”

            “That was before your father knew that Lyle was his son,” Sydney pointed out.  “Don’t get your hopes up, Parker.  It’s highly unlikely that he’s going to side with you against Lyle this time.”

            “You sound like Jarod,” she said sourly.

            Sydney moved closer and asked quietly, “What happened between you and Jarod in the elevator before Lyle showed up?”

            She shrugged.  “Not much.  It was as Lyle said.  I think Jarod had some crazy idea about shimmying up the elevator shaft, but he got distracted when he saw me.  Thank goodness.  I don’t think he thought this plan all the way through.  I mean, he can’t set foot outside the building without being shocked.  He would have been stuck crawling around the ventilation shafts until God knows when.  The last thing we need is another Angelo.”

            Miss Parker was acting way too nonchalant and talking too fast; she was definitely keeping something from him.  He’d let it go…for the moment.  “Hm.  Perhaps Jarod just wanted to hide within the Centre until he could figure a way past the ‘invisible fence.’  At least he’d be away from Lyle’s little black box.”

            “We’re going to take care of that problem for him,” she said with determination.  “Jarod saved my life.  It’s the least I can do.  Broots!”

            “Huh?” Broots’ head snapped up as Miss Parker strode back to his desk.  “Oh, um, I’ve got that copy of the security footage you wanted right here.” He held up a mini flash drive.  “All you have to do is plug it into the USB drive on your computer and-”

            “I know how to do it.”  She snatched the drive from his hand.  “Get to work on deactivating Lyle’s shock transmitter.”  She turned on her heel and left the computer lab.

            “Sure, no problem,” Broots muttered.  He leaned his chin on his fist and stared meditatively at his computer screen.

            Sydney moved to the side of the desk.  “What is it, Broots?” he asked, sensing his colleague was beset by more than just his usual worries about finishing a task to Miss Parker’s satisfaction.

            Broots gestured to the monitor, which still showed the video from the elevator.  “It’s just that, well, we’ve known for a while what kind of sick freak Lyle is, but to actually see him get such pleasure out of torturing Jarod… I just can’t believe he and Miss Parker are brother and sister!  Sure, she’s tough as nails and will do what’s necessary, but she’d never be so cruel.”

            Sydney folded his arms across his chest and rocked back slightly on his heels.  “It’s the old nature versus nurture argument, Broots,” he mused.  “They were born of the same mother, but only Miss Parker received the benefit of that mother’s love.  Even though their relationship was tragically cut short, Miss Parker still learned a great deal from her mother.  Catherine Parker was a kind, compassionate woman.  The horrible circumstances surrounding her death may have made Miss Parker into the hardened woman we know today, but she still has the memories of a loving mother to temper her harsher tendencies.  Lyle does not have such a moral compass to direct him.”

            “Well, like Miss Parker said, just don’t expect me to feel sorry for him,” Broots grouched.  “That man is evil.  I may not be as strong as Jarod or as brave as Miss Parker to stand up to him face to face, but well, I’m pretty good at technology, and there’s no way I’m going to let that little black box of his stump me.”

            Sydney laid a hand on his shoulder.  “You’re more than pretty good at what you do, Broots.  I have no doubt you will figure out a way to deactivate that device.”

            The words of encouragement had the desired effect; Sydney watched as Broots sat a little straighter, squared his shoulders, and started typing.  Even the sound of his fingers on the keyboard sounded determined.  “I want to get down everything Lyle told us about that box before I forget it,” he said.  “Miss Parker is right; having that information will make it easier to solve this problem.”

            “I’ll leave you to your work,” Sydney said, satisfied that Broots would find a way to shut down that wretched torture device.

            Now if only he could figure out a way to keep Jarod permanently safe.

            Miss Parker opened her eyes and stared blearily at the digital clock on her bedside table.  She had to blink a few times to believe what she was seeing: 9:30?

            She groaned and rolled over on her back.  How the hell could she have slept so late and still feel so rotten?

            Of course, “sleep” may not be the right word to describe what she’d done last night.  She’d tossed and turned for hours, and when she had managed to drift off for short intervals, she’d been plagued by dreams and nightmares in which Jarod and Lyle figured prominently.  She couldn’t remember details, which she thought was just as well.  After yesterday’s real life dream-turned-nightmare in the elevator, she had enough memories of those two to disturb her slumber for many nights to come.  Unfortunately, the pleasant memories of those surprising moments spent with Jarod were ruined by the distressing moments spent with Lyle.  Damn her brother.  He even intruded on her dreams.

            Miss Parker dragged herself back to the present and out of bed, so she could get on with the problem of the day that awaited her, namely the meeting with her father.  She came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, feeling slightly more awake after brushing her teeth and splashing some cold water on her face but still not ready to face the difficult conversation that awaited her.

            She just wasn’t sure exactly what to say to him.  How do you tell a father that his son tried to kill his daughter?  And how do you convince him of it, when the only proof you have is shaky at best? 

            Putting off her shower until she took one more look at the “evidence” Broots had found, Miss Parker padded barefoot in her silk pajamas into the living room and headed right to her desk.  The mini flash drive lay next to her sleek black laptop, which she’d brought home from the office yesterday.  It was so nice to not always have to lug around those bulky silver cases that played the DSAs of Jarod’s simulations; she needed to talk to Broots about transferring those archives to modern discs – after he’d finished his current project of disabling Lyle’s electric shock device.

            She took a seat at the desk, flipped open her laptop, plugged the drive into the USB port, and pushed the power button.  As she waited for the computer to start up, she admitted to herself that she didn’t need another look at the video of a gloved Lyle leaving her office; she was stalling.  She was reluctant to go to the office and see her father.

            It was Jarod and Sydney’s fault.  They’d gotten inside her head, made her doubt the outcome of this meeting.  She’d gotten used to Jarod trying to undermine her relationship with her father, but Sydney usually supported her attempts to get closer to her father.  And now he was telling her not to get her hopes up? 

The problem was she wasn’t sure what she was hoping for.  For Daddy to disown Lyle and banish him from the Centre?  She knew that would never happen, especially not now when the Triumverate was solidly on her brother’s side.  Maybe she just wanted her father to agree with her that Lyle was dangerous and say that he wished he had the power to do something about it.  But she couldn’t imagine her father admitting that, even if they both realized his options were limited by the Centre’s overseers; he was too proud to appear weak in front of his daughter. 

She was surprised to suddenly see two files come up on the screen as the drive’s contents were revealed.  One was labeled “Main Concourse April 27,” which she knew was the day that Lyle had infected her with the virus, but the other file was called “Elevator May 4.”  She realized Broots had supplied her with the recording of Lyle torturing Jarod, perhaps as extra ammunition to help convince her father of her brother’s sadistic nature. 

Her fingers hovered indecisively over the keyboard.  Yesterday when Sydney and Broots had viewed the video, she’d been unable to watch, had instead retreated to a dark corner of the tech lab.  She still wasn’t sure why she’d been so shaken.  She’d known for a long time what Lyle was capable of, torture actually being one of his lesser crimes.  She was well aware of the fact that he’d both physically and emotionally tormented Jarod the last time he’d been a prisoner of the Centre.  Maybe it was the fact that this time she’d seen her psychotic brother in action up close and personal.  And she’d been powerless to stop him.

That was what upset her the most.  Of course, she didn’t like seeing Jarod hurt for no reason, but she had a feeling his most painful moment was when he’d said “please” to Lyle.  She agreed with Sydney that he’d done that for her sake, to protect her from a physical altercation with Tony.  She sighed.  She wished he’d stop doing that, especially when she’d been such a failure at repaying the favor.  She’d promised him last fall that he wouldn’t be tortured once he was back at the Centre, proclaiming that she and her father would protect him from Lyle.  He hadn’t believed her then, and he’d been right, damn it.  She was ashamed of her inability to stop her brother, mortified that her weakness had been caught on film.  That was the real reason she didn’t want to watch the video. 

But if she was truly honest with herself, she had to admit that the most disturbing moments in that elevator happened off camera before Lyle and his little black box ever appeared on the scene.  Wildly exciting moments, when she and Jarod had let passion overtake them.  She didn’t regret the kisses, she’d rather enjoyed the kisses, and she had only to remember those kisses to have a small thrilling tingle go through her body. 

It was what he’d said to her that had her so unnerved: I thought I’d lost you.  Why did those words scare her so much?  Was it that fact that they showed how much he cared for her?  Or the fact that she’d liked the way it made her feel to know he cared that much?  Or that she was starting to care just as much about him?

She could feel a headache starting to build behind her eyes.  Everything about Jarod was so confusing.  Was he the lonely boy whom she’d befriended when they’d been children together at the Centre?  Was he the clever prey who’d eluded capture for years?  Was he the stingy keeper of the Parker family secrets, dishing them out one at a time whenever he needed to distract her?  Was he a tormented soul endlessly searching for the family that he’d never known?  Or was he just a man who was a damn good kisser?

The only thing she knew for certain was that he was a Pretender, a genius with the ability to become anyone he wanted.  One question rose above all the rest: who did she want him to be?

And would he be that person for her?

There was a knock on her door.  Grateful for the interruption to her jumbled thoughts, Miss Parker swiftly rose and went to answer it.  When she looked through the peephole, she couldn’t contain a small gasp.  She quickly unlocked the door and undid the chain.  “Daddy!” she exclaimed, opening the door wide.

Her father stepped over the threshold and enveloped her in a tight hug.  “Oh, Angel, my Angel!  Are you alright?”

Surprised by this rare physical display of affection, she stood stiffly in his arms, but only for a few seconds.  Then she relaxed into his embrace, closing her eyes and breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne.  “I’m fine, Daddy,” she murmured against his neck.  “Better now that you’re here.”

Too soon he pulled away and looked her over with a critical eye. “Are you sure you shouldn’t still be in the infirmary?” he asked.

Suddenly aware she was still only wearing her pajamas, she felt more vulnerable than usual when in her father’s presence.  “I’m fine,” she assured him, grabbing a fleece throw from the back of the sofa and wrapping it around her shoulders as an attempt to cover up a bit.  He looked well, with a healthy tan contrasting nicely with his neatly trimmed white mustache.  Two weeks spent in the sunshine and sea air had done him a world of good, she could tell.  She didn’t want to think about what he’d done with Brigitte that could also have contributed to his invigorated appearance.

“Angel, you need to take it easy.  You almost died, for God’s sake!”

She moved to close the front door.  “Who told you?” she asked, turning back around to face him.

 “Your brother.  He met me at the airport when my plane got in late last night.  I wanted to come over right away, but I figured you needed your rest.”  He shook his head and added with a scowl, “I can’t believe what happened while I was away.  And no one could get in touch with me.  Damn cell phone batteries died.”

“But I lived,” Miss Parker said.

Her attempt at levity fell flat.  Her father reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek.  “I should have been here,” he said in a low, gruff voice.

She felt tears pricking her eyes and she stepped past him, so her back would be turned while she regained her composure.  It looked like the time had come to tell him.  “Daddy, I was going to come to the office today to talk to you about Lyle,” she said, keeping her voice firm and steady.  “You need to know what he did.”

“I know all about it.  He told me last night about how you got contaminated with that deadly virus because of his carelessness!”

Miss Parker closed her eyes as her heart sank and her headache suddenly intensified.  That bastard.  Now that he’d already told their father his version of events, her theory was going to be even harder to sell.

“Of course, he feels just terrible about it, and he should!” Mr. Parker went on.  “There’s no excuse for him to be handling something so dangerous; the shipment of the samples from Africa should have gone directly to the infirmary.”

She took a deep breath and spun around.  “Daddy, Lyle knew exactly what he was doing when he –”

“No, he only thought he did!  He likes to be a little too hands-on with these projects sometimes – promising the Triumverate that he’ll take care of every detail personally – and this time it almost cost you your life!  That is unacceptable.”

She saw the steel in his gaze and heard it in his voice and thought she still might have a chance of convincing him of Lyle’s treachery.  “Daddy, the way I got infected –”

His look softened.  “Don’t blame yourself, Angel.  You had no way of knowing the seal on that container was faulty.  Of course, you took the opportunity to look inside it; you wanted to know more about the project your brother was working on.  Nothing wrong with a little sibling rivalry.”  He sounded almost proud.

Oh, sure.  Nothing unusual about a brother putting his sister’s life in jeopardy in order to score points with his boss.

“I’m just thankful it all worked out for the best,” Mr. Parker said.  “Jarod discovered an antidote, you recovered, and the Triumverate is satisfied with Lyle’s efficient handling of this assignment.”

What happened to “careless” Lyle being too “hands-on” and risking her life?  Her father was obviously pleased with his son’s performance during this first crucial project after Jarod’s recapture.  She knew her chance to tell him about Lyle injecting her with the virus had just slipped away; he’d never believe her because he wouldn’t want to believe her.

Or maybe he would believe her but not care, a tiny voice inside said.  Maybe he’d be proud of Lyle for having the guts to take such a huge risk to reap huge rewards.

No!  She wouldn’t believe that her father would ever condone putting her life in danger just to appease the Centre’s overseers.  Moreover, Lyle didn’t believe that, either, or he wouldn’t have timed her illness to occur when Daddy was conveniently out of town.

Okay, time for Plan B.  Maybe she could use that elevator video Broots had supplied.  “Jarod deserves most of the credit,” she said.

“Eh?  What’s that?”  Her father looked confused.

“Jarod is the one who worked day and night in the lab to develop a cure for this virus to save my life.  And the lives of many African villagers.”

“Well, yes, that was what he was supposed to do.  It’s his job.”

“So shouldn’t he be rewarded for a job well done?”

“Rewarded?  What are you talking about?”  He was starting to sound annoyed.

“Well, he should at least be treated better.  Let me show you something.”  She walked over to her desk.  After her father had reluctantly stepped to her side, she pressed the play button on the recording from the elevator.

This time she forced herself to watch.  A day after the fact, and seen at a distance through the impersonal lens of the camera, the scene seemed much tamer.  She had no problem keeping her expression neutral while viewing the footage, but she watched her father’s reaction out of the corner of her eye.  His eyes narrowed slightly when Lyle ordered Tony to “restrain” her, but he didn’t appear at all disturbed by the torture Jarod was undergoing.  As soon as the Sweepers dragged Jarod out of camera range, Mr. Parker turned away from the computer and took a step towards the door.

He couldn’t leave yet!  “Well?” Miss Parker demanded.

He gave her that slightly blank, slightly befuddled look she knew so well and hated so much.

“Daddy, Lyle was shocking Jarod for no reason!”

“No reason?  I had a security briefing this morning, including a full report about this incident.  From what I understand, Jarod attacked his guards and hijacked the elevator… with you inside it!  He didn’t hurt you, did he?”  His face darkened.

“No, of course not!  Jarod would never hurt me,” she said.

Her father grunted.  “Maybe not physically,” he allowed, “but he takes an emotional jab every now and then.  He’s been feeding you lies about our family for years.”

“Well, our family’s darkest secret is pretty much out, I’d say, if Lyle is now comfortable torturing people in public!”

“The sub-level elevator is not open to the public, and Lyle had every right to discipline Jarod.  He had to remind him who’s boss.”

“Gee, Daddy, I thought that was you,” Miss Parker said with just a touch of saccharine sweetness.

Her father glared at her.  “The Triumverate has put Lyle in charge of the Pretender project as a reward for catching him.  I told you that whoever brought him back to the Centre would have all the power.  Maybe if you’d paid more attention to the hunt instead of constantly being sidetracked by Jarod’s tidbits about our family, you would have been able to capture him yourself,” he snapped.

Since she’d made that dig about who was boss, she bit back an angry response to his last comment. “So Lyle can just do whatever he wants?” she persisted.  “He doesn’t have to answer to anyone?”

“As long as Jarod keeps producing results, the Triumverate will be happy with the status quo.”

“But will you be happy with it, Daddy?  You’ve been the director here for a long time.  How can you just give that up?”

“I haven’t given anything up.  I’m still in charge of the Centre’s operations, but Lyle has the final say in all things concerning Jarod.”

“Even if that means he can torture him whenever he wants?”  She heard the pleading note in her voice and hated it.

“Don’t worry, Angel, your brother is too smart to do any permanent damage to Jarod.  He knows not to risk the Centre’s biggest asset.”

“Because it would be his ass if anything happened to Jarod,” she muttered under her breath.

“But I do agree with you that he did go too far at one point in the elevator,” her father added.

Her heart leapt.  Maybe he’d finally admit that Lyle’s form of “discipline” was barbaric.

“He should never have ordered that Sweeper to restrain you!  Good thing you didn’t have to fight him.”

She stifled a sigh and prepared herself for another lecture on how she was too fragile to be brawling in the elevator.

“Otherwise, I’d be spending my first day back trying to calm some ruffled feathers in the security department after my daughter beat up one of their guys.”  He winked at her.

A warm feeling stole through her.  Her father actually recognized her strength and was acknowledging it, not like Sydney and Broots who were grateful that Jarod had put aside his pride in the elevator to rescue her from a physical confrontation with Tony.  It felt good to know someone still believed in her ability to take care of herself.

“Well, I need to get back to the office,” her father said briskly.  “I have a lot of work to catch up on.”  He bent down slightly to brush a light kiss on her forehead.  As he straightened, he glanced over her shoulder and his face paled.

“What is it, Daddy?” she asked with concern.

 “Nothing.  It’s just that…that image on the computer…for a second, I thought it was your mother.  To see Catherine… stepping out of that elevator…Well, that would be a sight, wouldn’t it?”  He cleared his throat.  “Get some rest, Angel,” he said in farewell and quickly left.

Miss Parker glanced at her laptop.  The video was frozen on the final frame of the recording, the moment when she had exited the elevator.  She remembered how desperate she’d been to get out of that claustrophobic box, and that sentiment was clearly visible on her face.  No wonder her father had been rattled.  He was used to his daughter’s surface resemblance to his wife, but to suddenly see her with that same fear that had too often lurked in the eyes of Catherine Parker… She felt a chill go through her as she stared down at the computer screen and pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders.

No!  She slammed down the lid of her laptop.  She had often said she was not her mother and never would be, and she meant it.  She’d gotten in a bad habit of letting Jarod “save” her, but no more.  She was done being the pawn or victim.  She would get some rest like everyone suggested, take some time to heal.

But not here.  She would go away, far away from the Centre and all its doom and gloom.  It was Spring, and right now she wanted to let some sunshine into her life.  She’d certainly earned it.