Chapter 16

            She hated everything about this plan.

            First of all, it relied heavily on Broots being able to accomplish what he set out to do.  She had faith in his technical skills, but it was his ability to perform under pressure that had her worried.  Since he was the only one of their team who could do the computer calculations necessary, she knew he had to be feeling an enormous sense of responsibility; they were all depending on him.  Especially Jarod, who, if the scenario played out the way they imagined, would be especially eager for Broots to isolate the frequency as quickly as possible.

            But there was no guarantee anything would go as planned.              They needed Lyle to use the shock transmitter while Broots was in close proximity with his computer.  Once they’d decided the best place and time to do this, they’d had to figure out a way to communicate those pertinent details to Jarod.  Reluctant to use his trick of looping security camera feed too often, Broots had come up with another method.  With the help of his friend Gummy (a man who was missing most of his teeth) in janitorial services, Broots had scrawled an encoded message on a roll of toilet paper and sent it with other supplies for Jarod’s cell.  Miss Parker didn’t want to even think about the moment Jarod discovered this cryptic memo; she just hoped he deciphered it correctly and showed up when and where he was expected.

            Probably the worst part of this plan was the fact that she was little more than an observer.  Plus the only way she could observe was from hiding, which meant she had to hunker down below the windows of Sydney’s office, being careful to stay out of sight of the sim lab.  Worse, she had to stay in this undignified position with Broots and his laptop right next to her.  She’d made sure to wear a conservative pants suit and not her usual short skirt; Broots needed to concentrate on the task at hand.

            Right now Miss Parker was standing just inside the open doors of Sydney’s office, waiting for the key players to arrive upon the scene.  Broots was already settled beneath the windows, sitting cross-legged, his back to the wall, his laptop open upon his knees.  She glanced at her watch.  Jarod and company should be arriving at any minute now…

            She heard the clatter of their feet on the grated catwalk and quickly dropped into a crouch next to Broots.  Risking a peek, she saw Lyle leading the way down the steps, followed by Jarod and his usual Sweeper duo of Willie and Tony.

            Lyle glanced around the cavernous space.  “Sydney?” he called.  He started to head their way.

            Miss Parker ducked her head.  Damn it, Syd!  Her eyes darted around the room, wondering if she and Broots would both fit under the desk…

            She heard a cell phone ring.  Lyle answered, “Yes?”  It sounded like he had gotten as far as the steps leading to the office.

            Broots had already started to crawl for cover.  Miss Parker grabbed the back hem of his green polo shirt to stop him.

            “Well, we’re here for the meeting you requested.  Where are you?”  The annoyance in Lyle’s voice was evident.  There was silence for a few seconds.  “Fine, we’ll wait.  But not for long.”  He shut his phone with an angry snap.

            “Sydney’s been delayed.  Some problem with one of his twin subjects.  He’ll be here shortly.”

            Lyle’s voice was getting fainter, so Miss Parker figured he was heading back to the center of the sim lab.  She gave a tug on Broots’ shirt, and he carefully returned to his earlier position.

            “Do you have someplace else you need to be?”  Jarod sounded sullen and slightly bored; it was the voice he often used around Centre personnel.  Miss Parker could tell the difference now, because she knew what it sounded like when the real Jarod was speaking.  I thought I’d lost you…

            “Well, it is a holiday weekend, so I thought I’d try to get out of here a little earlier today,” Lyle said.  “Maybe spend some time at my cabin in the woods.  I feel the need for some… rejuvenation.”

            Broots slowly turned a horrified gaze on Miss Parker.  She suspected her own expression mirrored his.  During Lyle’s last weekend in the woods, they’d discovered his hidden torture chamber, a dirt-caked shovel, and a report of a missing Asian waitress, giving them a pretty good idea of what he did to “rejuvenate.”

            Miss Parker knew that Jarod was well aware of Lyle’s weekend activities, so she was again impressed by how he could hide his emotions when she heard his casual tone: “Holiday or not, I’m surprised you can get away.  I just finished that space mining project, so I figure you’ve got another assignment for me.  Isn’t that what this meeting’s about?”

            “No, you finished the work for Final Frontier, Inc. so quickly, you’ve earned a mini vacation.”

            “Oh?  Then why don’t you turn off that invisible fence outside and let me have a picnic on the Centre grounds to celebrate Memorial Day?”

            Miss Parker shifted from her current squat to a more comfortable kneeling position; no telling how long this “banter” would go on.

            “Sorry, Jarod, you’ll have to be content with spending a quiet three days down in your hole.”

            “Not much of a vacation.”

            “Tell you what.  Maybe I can get the kitchen staff to make you a corn dog.  Would you like that?” Lyle asked with false joviality.

            There was a pause, then: “So, if I’m not getting a new project yet, what’s this meeting about?”

            “I don’t know, it was Sydney’s idea.”  Lyle’s impatience was clear.

            “You let Sydney call a meeting without knowing what he wants to discuss?  I thought you were in charge around here, Lyle.”

            Miss Parker sat up straighter – metaphorically – as she noticed that the small-talk tone to Jarod’s voice had suddenly vanished.

            “My father’s the one in the Director’s office.  So if he wants to humor Sydney’s need to have periodic access to you, I have no choice but to go along with it.” 

            Miss Parker smiled to herself.  Good to know Daddy could still boss her brother around when he felt like it.  If only he felt like it more often!

            “So even though the Triumverate has put you in charge of my… work here, Mr. Parker still does have the final say about what happens at the Centre.”

            There was a long pause, while Miss Parker imagined her brother fidgeting and trying to find a way to save face.  Finally, he replied slowly, “Technically, that’s true.”

            Her smile turned to a frown.  What the hell did that mean?

            Jarod put forth his own theory.  “Meaning you try to get away with what you can whenever possible.  Is that why Miss Parker mysteriously became infected with the African virus while your father was conveniently away on vacation?  You didn’t want him to know what you were going to do to make me cooperate?”

            Wanting to observe Lyle’s reaction, she carefully raised her head slightly so she could peer over the windowsill.  The men were standing in the center of the cavernous space known as the sim lab, but Lyle’s back was to her so she couldn’t see his face.  But she could see Jarod’s.  The intensity of the gaze he fixed on Lyle was truly impressive; she imagined many a criminal had been treated to that look when Jarod confronted them with evidence of their evil deeds.

            Lyle didn’t turn away from the accusing stare, nor did he confirm Jarod’s suspicions.

            “Or maybe your father knew exactly what you were going to do and went on that cruise so he’d have deniability with his daughter?”

            That was meant for her ears.   Miss Parker felt a flash of irritation.  Jarod knew that she and Broots were watching from Sydney’s office, unable to make their presence known.  When she’d had the chance to tell her father about her belief that Lyle infected her, she hadn’t done so, but Jarod was not wasting his opportunity to once again try to drive a wedge between her and her father.  Even though she was hiding in a dark room, she felt like Jarod was looking right at her.  She held her breath while she waited for Lyle’s reply.

            “My father knows what he needs to know,” he said.

            Typical non-answer of the kind she’d learned to expect at the Centre.  She stifled a sigh and ducked her head down again, trying to ignore the tiny part of her that was relieved not to know the truth.

            “What about the Triumverate?  Does it know how you convinced me to find the antidote for the virus?” Jarod pressed.

            “The Triumverate knows that I get results, and that’s all that matters,” Lyle responded smoothly.

            “Really?  Does the Triumverate know that you’re only getting those results because of the way you’re using Miss Parker?  That I wouldn’t even be back at the Centre if you hadn’t threatened to shoot your own sister at the cemetery?”

            “Do you have a point, Jarod?” Lyle sounded bored.

            He wasn’t confirming or denying anything, she noticed.  Listening to her brother calmly discuss the hideous actions taken against her made her slightly sick to her stomach.  If Sydney were here, he’d call Lyle a sociopath; she called him a monster.

            “My point is that Miss Parker is now aware of what you’ve been doing,” Jarod said, “and she won’t be an easy target the next time.”

            She appreciated the vote of confidence but doubted he was saying it for her benefit.

            “I have other ways to get what I want out of you, Jarod.”

            The dangerous edge to Lyle’s voice made Miss Parker risk another glance out the window.  The men were still standing in the center of the room, next to the table, but with the current level of tension simmering around them, it was obvious neither one was going to sit down.  Even Willie and Tony, posted a few feet away on either side of Jarod, were started to shift their weight a little, as if sensing something about to happen.

            Jarod didn’t look or sound particularly concerned.  “Oh?  You mean that little box you carry around?”

            Lyle’s right hand stole inside his coat.  “Yes,” he said.

            Jarod suddenly jerked, and next to her, Broots jumped slightly.  “I got a blip,” he breathed, his fingers dancing across the keyboard.  “But it’s already gone,” he added, his shoulders slumping.

            Miss Parker knew that much from Jarod’s body language; she could see him relax.  Lyle had just given him a quick jolt.  She watched him remove the tiny transmitter from his pocket; sure enough, his finger was not on the button…yet.

            “Get ready, Broots.  My brother’s just getting started,” she said grimly.

            This was the part of the plan she hated the most.  She knew Jarod had to goad Lyle into shocking him and then resist succumbing to the pain for as long as possible so that Broots could get the best reading of the frequency Lyle’s device was using.  All of that made sense to the rational part of her mind; it was the emotional side that still hadn’t gotten over seeing Jarod collapse in the elevator while she was helpless to ease his suffering.  She didn’t want to go through that again, didn’t want Jarod to ever have to go through that again.  Sensing her discomfort as only he could, Sydney yesterday had suggested gently that she didn’t need to be present for this part of the plan.  But she had insisted, making some flip remark about having to make sure Broots kept a cool head.

So, here she was.  There was no turning back now.  She – and Jarod – just needed to get through the next few minutes.

            As planned, Jarod wasn’t backing down.  “Haven’t you learned by now that torture doesn’t work on me?” 

            Oh, that superior tone!  She braced herself as she waited for the response from Lyle.

            Studying the device in his hand, her brother said, almost absent-mindedly, “Oh, yes.  That technique you told me you learned as a child.  You go somewhere in your mind to block out the pain?  I’ve been meaning to ask you…”  He looked up at Jarod and pushed the button.  “Does that really work?”  His voice was razor sharp.

            Jarod’s whole body tensed but he stood his ground.  “It works well enough,” he managed through clenched teeth.

            “Broots!” Miss Parker said.

            His fingers were already busy on the keyboard.  “I know, I know,” he said.

            “But I’m curious,” Lyle said in a conversational tone.  “You claim you learned to use this technique when you were a child here at the Centre, presumably when you had to do simulations that caused you pain.  But where could you possibly escape to in your mind?  It’s not like you had any pleasant memories of times spent with your family.”

            Jarod was starting to shake more, his cuffed hands balled into fists, his knuckles white.  But he kept a glare focused on his tormentor.

            “You still don’t have those, though, do you?  No memories of Mommy and Daddy to sustain you during your darkest hours.  And the short time you spent with your brother Kyle can hardly be described as happy.   Just when you thought you had a chance of undoing the damage Raines had done to him, a chance of actually making him an upstanding citizen and maybe even recruiting him to your do-gooder crusade, what happened?  Kyle took a bullet meant for you and died in your arms.  I doubt that’s a moment you’d want to relive.  Although I imagine you do, time and time again in your nightmares.  What’s it feel like, Jarod, knowing that your brother’s dead because of you?”

            After that long monologue delivered in a sickeningly cheerful tone, Miss Parker itched to attack Lyle herself, so she was only slightly surprised when Jarod lost his cool and lunged at him.  Lyle sidestepped easily, and the effort cost Jarod some of his physical control; he fell to his knees with a groan, the tremors coursing wildly through his body.  Somehow he still managed to keep his head up, defiant brown eyes stubbornly trained on the man standing over him.

            Unable to look away, Miss Parker urged, “Hurry up, Broots!”

            “I’m trying, I’m trying,” he said desperately.

            Lyle had started to slowly circle Jarod, like a predator closing in for the kill.  “I suppose your imagination got you through your toughest times as a child,” he said.  “But now that you’ve been out in the world for a few years, you must have one or two nice memories you can draw upon.  Perhaps time spent with a woman you met during your travels?”

            Jarod was past the point of being able to respond, even if he’d wanted to.  He tried to brace himself against the table, but the convulsions wracking his body made the side of his head bang roughly against the edge of the table in a sickening rhythm.  Thud, thud, thud.  Miss Parker could feel her heart pounding in time with the horrible sound.

            “Or do you still prefer to use your imagination?  Maybe you fantasize about someone in particular?  Someone like my sister?” Lyle was facing her way at the moment, so Miss Parker could see his loathsome smile.  “Hell, I can understand that.  Half the guys at the Centre would like to get her in bed, even the hapless ones like her geeky sidekick.”

            Miss Parker didn’t need to look at her “sidekick” to know that he was stuck in the throes of embarrassment by what Lyle had just said.  “Focus, Broots!” she ordered and was relieved when she heard his fingers resume their crazy tap dance across the keyboard.  Her own fingers were clenching the sill so tightly she thought she felt splinters digging under her nails.

            Jarod made a Herculean effort to stand, but his shaking legs wouldn’t support him, and he fell again, this time his forehead pressed awkwardly against his cuffed wrists stretched out in front of him; he looked like he was praying.  Knowing that Broots was Jarod’s only current hope of salvation, Miss Parker thought, God help us all.

            Lyle stopped circling.  “How’s that survival technique of yours working now, Jarod?  Looks like it’s not blocking out all of the pain.”  He leaned over and spoke close to Jarod’s ear, barely loud enough for Miss Parker to hear.  “Or are you just… pretending?”

            Miss Parker knew Jarod’s agony was real; she could almost feel waves of pain rolling off of him.  He was sweating profusely and his breathing had become ragged gasps; she didn’t know how he was managing to stay conscious. Miss Parker was starting to have trouble breathing herself; her chest had grown tight, her hands clammy, her fingers prickly.

            She couldn’t watch anymore.  She ducked her head down again and sagged against the wall, forcing herself to take slow, even breaths.

            Broots slid a concerned glance her way.  “How much longer?” she asked him.

            “Almost done,” he said, returning his attention to the screen.  He was sweating, too, she noticed.

            Lyle was still talking, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying.  All she could hear was Jarod’s labored breathing, interspersed with low moans.  Fighting the childish urge to cover her ears with her hands, she pressed her back against the wall and hugged her knees to her chest, holding on for dear life.  Would this nightmare never end?  “Broots,” she pleaded, her voice a thin wisp of a wail.

            Amazingly, he replied almost immediately, “I’ve got it!”

            “What?  Are you sure?”

            “Yes!”

            Miss Parker had her cell phone out in an instant.  She flipped it open and jabbed the speed dial button.

            He answered after the first ring.  “This is Syd-”       

            “We’ve got it.  Go!” she said.

            Sydney must have been right down the corridor, because almost instantly she heard clattering footsteps on the metal catwalk.  Then a shout: “Lyle, what are you doing?  Stop!”

            Jarod let out an agonized cry.

            Then there was silence.

            Miss Parker reluctantly raised her eyes over the sill once more.  Jarod was lying on the floor, his eyes closed, a few tremors still rippling through his inert form.

            Lyle took his finger off the button.

            Sydney rushed down the stairs and knelt beside Jarod.  “He’s unconscious,” he said, looking angrily up at Lyle.

            Her brother gestured to the Sweepers.  “Take him back to his cell.”  He returned the transmitter to the inside pocket of his suit coat.

            “He needs to go to the infirmary,” Sydney insisted.  “How long did you shock him?  You could have caused permanent damage.”

            “He’ll be fine, Sydney.  I’m giving him three whole days off for the holiday – plenty of time to recuperate.”  When Sydney continued to glare at him, Lyle sighed.  “Okay, have it your way.  Willie, Tony, take Jarod to the infirmary and stand guard in his cubicle.  As soon as the doctors release him, I want him put back in his cell.  Understand?”

            “Yes, sir, Mr. Lyle,” Tony rumbled.  He grabbed Jarod under the arms, Willie took his legs, and they carried him up the steps and out of sight. 

            Sydney stood up.  “Your father will hear about this,” he declared.

            Lyle shrugged.  “I’m sure he will,” he said.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to finish before I leave for a weekend of rest and rejuvenation.” He stared critically at the older man.  “You should really take some time off yourself, Sydney.  You look terrible.”  Then he left the sim lab, a jaunty bounce to his stride. 

            Sydney stood alone in the middle of the room a moment longer, staring down at the spot where Jarod had lain.  Then he seemed to come out of his stupor and hurried up the steps and in the direction the Sweepers had taken Jarod.

            Miss Parker slumped below the window again, her body trembling.  She closed her eyes but could still see Jarod’s pale face, his head hanging limply, as the Sweepers dragged him away.  She had a feeling that image would be with her for a long time to come.

            “M-miss Parker, are you alright?” Broots laid a tentative hand on her arm.

            Her eyes snapped open.  “Fine,” she said shortly and started to get up.

            “Wait!”  Broots tightened his grip on her arm.  “I need to loop the camera footage so we can leave undetected.”  With his other hand, he was already typing commands into his laptop.

            She shook free of his hold but stayed on the floor, secretly grateful for the extra time to gather herself.  She wasn’t sure her legs would have supported her if she’d risen too fast.

            Get a grip, Parker.  You still have work to do.

            Sydney would take care of Jarod.  She had the chance to save someone else.

“I knew torture would never work on Jarod as a motivational tool; his code of ethics is too strong.  But I really wanted to use it as a form of punishment for when he misbehaves.”  Lyle took a sip of his drink.  “That’s why I was pleased when I found a way to make torturing Jarod beneficial to the Centre.”  It’s always good if you can take pleasure in your work, he thought contentedly.

            “Dr. Archer’s services were expensive, but I believe they will prove to be a good investment.  That implant she invented is on the cutting edge of technology, and I think it’s just what our client needs.  Even though we’re not interrogating him, I think Jarod is the perfect test subject.  He can withstand torture as well as – or better than – any enemy combatant, terrorist or espionage agent operating today.”  Lyle didn’t mind offering the compliment.  The fact that Jarod was tough to break meant he got to try more times to do just that – a win-win.

            Lyle put his glass down on the desk and opened his laptop.  “I tried a new approach in our latest… session.”  He tapped a few keys and brought up the surveillance recording from the sim lab.  He kept the sound turned off; he wanted to more closely study Jarod’s reactions and didn’t need the distraction of his own words.  “While I attacked him physically with the electric shocks, I also tried to assault him on an emotional level.”  God, he was starting to sound like Sydney. 

            “This was done to sidetrack him, keep him from going to that special place in his mind that he told me he uses to block out most of the physical pain of torture,” Lyle went on.  “This was the first time I’ve tried this approach, but I think it worked well.”

            “You think so?”  Mr. Parker stepped away from the window behind Lyle’s desk where he’d been quietly sipping his Scotch.  “I think Jarod held out for a damn long time before he finally collapsed.”

            “You’ve already seen the footage?”

            “I watched the live feed from the security office,” Mr. Parker said.

            Lyle hid his irritation.  Another reason he had the video muted right now was because he had wanted to do a little editing before his father saw it.

            He fast-forwarded the recording to the part where Jarod fell to his knees.  “You see how my mention of his brother’s death affected him,” Lyle said, pointing to the screen.  “He lost some of his physical control and couldn’t maintain his balance.”

            “Your reference to Kyle was a good idea,” Mr. Parker said grudgingly as he moved around to the front of the desk.  Then he set his drink down heavily and fixed a scowl on his son.  “But I do not approve of the way you spoke about your sister!”

            With an effort, Lyle kept his voice calm.  “Well, the whole point of today’s session was to go after Jarod on a gut level, and like it or not, he does have feelings for her.”

            Mr. Parker looked thoughtful.  “I’m not so sure of that,” he said.

            “What?”  He pushed the pause button on the video.

            “That he has true feelings for her!  He could just be pretending in the hopes of getting her on his side.  He’s convinced she knows things about his family, or that she can get that information out of me.  He’s been trying to uncover all the Centre’s secrets for years!”

            “He’s done a pretty good job of it, too,” Lyle muttered.  “He doesn’t need my sister to help him.  I’m convinced he has another source inside the Centre.”  He shook his head; save that mystery for another day.  “Granted, he’s a master Pretender, but I think his feelings for her are genuine.  Have you watched the old DSAs?  You can tell he had a crush on her when they were kids.  Those puppy dog eyes he turned on her every time they were in a room together?” He made a sound of disgust.  “Of course, he was desperate for a friend.  And who can blame him with only Sydney to talk to?”  He paused.  “Why did you let the two of them meet back then?”

            “Ah, Sydney insisted that Jarod needed interaction with children his own age,” Mr. Parker said crossly.  “And Catherine felt sorry for him, thought he should have a friend.” 

            “Well, that friendship forged so many years ago is paying off now.  I’ve been able to use it to our advantage.”

            Mr. Parker narrowed his eyes at him.  “Exactly what did Jarod mean when he mentioned the African virus and me having deniability because I was away on a cruise?”

            Lyle again cursed the fact that he hadn’t been able to delete portions of his latest torture session with Jarod before his father saw it.  “Oh, Jarod has some crazy notion that I infected my sister on purpose to give him the motivation to find an antidote,” he said casually.  “I already told you how she was accidentally exposed to the virus.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I used her illness to get Jarod to complete the assignment.  Although it was terrible that she had to suffer, everything did work out for the best.”

            Mr. Parker stared at him for a long moment.  Lyle didn’t look away, maintaining what he hoped was a mostly neutral but slightly contrite expression.  He’d told Jarod that his father knew what he needed to know; the problem was the old man was craftier than he looked and might know a lot more than he let on.  Lyle let the tense silence stretch out between them, and finally, the clouds of suspicion cleared from his father’s face.  “Well, we’re just lucky Jarod was his usual brilliant self in coming up with the cure,” he grunted.

            “Of course,” Lyle murmured graciously.

            “Despite your carelessness with the blood samples from Africa, I have been pleased with your overall handling of the Pretender project so far,” Mr. Parker said.  “Just don’t get carried away with your torture of Jarod, alright?”

            “I checked with the infirmary.  He’s doing fine and has already been released.”

            “Good.  We can’t jeopardize his health.  This government contract we’ve garnered is quite a coup, but the Centre needs Jarod alive and well for a multitude of other ventures.”

            “I’m well aware of that.”  Of course, Jarod wouldn’t be in any real danger if he wasn’t so stubborn about resisting the effects of the electric shocks.  But then, it wouldn’t be as much fun…

            “I hope so,” Mr. Parker said sternly.  “Your position here at the Centre depends on you getting results from Jarod.  The Triumverate is happy with your work so far, but all of that could change.  You don’t want to get on their bad side.”

            “I know,” Lyle said, massaging his thumbless left hand.  He’d already been punished by one powerful crime organization and wasn’t eager to experience anything like that again.  He didn’t know exactly what had been done to his father in Africa a little over a year ago, but his erratic behavior and crazy look in his eyes when he’d first returned to the States hinted at horrific treatment.  Even now, a slightly haunted expression darkened the older man’s features.    

            Lyle sought to reassure him.  “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

            Mr. Parker grunted again, picked up his drink, drained the glass, and set it down again.  “Did I hear you tell Jarod you’re heading out to your cabin this weekend?”

            After dinner tonight at that new Chinese restaurant across town where he hoped to get some delicious take-out.  “Yes.  I think I need to get away for a few days.”

            “Well, have a good time.  You’ve earned it, son.”  He stepped away from the desk and turned to leave.

            The doors to his office were flung open and Miss Parker swept into the room.  Lyle rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance as usual, but he secretly enjoyed watching her dramatic entrances.  Today, though, the effect was slightly less striking, since she was wearing a conservative pantsuit instead of her normal provocative attire.  He was vaguely disappointed.  With those legs of hers, it was a crime to keep them covered.

            She seemed surprised to see their father there.  “Daddy!  Good, you’re here.  I wanted to talk to both of you,” she said.

            She’d no doubt already heard about his latest “punishment” of Jarod; Sydney probably couldn’t wait to tell her, hoping she’d run straight to her father, sparing him the task.  That geek Broots might have already gotten the recording and shown it to her, too.  Lyle braced himself for a barrage of verbal abuse; she’d call him a sick bastard who enjoyed hurting people who should never have been put in a position of power at the Centre, blah, blah, blah.

            His father also seemed to expect trouble.  “What is it, Angel?” he asked warily.

            “I was wondering if you had plans for the weekend,” she said. “There’s a concert in the park tomorrow night.  I thought you might like to go.”

            “A concert?  Yes, that sounds like a fine idea.”

            “Good.”  She turned to Lyle, the smile she’d bestowed on their father still on her face.  Surprisingly, it stayed there, only tightening a bit around the edges as she said, “You’re invited, too, Lyle.  I thought it would be nice for us all to spend some time together… as a family.”

            He regarded her in silence for a few beats, trying to read the intentions behind the invitation.  She barely acknowledged him as her brother and now she wanted to spend some “family” time together?  Why?  Her big blue eyes stared innocently into his own, giving nothing away.  He felt like she was daring him to… what?  Say no?

            Or say yes?

            “I agree,” he said, painting a pleasant smile on his face to match hers.  “Count me in, sis.”

            Was that a faint gleam of triumph in her eyes?  “Good,” she said.

            “Sweetheart, would you mind walking your old man to his car?”

            “Of course, Daddy.”  She took his arm.

            “See you tomorrow, son,” Mr. Parker said over his shoulder, giving him a “what-can-you-do” grimace.

            Lyle let the smile slide off his face as the door closed behind his father and sister.  Damn.  There went his plans for the weekend.  He really needed the whole three days if he wanted to truly savor his time in the woods.  He’d have to do it another time.  Lyle picked up his glass and gulped down the rest of his drink.

            The security video was still frozen on his computer screen.  Lyle’s pulse quickened as he realized the best part was coming up.  He clicked the play icon (and left the sound on this time) right before Jarod finally gave in to the pain, letting out an anguished scream and collapsing in a heap on the floor.  Lyle pushed rewind and watched that moment again.  And again.  And again.

            Sometimes he really loved his job.