Chapter 25

            Miss Parker stared into the mirror of her dressing table and saw a stranger looking back at her.

            Who was this woman who needed a drink – or several – to get through each and every day?  This woman who got so drunk she didn’t even realize her psychotic brother had drugged her… again?  Who needed to be rescued by Broots?

            Not any woman she wanted to be.

            Her eyes slid, somewhat guiltily, towards the glass of Scotch on her dressing table.  She’d automatically poured it this morning before she’d started getting ready for work, but the thought of what had almost happened the last time she’d had a drink had stopped her from taking even one sip.  She’d left the glass there while she’d applied her make-up as a kind of test.  She needed to stay sharp.  Until Lyle was gone, she couldn’t make it easy for him by setting herself up to be his victim.

            Her cell phone rang.  When she saw it was her father calling, she felt a twinge of uneasiness.  Had he somehow found out about her trip to the hospital?  She’d made Sydney and Broots promise not to tell him, mainly because yet again she had no proof that Lyle had done anything wrong.  She had no memory of her brother even being in her office on Friday.  If Broots hadn’t stopped by, Lyle would have drugged her – and probably done far worse – without her ever knowing.  Part of her desperately wanted to tell her father every despicable thing Lyle had ever done to her, but her cynical side wouldn’t let her risk the heartache she’d feel if her father refused to believe her, or worse, took Lyle’s side.

            Refusing to give in to paranoia, Miss Parker answered in her normal way: “What?”

            “Angel, where are you?”

            He had his usual brusque and impatient tone to his voice, so he probably wasn’t calling to inquire after her health.  “I’m at home, Daddy,” she said.  “I’ll be at the office soon… I’m just getting a late start this morning.”

            “Well, I’m glad I caught you.  I wanted to be the one to tell you about your brother.”

            Even though she’d been waiting for this, she still felt a slight jolt now that she was finally going to learn Lyle’s fate.  She imagined her father’s next words: “The Triumverate has taken him to Africa.”  What would be an appropriate response?  A whoop of triumph might be a bit extreme – and insensitive, given that her father had firsthand experience being Mutumbo’s “guest” in Africa.  She’d need to tone down her reaction.

            “Good news!” her father was saying.  “The Triumverate has given Lyle a reprieve.”

            She couldn’t have heard him correctly.  “What did you say?”

            “I said they’ve decided to give your brother a chance to redeem himself.”

            She felt like someone had punched her in the gut.  “That’s… a surprise,” she managed.

            Her father grunted.  “Yes, well, the Triumverate occasionally does the unexpected.  Helps keep their enemies guessing.”  He paused.  “At least they made a wise decision this time.  They’re putting Lyle – and you – in charge of the search for Gemini.  Finding Jarod’s clone has become top priority.”

            Her reflection showed that her face had gone pale and her knuckles white from clenching the phone so tightly.  The thought of actually having to work with Lyle again, knowing what he’d tried to do to her…

            She was glad when her father started speaking again, because she couldn’t trust her own voice.  “So get here as soon as you can, Angel.  There’s a lot of work to be done.”

            She was relieved when her father abruptly hung up.  She put down the phone and picked up her drink.  Only when the rim of the glass touched her lips did she stop.

            No!  She would not be a victim again!

            She knew what she had to do. 

            She set the glass down and took another look at the face in the mirror.  And there she was, her jaw set with determination, her eyes blazing with renewed purpose.  Only…

She leaned closer to the glass.  She could use a little more blush and a more vibrant shade of lip gloss.

She wanted to look her best when she saw her brother.

She watched him walk across the parking garage, marveling at the ease with which he played the role he’d chosen for himself.  From his well-tailored suit to his perfectly-coiffed hair to his charming smile and air of easy confidence, Lyle appeared every bit the successful businessman.  There was no hint of the monster beneath the mask.

There was a jaunty spring to his step, his briefcase swinging lightly from his right hand.  And why shouldn’t he be in a good mood?  He’d been unexpectedly spared from certain torture and possible death, he’d been trusted with a crucial assignment, and his actions of last Friday had provoked no response.  Knowing that Lyle would be wondering how much she’d remembered or what Broots might have told her, Miss Parker had purposely said nothing about the incident.   Instead she’d kept a tight lid on her feelings as she’d spent an excruciating day of meetings with Lyle to plan their strategy for finding the Gemini clone.  By making no indication that she even knew Lyle had been in her office on Friday, Miss Parker hoped he’d assume she’d slept off the drug and awakened the next morning with her familiar hangover.  As the day progressed, she’d noticed he’d become more relaxed, so her strategy seemed to have worked.

Now Miss Parker waited until he’d reached his car before she stepped out from behind the concrete pillar and headed his way.  The sound of her high heels striking the cement floor alerted him to her presence, but she wasn’t trying to sneak up on him. 

“Hey, sis,” he greeted her over his shoulder as he pressed the unlock button on his key ring.  “Heading home?”

“Not yet.  I have some work to finish.”  She kept her tone light, casual, matching his. Good to see he was still feeling at ease around her.  “But I’m glad I caught you.  I wanted to speak to you in private.”

“Oh?”  He still didn’t sound concerned as he opened his car door and tossed his briefcase onto the passenger seat.

She forced herself to smile.  “I realized that I never congratulated you on your reprieve from the Triumverate.”

He turned to face her.  “Yes, well, I’m not under any illusion that I’ve achieved a lasting peace with our African overseers,” he said soberly, despite the slight gleam of triumph she saw in his eyes.  “That Mutumbo is one crazy Zulu; he could change his mind at any minute and send his goon squad after me.  If we don’t find Jarod’s clone soon, I’m a goner.”

Sooner rather than later, brother.

Aloud she said, “I wouldn’t worry about it, Lyle.  You know what our father says: ‘can’t kill a Parker.’”  Her hand stole to the small of her back.  “But I wonder if that would hold true if it’s another Parker making the attempt?”

Now he looked wary.  She maintained her pleasant tone as she went on, “Oh, but what am I saying?  We’ve both already been there done that.  I shot you that night on the docks, you sent me into a building that was supposed to blow up.”  She neatly pulled her gun from its holster and pointed it at him.  “I think it’s time one of us got it right, don’t you?”

“What the hell…?”  Lyle instinctively backed up and Miss Parker used the opportunity to insert herself between him and the car, slamming the door shut with her body and cutting off his best means of escape.

“Get on your knees,” she ordered.

He just stared at her, his hands half-raised in a placating or warding-off gesture.

“On your knees now!”  She kicked him in the shin.  As he bent to instinctively grab his leg, she hit him on the back of the neck with the butt of her gun hard enough to force him down to the floor but not hard enough to knock him out.  She wanted him conscious for this.

His right hand clutching the back of his neck, Lyle used his left hand to steady himself so he wouldn’t pitch face-first into the garage’s scarred cement floor.   With some difficulty, he raised his eyes – wide and filled with pain and fear – to hers.  “Are you insane?” he cried.

That was funny, coming from him, but she had no urge to laugh.  “You’re one to talk, brother,” she said.

“Yes, that’s right, that’s right!  I’m your brother!” he babbled desperately.  “You can’t kill me!”

“Really?  You’re really going to play the sibling card right now?  Where was your brotherly love when you injected me with a deadly virus?  And you certainly didn’t care that I’m your sister when you drugged me last Friday!”

He blinked.  “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t bother to deny it,” she said through gritted teeth.  “Broots took me to the hospital where they discovered the Rohypnol in my system.  Were you actually going to rape your own sister, you sick bastard?”  She raised her gun to strike him again but stopped herself and steadied her weapon.  Don’t lose control, Parker.

Expecting the blow, Lyle cowered, his hands protecting his face.  “No, no, I would never…”  When he realized she wasn’t going to hit him, he lowered his hands.  “Rape you?” he went on in an aggrieved tone.  “How can you think I’d do such a thing?”

Miss Parker kept the gun aimed squarely at her target and said coldly, “Because I know you, Lyle.  The real you.  I know the disgusting pleasure you take in torturing and killing Asian women.  I know all about that hideous shed you have stashed away in your apartment.  I know you for the psychopath you truly are.” 

Lyle was still breathing heavily from her attack, but his hands were now down at his sides, and the panic had left his eyes.  “You can’t prove anything,” he said slowly.

Miss Parker gave a harsh laugh.  “Do you think I care?  Don’t you get it, Lyle?  You’re not getting your day in court.  I am your only judge, jury, and… executioner.”  She tightened her grip on the gun.

Lyle’s face paled.  “You’re not going to kill me.”

She was surprised by the confidence she heard in his voice.  Did he really believe that he could talk his way out of this situation?  Did she appear that weak to him?  Clearly, she’d allowed herself to be his victim too many times; that ended here and now. 

Even as she felt her resolve harden, the decision must have been reflected in her face, for Lyle’s demeanor abruptly changed.  He began to grovel again.  “Do you want me to beg, is that it?  Please, please don’t…”

“I just want you to die,” she hissed.  “To finally… die.”

“No, no…”

“Listen to me, Lyle,” she snapped.  “You think I’m beautiful when I’m angry?”  She leaned forward slightly.  “Well, take a good look, because this is the last thing you’ll ever see.”

And he did look.  As he gazed up at her, his fear seemed to melt away, and a kind of awe shone forth from his clear blue eyes.

Time for her to find her own peace.

Miss Parker pulled the trigger.

“Parker, no!”

His shout was covered by the sound of the gun going off, shockingly loud in the underground garage.  With his heart hammering in time to the fading echoes of the shot, Sydney raced to Miss Parker’s side.  “What have you done?” he panted.

She remained in her firing stance.  “Is he dead?” she demanded, wide eyes locked on the still form at her feet.

Sydney quickly knelt beside Lyle and felt for a pulse at both wrist and neck.  He found none.  “Yes,” he said heavily.

“Good.”

Sydney glanced up at her sharply.  His heart sank when he saw the look of grim triumph on her face.  Could she really be happy she’d just killed her own brother?

Sydney stood slowly.  “Miss Parker, give me the gun,” he said.  She didn’t resist when he carefully reached out and gently tugged the weapon from her grasp.  He noted that her hands were cold despite the sweltering heat of the garage. 

There was the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, and Sydney quickly deposited the gun in his coat pocket. 

Broots appeared and skidded to a halt in front of them.  “I heard a shot when I got off the elevator!  What-?”  He stared in horror at Lyle’s body.  “Oh, my God!  Is he…?”

 “Dead?  Yes,” Miss Parker said.  “I killed him.”

Her flat tone was disquieting.  Also troubling was the fact that she had just confessed to murder without blinking an eye.  Sydney pulled Broots aside and said with quiet urgency, “Broots, I want you to get Miss Parker out of here.”

The techie cast a wild glance around the garage.  “B-but the security cameras… they recorded the whole thing… shouldn’t I try to do something…?”

“It’s too late for that,” Sydney said, inwardly cursing Miss Parker’s decision to commit this crime right out in the open.  “What’s done is done.  I’ll try to delay the consequences, but in the meantime, you need to get her away from here!  Take her home.  She may be going into shock, so keep a close eye on her.”

“But what do I do if –?”

“I’ll call you as soon as I can.  Go!”

Broots nodded and took a step towards his colleague.  “Um, Miss Parker?”  He put a tentative hand on her elbow.  “Why don’t I drive you home?”

Sydney braced himself for an argument but felt no relief as he watched a silent Miss Parker allow Broots to lead her away from the scene.  She was definitely in shock, but he hoped more permanent damage had not been done to her psyche here today.  In killing her brother, had the sister just been lost forever, as well?

Sydney had just gotten back to his office when his phone rang.  Expecting a call from the infirmary, he was surprised to realize it was his cell ringing and not the inter-office line. 

Probably Broots wanting an update, he thought.  Or help dealing with Miss Parker.  As he retrieved his phone from the inner pocket of his suit coat, he realized he had no idea what he was going to tell him.

“This is Sydney,” he answered.

“Refuge.”

Sydney felt like he’d been hit by a bolt of lightning.  The world shifted violently beneath his feet, and he sank into his desk chair, struggling to draw breath into suddenly-constricted lungs.  That voice…

“Jarod?” he gasped.

“Yes, Sydney, it’s me.”

“My God!  They actually brought you back to life!”

“Not exactly.  Look, I’ll explain everything but not over the phone.  Can we meet somewhere?”

Sydney wanted nothing more than to see with his own eyes that Jarod - his Jarod – was truly alive and well.  He was filled with a desperate yearning to rush out of the building and race to whatever rendezvous spot Jarod chose.

But recent events took precedence, and Sydney realized this miracle could provide a solution to his immediate problem.  He reluctantly set aside his own selfish needs and said, “There’s no time, Jarod.  You need to get to Miss Parker.  She just shot Lyle.”

He heard a quick intake of breath.  “He’s dead?”

“Yes.”  Sydney hesitated then went on quickly, knowing Jarod needed to know more.  “Lyle put Rohypnol in her drink last Friday.”

“The date rape drug?” Jarod asked sharply.

“That’s right.”  In the pause that followed, Sydney could feel the man’s anguish as he tried to gather the courage to ask the next obvious question, so he offered quickly to spare him, “Luckily, Broots interrupted Lyle before he could do anything beyond put the sedative in her Scotch.  We got her to a hospital without anyone at the Centre knowing.  Miss Parker had no memory of what happened, so she was understandably upset when she found out what her brother had done.”  Sydney sighed.  “Still, I had no idea she would take such drastic action.  If I had known what she was planning…”

“You wouldn’t have been able to talk her out of it,” Jarod said.

“Probably not, but… the way she did it, Jarod… she just shot him in the middle of the parking garage in plain view of the security cameras!”

“That doesn’t sound like Miss Parker,” Jarod murmured.

“She hasn’t been herself since your – well, since your death.  Drinking too much, staying cooped up at home, isolating herself from those who would help her.”  Not that he’d been in any condition to offer support, he thought guiltily.  “She’s been in a dangerous downward spiral.  I just never imagined it would end like this.”

“What do you need me to do?”

Jarod sounded calm and in control now, and Sydney tried to respond in a similar manner.  “Get her out of town.  I’m not sure what the fallout from Lyle’s death will be, but I think it would be best if she’s far away for the time being.  I had Broots take her home.  I’ll call to let him know you’re coming.”  Sydney could well imagine how his perpetually-nervous friend would react if Jarod strolled in there unannounced.

“I’m on my way.”

“Jarod, wait!”

“Yes?”

How could he put into words what he wanted, what he needed, to say?  There was no time.  “It’s so good to hear your voice,” he finally managed.

Jarod answered with genuine warmth, “You, too, Sydney.”  Then he hung up.

Sydney disconnected on his end and realized he was still sprawled half-reclining in his desk chair, staring at the ceiling.  He let out a breath and felt some of the tightness ease from his chest.

Jarod was alive.  Suddenly, the world didn’t seem such a hopeless place.

Sydney straightened in his chair.  He had work to do.  First on the agenda: call Broots to tell him that Jarod was on his way to save the day.