Chapter 29

            Sydney stared down at his notes.  Broots had explained the whole process twice and even offered to make the connection for him, but Sydney wanted privacy for this call.

            Checking his handwritten instructions one more time, he carefully typed the phone number into what he hoped was the correct window.  Then he clicked on the green telephone icon to initiate the call.  As he waited for it to go through, Sydney positioned himself in front of the computer screen so he’d be at the proper distance from the built-in microphone and also centered in the webcam’s frame. 

            Then suddenly, there he was… Jarod.  Sydney felt his breath catch in his throat as he finally laid eyes on the man he’d thought he’d never see again.  Overcome by emotion, he found himself unable to speak.

So Jarod spoke first.  “Hello, Sydney,” he said.  “It’s good to see you.”

            “You, too, Jarod,” Sydney finally managed hoarsely, glad he was sitting down for this face-to-face, as he felt decidedly weak in the knees.  He hid his trembling hands in his lap.

            Jarod nodded, perhaps unable to trust his own voice at this moment.  Then he asked briskly, “Is this connection secure?”

            “I’m using Broots’ daughter’s computer.  We figured the Centre wouldn’t think to check her…” He glanced at his notes again.  “…Skype account.  I’m actually making the call from Debbie’s bedroom while she’s still at a friend’s house from a sleepover last night.”

            Jarod smiled slightly.  “That explains the posters.  I didn’t think you were a fan of boy bands.”

            Sydney went blank for a second then cast a quick look over his shoulder at the various posters of the latest teen singing sensations.  “Yes… well, Broots thought this would be the last place the Centre would expect to find me.”  He returned his attention to the computer screen and tried to see what was behind Jarod – was that a large expanse of green grass through a picture window?  “Looks like you have a slightly better setting than I,” he added.

            Jarod shifted his body slightly as if to hide the view.  “What’s important is that it’s safe here,” he said.

            “Yes.”  As always, Jarod was quick to get down to business – from years of keeping conversations short to foil any attempts to trace the call.  Sydney wished they could just talk for once, but he dutifully went on, “Unfortunately, as we feared, Lyle’s death was declared a Schedule 7 incident.  Teams have been dispatched to find Miss Parker.”

            Not surprised, Jarod acknowledged the news with a sober nod.

“I believe the order came directly from the Triumverate,” Sydney continued.  “With the Centre still reeling from your death, losing Lyle just made matters worse.  The word is that Mutumbo is on his way here to personally take control.”

Again, Jarod did not look surprised, and this time there was a note of grim satisfaction in his voice when he asked, “And what is Mr. Parker doing about all this?”

Jarod’s animosity towards the Centre’s Director was understandable, but in this instance, Sydney felt the need to say something in Mr. Parker’s defense.  “The man is in shock, Jarod.  He just lost his son, a tragedy compounded by the hideous reality that his daughter is the one who pulled the trigger.  No matter how justified, Miss Parker’s actions will be difficult for her father to accept.” 

Jarod only grunted.

Sydney said, “A memorial service for Lyle was held yesterday at the Centre.  A somber affair, well-attended.”

“Mandatory for Centre employees, I presume?” Jarod said drily.

Sydney didn’t dispute that assumption, but he did comment thoughtfully, “Brigitte seemed truly disturbed by Lyle’s death.  Her relationship with him must have been more serious than any of us knew.”  He shook off the thought and added, “There was a private graveside service for family only.  I believe Lyle was cremated.”

Jarod raised an eyebrow.  “What, Lyle didn’t rank a berth at the Centre’s cryonics facility?”

“The Parker name does not carry the weight it once did, Jarod, especially in light of recent catastrophic events.  If Mutumbo really is on his way here, I foresee some major changes in the chain of command.”

“Are you and Broots safe?”

“Well, we’ve already been questioned.”  At Jarod’s look of alarm, Sydney hastened to add, “Just questions; no enhanced interrogation methods were used.  But we remain under surveillance.  Hence the unusual venue for this early morning call.  Broots made sure to mention to several people yesterday that his car is in the shop, so I’m technically here to drive him to work.”

Jarod was shaking his head.  “You take too many risks, Sydney.”

“It was worth it to finally see you.”  Feeling another surge of emotion, he had to pause before being able to go on in a normal tone, “You’re looking well.  How’s Miss Parker?”

“Better.  I think the fresh air agrees with-” 

When Jarod abruptly left the sentence unfinished, Sydney took no offense.  No connection was completely secure, so it was wise of Jarod to avoid offering any clues as to his and Miss Parker’s current location. 

“The first couple of days were a little rough,” Jarod went on, “but she’s starting to act like her old self again.”  He sighed.  “Which means she’s probably not going to want to hide out for much longer.”

Sydney offered a sympathetic smile.  “Miss Parker has never been very good at sitting still.  I hope you can find a way to occupy her time.”

An unexpected expression flickered across Jarod’s face and was gone before Sydney could identify it, but he thought it looked like… embarrassment?

Jarod was also getting a fidgety look about him which meant the call was coming to an end.  Sydney still had one piece of business that needed to be addressed.  “Has Miss Parker spoken about Lyle?” he asked.

“No.”

Not what he wanted to hear.  “Jarod-”

“Sydney, I know what you’re going to say.  She needs to talk about what happened.  It’s not healthy for her to keep it inside.  I know that, but I… I didn’t want to push her before she was ready and possibly do more harm than good.” 

Sydney wished he could cross his arms or pace like he usually did when on the phone with Jarod, but he had to stay within the frame of the internet camera.  He tried to project the calm assurance of a psychiatrist as he said, “If she won’t bring him up, Jarod, you’ll have to initiate the discussion.”

“Maybe you can talk to her.  We could set up another video chat if you think that-”

Sydney shook his head.  “As much as I am her friend, Miss Parker still thinks of me as a therapist.  If I try to talk to her about Lyle, she’ll resent what she sees as an attempt to psychoanalyze her.  Nothing will be accomplished.”

Jarod looked at a loss.  “What can I do?”

“Just talk to her, Jarod.  I believe you may be the only person she trusts enough to confide in.”

Now he looked surprised.  “I don’t know about that…”

“You two have always had a special bond,” Sydney persisted.  “I’m glad you’re together now.”

Again, something unreadable flickered in Jarod’s eyes before he glanced away.  “I have to go,” he said.

“Okay.”  Sydney straightened.  “Be safe, Jarod.”

“You, too, Sydney.”  His image disappeared from the computer screen.

If they’d been having that conversation in person, Sydney knew he wouldn’t have let Jarod leave without a hug.  But he was still satisfied with this sign-off, so much better than the usual dial tone when Jarod abruptly hung up.

And he’d had the chance to see that his boy was alive and well.

Sydney knew he would do everything in his power to make sure Jarod stayed that way.

Jarod was still staring at the blank computer screen when Miss Parker walked into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said.  “Water’s hot.”

“Thanks,” she said and headed straight for the stove, as he’d known she would.

In the few mornings they’d spent together at the farmhouse, he’d learned that she’d meant it when she’d said she only had coffee for breakfast.  As he deftly detached the web cam and closed the lid of his laptop as quietly as possible, he hoped her pre-caffeine grogginess would keep her from noticing.

As she poured from the kettle into the mug he’d left on the counter for her, she asked, “Were you just Skyping with Broots?”

Her casual tone didn’t fool him; he knew she was anxious to know what was going on back at the Centre.  So far he’d been able to keep his daily conversations with Sydney private, but he had a feeling that was about to change.  And maybe it should.  With Miss Parker acting more like herself, she was strong enough to know the truth.  And hopefully tell him the truth about how she was feeling.

“Not Broots,” he said.  “Sydney.”

“Really?”  She turned to face him.  He imagined he’d looked that surprised when Sydney had first suggested this method of communication.  “Sydney actually did a video chat?”

“That’s right.  I think he needed to see me to truly believe I was alive.”

“I’m sure you would have had a real reunion with him by now if you hadn’t gotten sidetracked rescuing me.”

As usual, there was a slightly sarcastic edge to her words, but Jarod knew what she wasn’t saying: she hated the fact that she’d needed rescuing, and she was sorry that he hadn’t been able to meet face-to-face with Sydney yet.

Miss Parker carried her steaming mug over to the round oak table and sat down across from him.  “So, how are things at the Centre?”

Another casual question that was anything but.  Now that she’d come right out and asked him, he wasn’t going to lie to her.  “They had a memorial service for Lyle yesterday,” he said, trying to observe her reaction without appearing to do so.  “And Sydney told me the Triumverate has classified his death as a Schedule 7 incident and sent Sweeper teams out to look for you.”

She avoided his eyes, making it hard for him to read her expression, but he saw her mouth tighten as she kept her gaze directed down at her mug.  “Mutumbo should give me a raise for getting rid of that psycho for them,” she said bitterly.  “Lyle was a liability.”

True, but if that was the main reason she was willing to give for killing him, Jarod realized with a sinking heart that he had his work cut out for him if he was going to get her to open up about Lyle.

Miss Parker grimaced as she took a too-large swallow of hot coffee.  She cleared her throat and asked, “Is my father okay?”

There was genuine concern in her voice, which was no surprise.  She’d never been shy about her feelings for her father, even when he totally disagreed with them.  “He’s fine so far,” Jarod said.  “I’m more worried about Sydney and Broots.  They’re under constant surveillance.”

“But they don’t know where we are.”

“What the Triumverate knows is that they are two of your closest allies at the Centre.  They may try to force information out of them.”

“They’ll be fine,” Miss Parker said.  “I’ve been through some tense situations with those two before.  Sydney may seem like the absent-minded professor, but he knows how to survive.  And Broots’ techno skills are too important to the Centre for them to dispose of him.”

She spoke briskly, like she was giving a report at a business meeting, but Jarod saw the way she tightly gripped her coffee mug and noticed that she still wasn’t quite meeting his gaze.  She couldn’t hide how much she cared for the two colleagues they’d left behind.

“I hope you’re right,” he said quietly, having his own difficulty downplaying the danger he knew the men were facing.  Then he went on, determined to do what his mentor had asked of him, “Sydney wanted to know how you’re doing.”

He wasn’t going to let her get away with that “who, me?” look she was giving him, so he spelled it all out for her.  “A week ago you were at the Centre, I was dead, and Lyle was alive,” he said.  “Now Lyle’s dead, I’m alive, and you’re a fugitive.  Your world’s been turned upside-down.”

Now she did look at him, with surprising honesty, as she reached out to take his hand.  “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” she said softly.

He had to agree.  As much as he hated the crisis that had finally brought them together, he didn’t regret the last few days.  He relished the new level their relationship had reached, at times thoroughly enjoying the physicality of it.

But this was not one of those times.  Jarod reluctantly withdrew his hand from hers.  “Miss Parker, we need to talk about this,” he said.

“Miss Parker?  So formal,” she chided teasingly, her lips curving into a seductive smile.  “I thought we were past that.” 

He maintained his serious tone.  “We can’t avoid this discussion forever.”

“What is there to discuss?  You told me how and why you faked your death, and I told you I understand.” 

He wasn’t sure that was entirely true, but right now they needed to address the bigger elephant in the room.  “We haven’t talked about Lyle,” he said.

Her eyes flashed blue fire.  “I shot and killed the bastard and now he can’t hurt any of us anymore.  There’s nothing else to say.”

“Then why are you having nightmares?”

He’d said it as gently as possible, but she still reacted as if she’d been slapped.  But the hurt was quickly replaced by anger.  “Really?  You really want to discuss our bad dreams, Jarod?  Somehow I think you have a lot more to talk about than I do.”

He couldn’t help but feel the intended sting of her words, but he knew she was just lashing out, trying to focus the conversation on his trauma instead of hers.  “I’ve had years to learn how to deal with my nightmares on my own,” he countered evenly, “but you don’t have to.  You can talk to me.”

“Oh, you want me to talk to you, Dr. Jarod?  You want to analyze my dreams so you can report back to Sydney?  Just make sure you tell him how you’ve managed to be right there in case I wake up screaming in the night.  Some new kind of sex therapy?”  Her mouth curled into an ugly sneer.

Jarod told himself she was only saying these hurtful things to distract him from the topic of Lyle, but he could feel his face tightening into that stoic mask he wore when on his Pretends, a mask he’d never wanted to wear around her.  “Please, don’t,” he said, stretching his hand out to her across the table.

This time she was the one who pulled out of reach, standing up so fast she sent her chair toppling.  She didn’t seem to notice the crash it made as it hit the tile floor.  “But you don’t have anything to tell Sydney, do you, because when I’m with you, I don’t have bad dreams!”  There was a hitch in her voice, and she had to pause for a shuddering breath.

Jarod got to his feet but stayed on his side of the table, unsure how she’d react if he tried to approach her.

She must have sensed what he was considering, because her next words cut even deeper and were clearly meant to keep him at a distance.  “No nightmares – that’s an unexpected benefit of sleeping with you, Jarod,” she said with a smirk.  “Maybe that’s the real reason I’ve been so eager to jump into bed with you!”

No!  He couldn’t let this continue, couldn’t allow her to turn their most precious, most intimate moments into something cheap and ugly.  He crossed to her and pulled her into his arms, holding on tight as she struggled.  “Stop, please stop,” he pleaded.  “Talk to me.  Let me help.”

“I don’t need your help!” she cried, still trying to break free of his hold.

He wouldn’t let go.  Aware that he was gripping her bare arms hard enough to leave marks, he doggedly held on, telling himself that a few temporary bruises were better than inner scars that might never heal if she didn’t confront her demons now.  After what seemed an eternity, she stopped fighting him and buried her face in his neck.  Her body was still shaking, but he felt not a single tear fall on his skin.  He let go with one hand and smoothed it over her long silky hair.  Slowly, her trembles subsided.

“I don’t need your help,” she said again, her voice muffled against the curve of his collarbone.  “I shouldn’t need your help.  All I did was what needed to be done.”

What he should have done, Jarod thought, what he’d had several opportunities to do.  With an effort, he pushed the guilt aside, knowing it would do nothing to help Miss Parker now.

“I did what had to be done,” she repeated, as if trying to convince herself.

“Yes, you did,” he soothed.  “It was self-defense.”

She lifted her head.  “No, it wasn’t.  Lyle was unarmed.”

She sounded defiant, but he could see the uncertainty clouding her blue eyes, so he tried to make it clearer for her conscience.  “You were completely justified in what you did,” he said firmly.  “After what Lyle did to you…”

She pulled back, and he let her go.  “He didn’t rape me,” she said in a monotone.  “Sydney told you that, right?  They examined me at the hospital and found no evidence of sexual assault.”

That fact still sent a shockwave of relief through his system, only a fraction of what she must have felt when she’d learned Lyle hadn’t violated her in that way.   “I know, but…”  He hated what he was about to say, but he needed her to accept that she’d done the right thing when she’d killed Lyle.  “But he could have.  If Broots hadn’t stopped by your office when he did…”

The haunted look in her eyes told him that she’d had that thought many times.  “I know,” she said.

“And he could have killed you when he injected you with that virus.”  Which was his fault.  Jarod again suppressed unproductive feelings of remorse.

“I know.”

Jarod pressed harder.  “And who knows how many innocent women he tortured and killed?”

“I know!”  She raked her fingers through her hair.  “Lyle was an evil man, and he deserved to die.”  Her gaze slid sideways.  “So why the hell do I feel guilty?”

Because you’re human.  But he knew such a simple answer would never be able to calm her inner turmoil.  “It’s only natural that you’d feel -” he started.

“Don’t!”  She jabbed a warning finger in the air between them.  “Don’t spout soothing platitudes you learned from some how-to-be-a-shrink book!”

“Then how about I tell you what I learned from my own experience?”  He took a breath.  “Do you remember Damon?”

“Well, it’s hard to keep all of the Centre’s psychotic operatives straight, but I do know he’s one we no longer have to worry about, thanks to you.”

“Yes, I killed him.  And I was justified in doing so.”

“Of course you were,” she said impatiently.  “He had a gun to Broots’ head!”

“I know, but still…”  I never pulled the trigger before.  He remembered how hard it had been to say those words to Sydney, how confused and miserable he’d felt as he’d huddled in a phone booth in the rain.

Good thing he hadn’t called Miss Parker that night; if the look she was currently giving him was any indication, she clearly thought he was crazy for regretting his actions.  “Jarod,” she said.  “Don’t tell me you actually feel guilty about killing that monster?”

“Not guilty, exactly, but right after it happened, I felt… wrong.  I knew I had acted to save Broots’ life, but a part of me also wanted revenge on Damon for killing my friend Kenny years before.  Sydney helped me to understand the conflict I was feeling was the impetus of my guilt.”

“Look, Jarod, if you needed to hear Sydney’s psycho-babble to feel better, I’m glad he could help you.  But I think what you did was pretty clear-cut, no different from what any cop would have done when faced with an armed and dangerous criminal.”  She paused.  “My situation is not so simple.”

“Just because Lyle wasn’t armed when you shot him doesn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous,” Jarod insisted.

            “No, that’s not what I mean, I…” 

            Her distress was palpable.  “Then what?” he urged.

            “Lyle was my brother!”  She seemed startled by her own words, tightly compressing her lips as if guarding against any more outbursts.

            Killing one’s own brother, even if it was necessary, would be enough to cause extreme emotional conflict in anyone.  But Miss Parker wasn’t just anyone, and the Parker family was far from normal.  She’d hated to even acknowledge that Lyle was related to her, so he doubted their familial tie could be the sole reason for her current distress.

“He was never a brother to you,” Jarod said.

            “He didn’t have much of a chance,” she muttered.

            “You gave him every chance!  Once you learned he was your brother, you decided to overlook his earlier transgressions, you welcomed him into the family business, and you even worked side by side with him to… find me.”

            “Not willingly.”

            “You still made the effort, which was more than he deserved.”

            She seemed to grow tired of this back-and-forth.  She moved past him to go stand by the kitchen’s bay window where she hugged herself, as if seeking warmth from the early morning sunshine streaming in through the glass. 

            After a moment she said, “If only my aim had been better that night on the pier years ago.  Mr. Lyle would have been gone for good, and none of us would ever have known he was a Parker.”

            None of us?  He remembered Sydney’s words: The man is in shock, Jarod.  He just lost his son…his daughter is the one who pulled the trigger.  Jarod had a sudden inkling that Miss Parker’s guilt stemmed partly from how her actions had affected her father.

            “You know I went there with the intention to kill him,” she continued, still talking about that long-ago night.  “I’d been ordered by my… by the Centre to get rid of Mr. Lyle.  I’ve often wondered if I would have pulled the trigger if Lyle hadn’t drawn his weapon.”  She paused and when she finally spoke again, the words were barely audible.  “Well, I don’t have to wonder anymore…because I’ve done it.  I went to that parking garage with the intention to kill my brother.  I made him kneel, made him beg for his life.  But I still shot him.  I executed him.”

            With his talent for simulations, her words put him right there in the garage when she’d pulled the trigger.  He winced as he imagined the echoes the gunshot must have made as Lyle slowly toppled over, almost in slow motion…

            Miss Parker wasn’t quite finished.  “And in that moment I became more like him than ever before,” she said.

Her weary, despairing tone tore at his heart.  “You are nothing like him,” Jarod said through gritted teeth, suddenly angry – at her, at Lyle, at the whole hellish situation.

            She spun around, her face pale despite the summer rays that had been upon her.  “But I am!  We weren’t just brother and sister, Jarod.  We were twins!  That means we share a hell of a lot of DNA.  We’re genetically predisposed to be similar.  Now I’ve become a killer just like him.”

            “Not like him!  Lyle got a sick pleasure out of killing.  I doubt you were even thinking clearly when you shot him.”

            She gave a short, bitter laugh.  “Great, that just proves I’m as crazy as he was.”

            “You may share some DNA but nothing else.  You and Lyle were raised in completely different environments.”

            “Don’t give me that ‘nature versus nurture’ nonsense.”

            “That argument has merit.  When Lyle was growing up, his only adult role models were an abusive adoptive father, a mentally unstable adoptive mother, and… Raines.  He never had a chance.”

            “Most people would say the same thing about you, Jarod.  Look at the hellhole where you spent your childhood.  You should have grown up to be a master criminal, yet you turned out to be one of the good guys!  You had to have inherited that sense of decency from your parents.”

            “Maybe, but I also had Sydney to teach me right from wrong,” Jarod said quietly.  He crossed to Miss Parker and captured her hands in his; her fingers were cold despite the summer sunshine.  “Like you had your mother.  Lyle never had the chance to know her, but you did.  Not nearly long enough but long enough to learn core values from her.”

            “Oh, yeah, I bet she’d be so proud of me,” Miss Parker said.

            “Yes, she would be very proud of the woman you’ve become…”

            She was shaking her head, the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes.  “Jarod, I’ve told you before that I’m not my mother,” she said, her voice heavy with the continuing disappointment of that fact.

            “No, you’re not,” he agreed.  “You’re much stronger than she was.”  He tenderly brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek.  “You’re the strongest person I know.”

            “Then why do I feel like this?” she whispered.

            “If you didn’t – if you’d shot your brother and felt nothing – then you truly would be his evil twin.”  He tried a smile.  “So it’s a good thing you feel this way.”

            “Yippee,” she said sourly.

            Jarod pulled her close and murmured into her hair, “It will get better.”

            Even as he uttered the platitude, he fully expected a rebuke from her for offering more shrink-like advice.  At this point, he agreed that he’d done nothing to help her resolve her emotional conflict.  Unfortunately, he knew that was something that only she could do.  He resolved to stay by her side while she worked through this crisis of conscience, even if she tried to push him away. 

He was surprised when he felt her relax into his embrace, her arms sliding around him in an even tighter hug.  “Jarod?”  She sounded like the little girl he’d known so long ago.  “Would you hold me for just a minute?”

That he could do.  Forever, if she wanted him to.

If only.