Chapter 31

Miss Parker refused to feel guilty. 

After all, Jarod had asked her to call her father, had even given her his cell phone to do so.  That gesture of trust just proved to her how much he wanted her by his side when he continued the search for his family.  He’d never understood her relationship with her father, but at least he understood her need to resolve things before she could start a new life.

So he’d have to understand that some conversations had to be done in person.

From her hiding place among the copse of trees on the hillside, Miss Parker had a good view of the cemetery and would be able know as soon as her father arrived.  When she’d spoken to him on the phone yesterday, of course he’d insisted on seeing her and had agreed – if somewhat reluctantly – that it would be safest to meet away from the Centre.  He’d also assured her he could get here without being tailed but had taken no offense when she’d offered some suggestions on how he could achieve that.  Still, knowing how the best laid plans… she wasn’t taking any chances.  She’d made sure she was settled in this strategic position well before the appointed time; she wanted to see for herself that her father showed up alone.

These precautions she was taking would have to appease Jarod somewhat.  Again, Miss Parker told herself that she was not going to feel guilty about what she had done.  She felt slightly ashamed about the way she’d done it – sneaking out in the middle of the night, stealing the jeep, and leaving a misleading note that she hoped would slow down Jarod’s pursuit of her – but she had no choice.  She knew he would have tried to stop her, but she hoped he’d accept that the risk she was taking was necessary.  If she could successfully achieve her goal – a clean break from the Centre – Jarod would surely forgive her methods.  He’d wanted her freedom from the Centre almost as much as he’d wanted his own.  If all the freedom cost was one final, face-to-face meeting with her father so she could say a proper goodbye, Jarod couldn’t possibly begrudge her that.

She checked her watch.  Her father should be here any minute now.  She glanced uneasily at the sky, which even at this early hour of the morning was a threatening shade of gray.  The oppressive humidity and the eerie green light reflecting off the grass confirmed that the conditions were ripe for a storm.  She just hoped the rain would hold off until after she and her father had had a chance to talk.  Nothing about this conversation was going to be easy, and she didn’t need the added worry of dodging raindrops or lightning bolts.

Although the approaching storm would provide the perfect backdrop for what she was sure would be a turbulent discussion.  At the best of times, her father was not an easy man to talk to, and this upcoming conversation promised to be the most difficult one she’d ever had with him.  He’d sounded relieved to hear her voice when she’d reached him on his cell last night, expressing appropriate fatherly concern for her well-being.  But he’d also been Lyle’s father, and she knew it would be no easy task to explain why she’d killed her own brother.

Especially since she still hadn’t satisfactorily explained it to herself.  Jarod had helped her realize she hadn’t become her evil twin when she’d ended Lyle’s life, but it also wasn’t her father’s “angel” who had pulled that trigger.  Miss Parker didn’t expect her father to forgive her; the best she could hope for was a measure of understanding once she told him everything Lyle had done to her.  Still, she knew he’d never look at her the same way again. 

Maybe the realization of that fact was the reason why her decision to leave him behind had been easier than she thought.  When Jarod had first handed her his phone, she’d felt surprise followed almost immediately by a brief flare of resentment at what she perceived to be an ultimatum: say goodbye to her father or say goodbye to him.  While she’d never made any secret of her desire to go back to the corporate division of the Centre, the job transfer didn’t mean she’d have to cut her father out of her life completely.  But that’s exactly what she had to do if she wanted to go on the road with Jarod.  Miss Parker was still not sure what her role would be, but she realized she did want to be by his side.  Now that she’d torn her own family apart, maybe helping to put Jarod’s back together would serve as a sort of penance.

And maybe they could be truly happy together.  She wanted to believe that.

Miss Parker went on alert when she saw a taxi pull onto the cemetery’s circular drive; she relaxed slightly when she saw her father get out of the car.  Looked like he’d followed the plan they’d formulated together: exit his house via the back door, walk to the nearest bus stop, and then call a cab to bring him to the cemetery.  They’d arranged this early morning meeting so that no one watching her father’s house would expect him to leave for work for another hour or so.  The appointed time had also allowed her to slip out in the middle of the night and get here (hopefully) before Jarod ever woke up.  Thankfully he’d been sleeping more soundly lately; they both seemed to sleep better when they shared a bed.

Brushing away the image of a peacefully sleeping Jarod as she’d last seen him a few hours ago – a memory that brought with it a renewed sense of guilt - Miss Parker concentrated on the scene before her.  The taxi was departing, and her father had set out among the tombstones, walking slowly.  She felt strange, as if viewing him from this distance she was seeing him in a whole new light.  He appeared to be an old man carefully making his way across uneven ground, not at all the imposing figure who so often intimidated her.  She felt a twinge of concern.  Had this morning’s walk in the punishing heat and humidity been too much for him?  Or was his dragging pace a sign of the dread he felt about their imminent encounter?

The thought of it made her uneasy, as well, but she also felt an impatience for their talk to be over.  Still, she made herself wait a full five minutes, scanning the area to make sure no one had managed to follow her father here.  Finally satisfied that they were alone, Miss Parker emerged from her hiding place and headed down the grassy slope towards the semi-secluded section of the cemetery where her mother was buried.

It was a lovely spot, bordered by a lush flowering hedge on one side, an ornate wrought iron fence on another.  Despite the tragic reason for her regular visits here, she always felt more at peace when she left.  She only hoped that would be the case today.

Her father was staring down at the large black headstone as she approached.  Wearing his usual suit and tie, he offered a powerful profile as she drew closer, and she felt the usual stirring of insecurity when in his presence.  Her casual attire - white cotton pants, blue lace-trimmed tank top, and wedge sandals – also left her feeling underdressed, but she hadn’t been able to risk going home for a more appropriate outfit.  Her stride slowed briefly, but then she took a deep breath and quickened her pace, renewed determination in each step.

She stopped just short of the gravesite topped by the impressive granite slab with PARKER inscribed in bold white letters across its shiny surface.  Somewhat surprised that her father had not yet acknowledged her, Miss Parker reluctantly swung her gaze to the words filling one half of the headstone - “Catherine – Loving Mother” – and felt the familiar sorrow settle over her heart.

Then the sight of a new marker just to the left of the Parker monument had her gasping in shock, “What’s this?”

“I wasn’t sure where to spread his ashes, so I thought I’d place his remains here,” her father said in a distracted tone, almost as if he was still unsure about his decision.

The small gray stone simply said “Lyle” with the dates of his/their birthday and the day she’d killed him listed underneath his name.  “But… right next to Mama?”  It came out more a wail than a question.

“He was a Parker and deserved to be buried in the family plot” was his stoic reply. 

“He didn’t even deserve to be a member of our family!”

She now had his full attention.  “Your brother had barely come into this world before he was ripped away from your mother,” he said coldly.  “Now that he’s been taken from this world, it is fitting that he should finally rest beside her.  She would have wanted it that way.”

“No, no, she never knew him,” Miss Parker said, shaking her head.  “She never saw what he became.”

“I just thank God your mother never saw what you’ve become.”

The semi-private setting suddenly felt too isolated, enveloping them with an ominous stillness.  “And what is that, Daddy?” she asked quietly.

His pale blue eyes were fiercely intense, scarily similar to those of her late brother.  “A murderer,” he said flatly.

The words were like a knife in her gut, all the more painful because they were true.  “I had no choice-” she started.

“Don’t you dare!  Don’t even try to claim self-defense!  I saw the surveillance footage.  I know Lyle was unarmed.”

“Daddy, you don’t know what he did to me!” she protested.

“I know what you did!  You made your brother kneel down in that filthy garage and you, you executed him!”  His scowl was darker than the clouds gathering overhead, and a vein was throbbing on the side of his neck just above his collar.

She moved towards him, hands out in supplication, desperate for him to hear her, for him to understand.  “Please, let me explain,” she begged.

“Silence!” he thundered and struck her hard across the face.

The force of the blow knocked her to the ground, and she ended up half-sprawled against the hard cold Parker family headstone, her hand to her cheek.  Her mind reeled from the shock, more than the pain, of what had just happened. 

Her father turned away, his broad shoulders hunched as if from sudden exhaustion.  “The day you killed your brother, I lost both of my children,” he said heavily.

She started to get up and felt hands grab her from behind and haul her roughly to her feet.  As she struggled to see who had hold of her, Mutumbo, head of the Triumverate, stepped into view and went to stand beside her father.  “Perhaps we will be able to bring your daughter back to you, Mr. Parker,” he said smoothly.

Still somewhat dazed, Miss Parker managed to suppress her fear as she demanded, “Daddy, what’s going on?”

The African warlord’s obsidian eyes held an ounce of grudging respect for her reaction, but her father’s expression was sad as he looked at her.  “I can only assume temporary insanity caused you to do what you did,” he said.  “Mutumbo here has ways to treat the mind and may be able to help you.”

As the full weight of his betrayal sank in, she relied on her usual sarcasm to hide her rising panic.  “By turning me into a Bible-toting Born-Again like Raines?  Or worse?” she spat, straining against the grip of the two goons behind her.  Damn, they were stronger than the Centre’s Sweepers.

Mutumbo smiled thinly.  “Don’t worry, Miss Parker.  When we’re done with you, you will be more than ready, willing and able to serve the Centre again.”  He nodded to his men, who began dragging her away.

She thrashed and kicked but couldn’t break free from her captors.  “Daddy, please don’t let them do this,” she cried, painfully twisting to send a desperate glance back over her shoulder.  “Daddy!”

But her father had already redirected his gaze to the grave markers, and she realized she was truly as dead to him as the loved ones beneath his feet.

Jarod told himself not to worry.

He’d awakened a short time ago to find the other side of the bed empty and had been amazed by the sense of loneliness that had immediately washed over him.  After years of being alone, how could one week of waking up beside her make him so dependent on her presence first thing in the morning?

Disbelief that he hadn’t heard her get up followed this revelation, then a sense of uneasiness.  Quickly climbing out of bed to go looking for her, he almost missed seeing the folded note propped on the small bedside table.  The current from his sudden movement actually blew the piece of paper onto the floor.  He picked it up and read:

Gone for some real food for breakfast.  Worked up quite an appetite last night.  Be back soon. – M

As the rush of concern receded, he sank back down onto the side of the bed.  He could feel himself blushing as he remembered their overnight activities.  Both of them had been even more… enthusiastic than usual, and they hadn’t gone to sleep until the wee hours of the morning.  Pleasantly immersed in a deep, dreamless sleep, it was no wonder he hadn’t heard her leave.

Actually, it was surprising that he hadn’t woken up.  After years on the run and a whole lifetime before that of never knowing when someone would pull him out of his cell for a sim or to run some ghastly experiment on him, being a light sleeper was a handy ingrained trait.  Even though the Centre now believed him to be dead, he couldn’t let his guard down.  Miss Parker was right; if she stayed with him, he’d be at risk right along with her.

Of course, that didn’t change his desire – his need – for her to be by his side.  He smiled wryly.  All the time he’d kept in contact with her, feeding her clues about her murky past to distract her from the search for him, he’d had no idea how dependent he was becoming on her presence – even if only over the phone – in his life.  Now she was the distraction; he couldn’t concentrate on finding his family if he didn’t have her with him.  She’d said she wanted him to reunite with his parents; surely she would agree to help him do just that by agreeing to go with him.

Jarod stood and went to the window to confirm that she’d taken the jeep.  As he stared down at the empty driveway where he’d left it parked yesterday, he felt a twinge of unease.  He knew her absence this morning had nothing to do with an unusual appetite for breakfast; she was seeking space to think about what he’d told her, what he’d asked of her.  He hoped she was using this time to call her father and achieve some kind of resolution.  He didn’t trust the man and hated the way he treated his daughter, but he respected the fact that Miss Parker loved him and needed to say goodbye. 

Jarod decided to take a quick shower.  Maybe by the time he was done she’d be back with breakfast and an appetite to start their new life together.

When he saw Broots waiting for him in the sim lab, Sydney almost turned around and beat a hasty retreat along the catwalk.  Even from this distance, the man’s highly agitated state was obvious; he was pacing and running his hands over his head in a nervous habit that Sydney had no doubt contributed to his receding hairline.  He could actually feel his colleague’s distress coming at him in waves.  Hoping that what was upsetting Broots wasn’t something truly dire, Sydney took a deep breath and descended into the lab and whatever fresh hell awaited him.

Broots looked pathetically relieved to see him.  “Sydney!  Can I talk to you for a minute?  In private?”

There was no guaranteed privacy here at the Centre, but Sydney said, “Of course,” and obediently led the way up the short flight of stairs to his office.

Broots followed on his heels and quickly closed the door behind them.  But he still hesitated to speak, casting a wary glance around the room.

Sydney crossed to the radio on one of his bookshelves and turned it on, tuning it to the classical music station to provide cover against any hidden listening devices.  Unfortunately, “The Flight of the Bumblebee” was playing; its frantic pace would only intensify the mood in the room.

 “What is it, Broots?” Sydney prompted.  He heard the weariness in his voice and hoped his friend would not take offense; he just hated starting the day with a crisis, which was too common an occurrence here.

“I just heard that Mutumbo has captured Miss Parker!”

Sydney stared at him in dismay.  He didn’t waste time asking if the information was reliable; Broots had an impressive network of sources within this complex.  “Where?’ he asked, wondering how the Triumverate’s representatives had succeeded in tracking her down.

“She was at the cemetery with her father when they grabbed her.”

“Here?  In Blue Cove?”  Sydney wondered why the hell Miss Parker had come back to town and how Jarod had allowed her to take that risk.

Of course, he hadn’t, Sydney realized; Miss Parker didn’t let anyone dictate her actions.  “Where is she now?” he asked sharply.

“I don’t know.  I haven’t been able to spot her on any of the security cameras, and no one’s seen her enter the building.”  Broots looked close to tears, completely distraught by this failure in his intelligence-gathering.  “I only know that they’re getting ready to send her to Africa!”

Where certain torture and all kinds of insidious mind-control experiments awaited her.  Sydney couldn’t let that happen.  If he could speak to her father, he might have a way to stop this madness.  “Where’s Mr. Parker?” he asked.

Broots looked surprised by the question.  “I – I can find out,” he said, already heading for the door, as if eager to do something – anything – to help.

 Sydney’s cell phone rang.  He pulled it from his coat pocket and answered, “This is Sydney.”

“Is she there?” Jarod demanded.

His question and tone left little doubt that Miss Parker had indeed not cleared her travel plans with him first.  “I haven’t seen her, but the word is that she’s been apprehended by Mutumbo’s men,” Sydney replied as calmly as possible, moving closer to the radio.

Jarod said a word he’d never heard him use before.

“Apparently she was meeting her father at the cemetery when they seized her,” Sydney went on, nodding in response to a wide-eyed Broots’ mouthed Jarod?

“Of course she had to do it in person,” Jarod muttered.

“What’s that?”

“Where is Miss Parker now?”

Again, Sydney forced himself to keep his voice steady so as not to add to the rising panic all around him, including his own.  “All we know is that Mutumbo plans to take her to Africa as soon as possible.  I’m going to speak to Mr. Parker,” he added quickly.

“Don’t waste your breath,” Jarod said.  “He was probably responsible for the trap that was sprung on her.”

Sydney lowered his voice.  “Jarod, he’s her father.  No matter what his current emotional state, I highly doubt he would do anything to cause her harm.”

“Listen, Sydney, just do whatever you can to keep Miss Parker in the country.  I’ll take care of this.”

Sydney felt a renewed sense of urgency.  “Jarod, what are you planning?  Don’t do anything–” 

He heard the familiar click of Jarod hanging up on him.  “…rash,” he finished grimly.