Chapter 5

           Miss Parker felt herself smiling as she carried the large bouquet of spring flowers across her office.  She set the glass vase carefully on the end table by her leather settee and took a step back to admire the way the yellow roses and tulips in the arrangement seemed to glow in the sunshine.  On nice days like this she was thankful for the daylight streaming through the tall windows behind her desk; she was glad her office wasn’t located on the sub-levels like those caves where Sydney and Broots had to work.

            Right on cue, she heard her door open followed by a breathless, “Miss Parker!  You’re here!”

            She didn’t bother to turn around.  “It’s Monday morning and this is my office, Broots.  Where else would I be?”  She adjusted the position of the vase so the purple blooms of hydrangea and hyacinth would be more noticeable when she was sitting at her desk.

            “I’ve been trying to call you all weekend!”

            He sounded as twitchy as ever when he visited her office – like a mole just venturing into the light.  “I was out of town,” she said.  When her father had first suggested the weekend getaway to one of the most exclusive spas in New York City, she hadn’t immediately embraced the idea.   She hadn’t taken a vacation in years and felt that any break from the pursuit of Jarod would be frowned upon by the Centre.  But her father had pointed out that a couple of days of rest and relaxation could help to rejuvenate her and give new energy to the search.  She finally agreed and accepted his generous gift, a small part of her hoping that this was his way of showing fatherly concern and trying to make up for his part in assigning her the thankless job of trying to catch a genius.

            But it had been her idea to turn off her cell phone while she was away.  She didn’t want any interruptions while she spent two glorious days being pampered by people who didn’t know her, didn’t know Jarod, and had never heard of the Centre.  She’d enjoyed the full spa treatment - massages, a facial, a manicure, a pedicure, and swims in the indoor heated pool.  She’d managed to sneak away from the healthy program for a few drinks in a bar Saturday night and a little harmless flirtation with some mildly attractive men.  She hadn’t left the city without shopping in the boutiques and had come to work this morning feeling and looking like a new woman; her new gray suit had a splash of color in the form of a pink silk blouse.  Between that and the bright floral arrangement, she hoped to disperse a few of the shadows that lurked around every corner of the Centre. 

            “Then you haven’t heard!”

            “Heard what?” She tried to stay focused on the cheerful bouquet.

            There was a short pause then: “He’s here.”

            “Who?”

            Another pause, longer this time.  Then Broots said, almost reverently, “Jarod.”

            Miss Parker spun around so fast the hem of her long gray blazer caught on the flower arrangement and sent the vase tumbling to the floor. 

            Broots started forward, looking in horror at the spilled vase behind her, but Miss Parker stopped him in his tracks with a jab to his chest with a perfectly-manicured fingernail. “Leave it!” she ordered.  “What do you mean Jarod’s here?  Where?  How do you know?  Did you see him on a surveillance camera?  Does anyone else know?”

            Broots blinked, as if needing time to process her rapid-fire questions.  “No!  I mean, yes, they know, I mean, no, I didn’t see him, he’s not...”

            Miss Parker had to refrain from throttling him.

            Broots must have seen the intent in her steely gaze, because he took a deep breath and said clearly, “Jarod’s not here on his own.  He was brought in last Friday.”

            “Brought in?” she gasped.  “Who caught him?”

            Broots looked as miserable as the day he’d brought her the news of her twin brother’s identity.  “Lyle,” he said.

            Miss Parker felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach.  Barely aware she was doing so, she staggered back a few steps and clutched the front edge of her glass-topped desk for support.  Her father’s words rang in her ears, as loud a pronouncement as if he was in the room with her: Jarod is the Centre’s greatest asset.  Whoever brings him back will hold all the power.

            “How?” she finally managed.

            “I – I don’t know.  I haven’t heard any details.”  Whatever Broots was seeing in her face now made him look more terrified than ever; she hoped he wasn’t reflecting her emotions.  “Miss Parker, are you okay?  Can I get you a glass of water?”

            She wanted a drink, a stiff one, but right now she had to keep a clear head to figure out what the hell was going on.  “Where is Jarod now?” she asked.

            “Well, I don’t know for sure, but a lot of security has been assigned to SL-14 around the infirmary, and they’ve been there all weekend.”

            “The infirmary?” Miss Parker straightened.  “Was Jarod injured?  Did Lyle shoot him again?”

            “Not that I know of.  Wait… again?  What are you talking about?  Do you mean last fall when Lyle claimed he wounded Jarod and almost caught him?”

            Careful, Parker.  She had to remind herself that Broots didn’t know about the safe house Sydney had set up for Jarod last year after he was shot.  Sydney!

            “Does Sydney know about this?” she asked sharply.

            “No, I haven’t been able to get in touch with him either!” 

            No wonder Broots looked like he was going to cry; the only two people he could trust had been unreachable while something of monumental importance had taken place.

            “Relax, Broots.  Syd  left me a message Thursday night that he was going out of town for a few days.  Something to do with his twin project.”  In the message, Sydney had sounded almost apologetic for being away on the anniversary of her mother’s death.  In truth, she’d been glad of his absence; she knew he meant well, but it always felt like he was analyzing how she was dealing with her mother’s death.  Having a shrink for a friend – colleague – was tricky.

            But why hadn’t Broots been able to get through to Sydney?  She was sure he wouldn’t have turned off his cell phone, especially if he felt she might have needed to “talk” about her mother.  “You couldn’t get him on his cell?” she asked.

            “No, and the voice mail doesn’t seem to be working either; it kept disconnecting when I tried to leave a message.”

            “Maybe he forgot to charge the phone’s battery.”  Sydney could be a bit addled at times, especially when he was distracted by one of his pet projects, like the studies on twin relationships. That area of study was second in importance only to the Pretender project.

            Still, she didn’t like the way this looked.  First, Sydney had to suddenly leave town, then Broots was ordered to a Centre satellite to fix a computer glitch, then she…  Then she went away for the weekend on a spur-of-the-moment trip supplied by her father.  Because he cared about her.  Because he worried about her well-being.

            Because he wanted her out of the way, along with the rest of her team. 

            Damn it!  Miss Parker headed for the door, issuing orders as she went.  “Broots, find out for sure where they’re keeping Jarod.  And keep trying to call Sydney; I have a feeling you’ll be able to reach him soon.”  She yanked open her door and looked back at the heap of flowers and water seeping into her carpet. “And clean up that mess, will you?”

            Broots nodded.  “Where are you going?” he asked.

            “To congratulate my brother,” she said grimly.

            Miss Parker flung the frosted glass doors open and paused in the doorway for dramatic effect.

            “Ah, Angel!  There you are.  How was your weekend?” 

            Her heart sank.  On her way up here in the elevator, she had allowed herself to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Broots was wrong about Jarod being caught.  But her father’s boisterous greeting meant he was in a very good mood.  And Lyle was relaxing in one of the black leather chairs facing her father’s desk, legs crossed, a drink in his right hand.  She noticed her father also had a drink.  They were definitely celebrating.  Damn.

            She took a step forward and closed the doors behind her.  “Not as exciting as the one around here, I gather,” she replied smoothly.  Taking great care to keep her true emotions hidden, she turned towards Lyle and bared her teeth in what she hoped passed for a pleasant smile.  “I hear congratulations are in order, brother.”

            Lyle bowed his head slightly in polite acknowledgment of the effort she was making, but the gleam in his blue eyes showed the fierce delight he felt as he said, “Yes, Jarod is finally back here at the Centre where he belongs.”

            How many years had she wanted to say those very words?  To see the pride in her father’s eyes when she brought Jarod back to the Centre?  To see the look, the very look, in fact, that he was now giving Lyle.

            “Your brother certainly deserves congratulations,” Mr. Parker said, lifting his glass in a toast to his son.  “His plan was perfect, from conception to execution.”

            “Oh, I can think of a slight flaw in his plan,” Miss Parker murmured.  “Mainly the fact that he never mentioned it to the team of people who have been working for years to catch Jarod.”

            “Now, Angel, don’t be like that,” her father chided, frowning.  “With Jarod back at the Centre, everyone benefits.”

            Not Jarod, she couldn’t help thinking, but she quickly pushed that thought away and kept pushing for an answer to why she was purposely excluded from the capture of Jarod.  “I just think it’s odd that Sydney, Broots, and myself were all out of town when Lyle’s ‘brilliant’ plan was put into action.”

            “That’s not quite true, sis,” Lyle corrected mildly.  “In fact, you were an integral part of the plan.  I couldn’t have done it without you when I caught Jarod at the cemetery on Friday.  Or without Brigitte and Willie’s help,” he tossed out, almost as an afterthought.

            “The cemetery?” Miss Parker’s sharp gaze slid quickly from Lyle to her father.  “You found Jarod at the cemetery?”

            Her father nodded, taking a sip of his drink, while Lyle responded, “Not just found him, Parker, I predicted that he would be there.  So I was ready and waiting to spring the trap.”  Now the smugness was evident in his voice.

            “How could you possibly guess that Jarod would be at the cemetery then?”

            “Because it was the anniversary of your – our – mother’s death, and he knows you go there every year.”

            “That still doesn’t explain why he’d-”

            “Because he likes to see you suffer!” her father burst out, slamming his glass down on his desk.  “I’ve told you for years, Angel, that Jarod is not to be trusted.  He fills your head with half-truths or outright lies and tries to manipulate you at every turn.  All because he wants revenge on the whole Parker family.  That’s why he was lurking in the bushes at the cemetery last Friday; he wanted to watch you grieve for your mother, gets some sick pleasure out of seeing you in pain.”

            Stunned, Miss Parker could only stare at her father after his rant.  Did he actually believe Jarod was capable of such cruelty?

            “He’s right, sis,” Lyle offered quietly, breaking the heavy silence that had descended onto the room.  He tossed back the rest of his drink, unfolded himself from the chair with casual elegance, and walked over to the liquor cabinet.  “Jarod is not the hero he ‘pretends’ to be.  He’s more of a vigilante roaming about the country and bringing so-called wrong-doers to justice.  What do you think he wants to do to those of us who work at the Centre?” He placed his empty glass on the counter but brought the bottle of Scotch over to top off his father’s drink.  Mr. Parker grunted, took a large swallow, and leaned back heavily in his chair, as if his outburst had drained him of all energy. 

            Lyle lifted the bottle and raised an eyebrow at Miss Parker.  She shook her head, still resisting the growing need for a drink.  With these outrageous accusations being flung about by her family, she needed to keep a clear head.  “So you guessed that Jarod would be at the cemetery on Friday when I was there and you decided to set a trap for him.  With me as bait!” she finished bitterly.

            Lyle smiled.  “I said you were an important part of Jarod’s capture.”

            “And you knew about this the whole time?” Miss Parker asked her father.  “That’s why you were so eager to go with me to the cemetery!”

            “That’s not the only reason,” Mr. Parker said, sounding as if her accusation offended him.  But the slight grimace he’d made before responding gave him away; she’d caught him and he knew it.  “I wanted to visit your mother’s grave with you, to pay my respects and support you in your grief.  But suspecting that Jarod would be there, watching and sneering from the shadows, just made me more determined than ever to be by your side.  To protect you!”

            Miss Parker suspected that his real reason for standing beside her was to keep her distracted while Lyle sprung his trap.  Lyle’s idea, no doubt,  so that he could be the one to get all the credit for catching Jarod.  She still found it hard to believe that this plan had actually worked.  How could Lyle’s team have corralled Jarod so easily?  Yes, she’d been focused on her mother and the painful memories that always surfaced on that anniversary, but how could she have been so oblivious to what was happening a short distance away in the cemetery?

            “Well, you did a good job, Daddy,” she said.  “I had no idea I was even in any danger from stalker Jarod.”  She ignored his scowl at her sarcasm and quickly turned to challenge Lyle: “How did you manage to make Jarod give up so easily, brother?”

            “It took a little persuasion,” Lyle admitted slowly, but the satisfied glint still shone in his eyes.

            “Is that why he’s in the infirmary?  Did your ‘persuasion’ take the form of a bullet?”

            That wiped the smirk off his face.  “I think I’ve underestimated Mr. Broots’ ability to ferret out information,” he grudgingly admitted.

            “It’s not hard to pinpoint Jarod’s location when half the security department is staked out on SL-14,” Miss Parker said.  “Is Jarod injured?  What did you do to him?” Her voice was even, but her heart was beating a little faster as she waited for Lyle’s answer.

            “Don’t worry; the golden boy is fine,” Lyle soothed.  “We’re just giving him a thorough physical.  After all these years on the run, who knows what kind of condition he’s in?  He needs to be in tip-top shape before he can start his sim work again.”

            And so he can withstand any torture you decide to inflict on him.  Miss Parker uncomfortably remembered her promise to Jarod six months ago when she gave her word that she wouldn’t let Lyle mistreat him.

            “Speaking of which,” Lyle went on, “I need to get back to work on that project we talked about earlier.”  He addressed their father.  “I’ll have a written proposal to you by the end of the day.”

            “Good, good,” Mr. Parker said briskly.  “The Triumverate is anxious to get started now that we have Jarod back.”

            Lyle placed the bottle of Scotch on the desk, nodded at Miss Parker, and left the office.  She was torn between her desire to follow her brother and try to wring more information out of him or stay and try to wheedle some further details out of her father.  At the pace he was drinking, her father might be the easier target.

            No, there was no way she was going to let Lyle get the last word.  She flung a quick but meaningful “We’ll talk later, Daddy” over her shoulder and hurried out of the room.

            She caught up to Lyle as he waited for the tower elevator.  “You have to run any project involving Jarod by me and Sydney before you implement it,” she demanded.

            Lyle arched an eyebrow.  “Do I?”  he drawled.  “Sydney was an important part of the original Pretender project, so I’m sure the Triumverate will approve of him still being involved in some capacity.  But you?”  He paused.  “Your job description was to catch Jarod.  Jarod has been caught.  Not by you, but no one can argue with your dedicated service to the Centre for all these years.”

            She cringed inside but kept glaring at her brother.

            “So maybe you should take an extended vacation.  Your weekend at the spa has done wonders for your complexion.  Or maybe it’s that new blouse really bringing out the color in your cheeks.” He reached out and lightly caressed the side of her face.

            Miss Parker flinched and pulled away.  Just then the elevator doors opened.  Lyle stepped inside and held the door for her.  “Going down?” he inquired pleasantly.

            Like hell she was getting in that elevator with him!  “Not yet,” she said through gritted teeth.

            Lyle shrugged, sketched a jaunty salute at her, and let the door close.

            Miss Parker let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and sagged against the wall.  Jarod was the one who had been caught, so why did it feel like a trap was closing around her?