Chapter 8

                Amazing how much could change in a week, Miss Parker reflected as she stepped off the elevator onto the bustling main concourse level of the Centre.  Last Monday she had come to work feeling refreshed and – dare she say it - happy.  Then Broots had broken the news that Lyle had caught Jarod, she’d learned that her father and brother had used her as bait for the trap, and she’d spent the next seven days banging her head against the wall trying to find out where they were keeping him.  It was getting harder and harder to come to the Centre each day, but she refused to take the vacation Lyle kept suggesting; she was not going to give him the satisfaction of slinking off in defeat while he gloated about being the one who had finally brought Jarod in.  It made her sick to watch him basking in the praise from their father, but she knew it was only a matter of time until he messed up, and she wanted to have a front-row seat to watch the mighty fall.

            She was surprised he’d managed to keep Jarod from escaping this long.  But she had to admit that Lyle had the ability to match Jarod’s genius with his own type of insane brilliance.  She may hate being left out of the loop, but by limiting the number of people who knew where Jarod was being held in the Centre, Lyle had successfully – so far - eliminated any contact between Jarod and potential allies who might help him escape.  Miss Parker knew she’d failed to capture Jarod on numerous occasions, but most of those weren’t her fault; she couldn’t shoot at the fleeing Pretender when Sydney jumped in front of her gun, could she?  The time she and Jarod had been held hostage at the bank?  She’d been focused on what Fenigor could tell her about her mother’s death, giving Jarod the chance to escape through the sewer system beneath the bank.  Then there was the time that Angelo gave up his last dose of serum to save that boy Davey from being permanently brain-damaged.  She’d been off her game due to the swirling emotions caused by the possibility of Angelo being her brother.  And last year when Jarod had been shot and she’d had him cuffed and helpless?  

            Okay, that time it had been her fault.  She shouldn’t have kissed Jarod and definitely not let it rattle her so much so that she failed to take him into custody.

            But no one knew about that.  Except Jarod.  And she highly doubted that he’d tell anyone.  He probably thought that kiss meant he could manipulate her in the future, possibly use their emotional connection to his advantage.  Well, he was wrong.  They had no emotional connection.  That kiss had been purely physical and a mistake she’d had six months to forget about.

            So why could she still remember every detail of that moment as if it had happened only yesterday? 

            Someone bumped into her shoulder.  “Watch it!” Miss Parker snarled, turning on the file-toting copy clerk who cast one frightened glance at her and scurried away.

            Miss Parker shook off her recent thoughts and crossed the busy hallway, her heels tapping a determined rhythm that made other passersby give her a wide berth.  But her steps slowed as she approached her office and saw both Broots and Sydney waiting for her, Broots looking distressed and Sydney grim.

            Just another typical morning at the Centre.  Stifling a sigh, she walked over to them.  “What?” she said, dreading to hear the latest bad news delivered in Broots’ halting manner.

            Amazingly, he came right to the point.  “Angelo is out of the infirmary and back in his quarters.”

            “He shouldn’t have any lasting effects from the electric shock,” Sydney added.

            “As if we could tell,” Miss Parker murmured, but she was inwardly relieved.  Ever since she’d once wondered if Angelo could be her brother, she’d softened towards the empath.  She had briefly seen him as the man he would have been had Raines not fried his brain in an attempt to create a Pretender.  His strange behavior still irritated her more often than not, but she felt sympathy where before she’d only felt revulsion.

            “Unfortunately, it’s too dangerous for Angelo to make any more forays into the Centre’s conduits,” Sydney went on.  “So we won’t be able to count on his help in finding Jarod.”

            He sounded despondent, and Miss Parker felt a flash of irritation.  How pathetic were they that they couldn’t even find Jarod when he was literally in their own back yard?  Had they really exhausted all avenues of investigation?  The only option left was to send their pet lab rat into every air duct in the Centre to see if he could sniff out Jarod?  Unacceptable!

            “Broots, please tell me we have some sort of lead – anything – that gets us closer to finding Jarod,” she said in a tone that dared him to answer in any way but the affirmative.

            He looked sick.  “Well, um…” he began, making her grit her teeth against the string of hems and haws she knew were coming. 

            Then his eyes widened.  “Yes!” he exclaimed before falling silent, as if astonished at his own outburst.

            Noticing that Sydney was also intently focused on something behind her, Miss Parker turned around.  She felt her own eyes grow wide with shock.

            Jarod was there, walking right down the center of the concourse.

            More like shuffling, she realized, as she noticed the shackles on Jarod’s hands and feet that caused his hobbling gait.  All that was needed was the orange jumpsuit to make him look exactly like a prisoner.

            Which was what he was, she thought suddenly.  Jarod was a prisoner of the Centre.  She couldn’t say why that realization made her uneasy when it should have made her… not happy, but at least content that everything was the way it should be.  Maybe she’d gotten used to the idea of Jarod being on the loose; she just needed time to adjust to this new – old- reality where he and his genius abilities were kept where they could do the most good.

            Or maybe she still couldn’t accept the fact that Lyle was the one who had caught him.  Her brother was swaggering down the hallway, well aware that everyone in the vicinity was watching him confidently lead the Centre’s most famous acquisition through their midst.  Willie and another Sweeper Miss Parker didn’t recognize followed menacingly on Jarod’s heels, and a smug Brigitte in bright pink patent leather brought up the rear of the procession.  It reminded her uncomfortably of a conquering hero returning to his homeland, triumphantly presenting the plunder from his victorious campaign – in this case, Jarod.

            Miss Parker grudgingly admitted that Lyle’s choice to march Jarod through the main concourse made sense for several reasons.  Other than stroking Lyle’s ego, this venue provided limited opportunities for escape.  Already severely hampered by the cuffs and flanked by four armed guards, Jarod had other obstacles to overcome in this location.  There were several Centre employees nearby, most too in awe of the Pretender to even think of apprehending him should he make a break for it, but there may be one or two foolhardy ones in the crowd who would welcome the chance to levitate several rungs up the corporate ladder by preventing Jarod from fleeing.  Those same innocent bystanders could also be caught in any crossfire, and Lyle knew Jarod would never take that risk.

            But Jarod seemed to be beyond caring what motivated Lyle’s decision.  Dressed in dark gray sweat pants and matching pull-over (not much better than prison orange, in her opinion), he stared at the floor, as if each lurching step took all of his concentration.  His hair was flat and greasy with not a trace of styling gel, and the dark stubble on his upper lip and chin contrasted sharply with the paleness of his face.  He looked terrible, even worse than when she’d seen him last – six months ago when he was recovering from an infected bullet wound.  She wondered just what hell Lyle had already put him through in the one short week he’d been back at the Centre.

            When tears sparked at the corners of her eyes, Miss Parker realized she hadn’t blinked in a long time.  She shifted her gaze for a second, in time to see Sydney step forward.  “Jarod,” he called.

            His former pupil made no sign that he’d heard.  He just kept his head down and obediently followed Lyle to the elevator that led to the sub-levels.  As if on cue, the elevator doors opened, and the group started to file inside.  

            No!  Cursing her momentary paralysis, Miss Parker started to cross the concourse, desperate to reach the elevator.  She was still a step or two behind Sydney, who was moving faster than she’d ever imagined he could.  They didn’t make it in time; the last thing Miss Parker saw as the elevator doors closed was the cocky grin on Lyle’s face.

            “Damn it!” She smacked the door with the heel of her palm then spun around and barked orders to a panting Broots who had just come up behind her.  “Check the surveillance cameras!  Find out which level they got off on.  Now!” she added as Broots just stared at her, slightly dazed.  He jerked his head in assent and hurried off.

            “Sydney, we need to…”  Looking around, she realized he was gone.

            But she was far from alone.  The same people who’d been intently focused on Jarod’s passage through the hallway a moment before were now watching her, silenced by her outburst. 

            “What!” Miss Parker growled to the world at large.  When the various employees scattered to go about their business, she stalked back across the corridor and straight to her office.

            Three hours later Miss Parker did something anyone rarely did in the Centre: she paused outside of an office instead of barging on in.  It was Lyle’s office, and she hesitated before entering, because she really didn’t want to face him.  More precisely, she didn’t want to act – and she meant act – in the manner she knew was needed if she was to be successful in getting him to reveal Jarod’s whereabouts.

            Broots had learned nothing useful from the surveillance camera footage; he hadn’t seen Jarod get off the elevator on any of the sub-levels.  When he’d reported this to her, Miss Parker had sarcastically asked if Jarod and his security detail had somehow peformed a disappearing trick.  Broots pointed out that he’d been unable to hack into the records from the newer cameras; they were password-protected and would take a lot longer to breach.

            Sydney had also been unsuccessful in his efforts to follow Jarod.  He’d taken the stairs to the level where the showers were located – a good idea, Miss Parker had had to admit – but had been barred from the area by a couple of guards.  That meant that Jarod was probably in the vicinity, but Sydney had loitered around a corner down the hall for a couple of hours and had never seen Jarod come out.  Miss Parker wondered about the existence of secret passageways – old and new - in the Centre but kept her suspicions to herself.  In Sydney’s current agitated state, he was likely to start knocking on every wall in the place looking for hollow sounds.  Or worse, expect her to do the same.

            Instead, she’d made a suggestion she was now regretting: she would talk to Lyle, “grudgingly” admit that he’d pulled off quite a feat with his capture of Jarod, and see if she could manipulate him into boasting about how he was keeping Jarod contained.  She’d had no luck with her repeated attempts to wheedle the information out of her father, leaving her to wonder if he knew himself where the Pretender was imprisoned.  It disturbed her to think Lyle was being trusted so completely with the Centre’s greatest asset.

            All the more reason to gain his confidence, in whatever way she could.  Miss Parker took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and pushed open the doors to her brother’s office.

            Lyle and Willie were standing in front of the desk.  “Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for Tony?” Willie was saying in a worried tone.

            Lyle glanced her way when she burst into the room but still took the time to answer the Sweeper.  “No, go ahead, Willie.  You’ll be fine.  I’ll join you shortly.”  He patted him on the shoulder.

            “Whatever you say, Mr. Lyle.”  With a nervous nod at Miss Parker, he strode from the room, pulling the doors shut behind him.

            A few days ago she’d tried to intimidate Willie into telling her where Jarod was, but he’d refused to talk, apparently more afraid of retribution from Lyle than from any implied threat from her.  Yes, her brother was a psychotic killer, but Miss Parker was still irked that he’d developed a more threatening persona than she.

            Well, he didn’t scare her.  She knew just how to deal with her brother.  “That was quite a parade this morning,” she said.

            Lyle smiled and gestured to one of the chairs facing his desk.  “Well, I figured it would be the best way to lay to rest the rumors that have been flying around this place for the past week,” he said, walking behind his desk and settling into his high-backed leather chair.

            Miss Parker took the seat he’d offered. “Yes, it made two things crystal clear: one, Jarod is indeed back in Centre custody and two, you are the person who caught him.”  She leaned back and crossed her legs, knowing that her brown leather mini skirt offered a good look at her long tanned legs (the result of her spa stay a week ago).  Yes, Lyle was her brother, but she knew he still found her attractive.  Even though that thought made her skin crawl, she’d use his slimy tendencies against him if it would help her get the information she needed.  “Nicely done,” she added, offering a saccharine smile.

            Lyle’s eyes gleamed as he took in the compliment . . . and the view of her legs.  Then he leaned back in his own chair, smoothing his crimson tie with his good right hand.  “It was a team effort,” he said with feigned modesty.

            Not her team.  Miss Parker kept the tight smile on her face as she commented, “Frankly, I can’t believe you’ve managed to keep Jarod here this long.”

            “Oh, he’s not going anywhere,” Lyle assured her.

            “Careful, brother.  I wouldn’t get cocky, if I were you.  Jarod has a way of turning any situation to his advantage.”

            “Not this time.”

            “He didn’t look like he was plotting anything this morning,” Miss Parker said slowly, as if loathe to give her brother any more credit.  “In fact, he didn’t look very good at all.  Are you sure his extensive physical in the infirmary didn’t turn up anything?”

            “No, all his tests came back fine.  He’s in good shape,” Lyle said.

            “At least he was.”  She let her smile drop.  “Exactly what have you been doing to Jarod this past week?”

            Lyle’s posture never changed.  He looked completely relaxed as he replied, “I haven’t laid a hand on him.  Jarod’s had the luxury of plenty of quiet time to meditate, go on a vision quest, or whatever else New Age crap he learned during his travels.”

            So he was being held in an isolated section of the Centre; no surprise there.  “And plenty of time to plan his escape,” she pointed out.

            “You just said he didn’t look like he was planning anything when you saw him on the main concourse this morning,” Lyle quickly responded.

            She frowned.  “Well, you had him on a pretty tight leash, I noticed.”

            “The shackles?  A necessary evil, I’m afraid.”  Lyle’s tone indicated regret, but that sentiment didn’t reach his eyes, which were fairly dancing with delight.  “Once Jarod’s proven he can be trusted, we’ll remove the restraints.”

            “Where are you getting your weather forecasts?  I haven’t heard anything about Hell freezing over.”

            Lyle didn’t react to her gibe.  “It may take some time,” he allowed, “but Jarod will eventually accept that he’s here to stay.”  He laced his nine fingers together over his stomach and swiveled his chair slightly from side to side, completely at ease.

            Why was he so damn sure of himself?  A queasy knot started to form in the pit of her stomach as she wondered if Lyle had a legitimate reason to be so smug.

            Just then a loud siren began to sound.  “What the hell is that?” Miss Parker leapt to her feet.

            Amazingly, Lyle maintained his cool demeanor.  “A new perimeter alarm I had installed recently,” he said, leaning front in his chair and tapping some keys on his laptop.

            She headed for the door, her hand automatically going to her back where her gun reassuringly rested in its holster.  When Lyle made no move to follow her, she stopped and turned back in confusion.  “Uh, brother?  Doesn’t that alarm mean your dog has slipped its leash?  Shouldn’t we do something about that?”  The urge to chase after Jarod was strong, but if Lyle would rather sit back and rely on all-brawn-no-brain Sweepers and rent-a-cops to corral the escapee, she wasn’t going to interfere.  Let him hang himself.

            “No need,” Lyle muttered, his eyes narrowing as he studied his computer screen.  The fingers of his gloved left hand beat a muffled staccato rhythm on the desk, the only indication that he wasn’t as relaxed as he tried to appear.  Then the lines in his face smoothed out and his fingers stilled.  “Crisis averted,” he proclaimed.

            Curious as to what could possibly be on his computer that could quell the rising panic he should be feeling, Miss Parker came quickly around the desk to see for herself.  Far from being annoyed, Lyle sat back so she could have an unobstructed view of the monitor.

            What she saw didn’t make sense.  It was feed from a security camera that covered one of the seldom-used side entrances to the building.  Lying on the sidewalk was Jarod, his body racked by what appeared to be convulsions.  “What’s wrong with him?” Miss Parker breathed.

            “As you said, he slipped his leash.”  Lyle smiled at the computer screen.  “He just didn’t know about the invisible one.”

            Miss Parker couldn’t tear her gaze away from the sight of Jarod, in obvious pain, writhing on the ground.  His hands and feet were still cuffed, and the way his back arched and curled spasmodically made him look like an inchworm having an epileptic seizure.  Her own hands balled into fists and her chest grew tight with suppressed fury.  Seemingly oblivious to her growing agitation, Lyle reached out and lazily tapped a button on the keyboard.  The camera zoomed in, giving a clear shot of the agonized expression on Jarod’s face.  His eyes were tightly closed, his lips peeled back from clenched teeth.  There was no sound on the video, but Miss Parker imagined she could hear his moans as he struggled to keep a scream contained.

            She finally had to look away.  She glanced at Lyle and found that sight even more disturbing than the one on the monitor.  Her brother was intently watching Jarod, the brightness of his cold blue eyes and the satisfied smile on his face clearly demonstrating the enjoyment he derived from his victim’s plight.  She felt a chill go through her. 

            Desperate to do something, Miss Parker headed for the door.  Lyle didn’t seem to notice her hasty retreat; he was too enthralled by the scene playing out on his laptop.

            She told herself that her abrupt departure from Lyle’s office was so she could do her job: pursue Jarod.  After all, she hadn’t seen a single Sweeper on that camera feed; presumably Jarod had somehow incapacitated his guards before leaving the building.  That’s why she was taking the stairs at a reckless pace; she needed to apprehend the prisoner before he came out of his strange fit and made good his escape. 

            She burst out of the stairwell just in time to see Jarod being half-dragged, half-carried onto the elevator by Willie, who was holding a bloody handkerchief to his nose with one hand, and one of the new Sweepers, who was limping.  Just before the doors shut, she saw that Jarod was alert and no longer convulsing, although he looked utterly exhausted, his clothes soaked with sweat.  She wasn’t sure if his dull gaze registered her presence as she froze in the hallway and watched the elevator whisk him away again.