A Cure For What Ails Us Part 5
By 10:05, the night sky above the house had grown as black as new coal, and as Parker gazed out the window, trying hard to visualize the outline of trees to the east, she rehearsed over and over in her mind exatly how their next two hours would be played out. She knew there'd be no room for error, that it had to be nothing short of perfect, and that any mistake by either of them could cost them their lives. The thought of that sent a wave of cold nausea through her fatigued body.
"Parker," his voice was soft and his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her toward him.
"Is it time?"
"We have a problem," he replied, as he tightened his grip on her waist, his lips brushing her temple.
"What? She won't help," she turned in his embrace, looking into troubled eyes.
"She's missing. Abducted, earlier this morning."
"Lyle?"
"None other. He even left a calling card."
"He wants me and the baby, you know that, don't you?"
"Well he can't have you. I won't let it come to that. Sydney and Broots will take Benjamin to the Sisters as I had orginally planned. We have no choice, Parker. I also sent a message via the web for my father, he's to contact Syd at the convent."
"And what am I to do?"
"We set are own little pretend for Lyle. That is if you trust in yourself enough to do it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice. You can go with Sydney and Broots and take care of our son."
"I'm not running away. Not anymore." She tenderly brushed her lips against his, then pulled away slightly," Let's go tell our son goodbye, for the time being."
It was dark around her, and the air felt wet. There was a dank odor that was unpleasant.Shivering and cold, she tried to move, only to find herself handcuffed to an iron wrought bed. She shifted her body to look about, and winced in pain. All her muscles were cramped and sore-her arms, her legs, her chest, everywhere. Her neck hurt when she turned it. Rachel was surprised to find that once her eyes adjusted, she could see quite well. She felt on edge, straining to hear the slightest sound. Footsteps came close, then stopped. She held her breath. The heavy wooden door opened a crack.
"Good, you're awake," the man said.
"Who are you?" her voice was cracked and dry from not speaking.
"The GameMaster. Do you like to play games, Rachel? I do."
"Games, what game?"
"Yes, games. Namely, my game, in which you're the pawn."
A sudden flash of dawning crossed Rachel's face as she continued to look at her captor's face. His blue eyes taking on a frenzied look, his hand reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek. Her skin crawled, replused by his touch.
"You killed them, why?"
"Like I said its a game. A game I intend to win."
"You said I was the pawn, for what purpose."
"Knights in shining armor. Do you believe in fairy tales, Rachel?" his hand continued to caress her cheek," My sister does, believe in knights, that is. Her white knight goes by the name of Jarod. I see that you recognize the name. Did you know that she's been in love with him and he her from the moment they first met. How about you? In love with him too? How sad that his heart belongs her, but he can't resist rescuing those in danger."
Rachel strained to pull herself up from the bed only to be hampered by the handcuffs, her own eyes blazing with anger.
"Fiesty one, aren't we?" Lyle smiled," This should be fun." His hand reached behind her head and gripped her hair tighly in his gloved hand, his lips coming ever so close to hers.
Rachel turned her head and his lips caught the side of her cheek. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut yet the images of her captor torturing and killing innocent woman invaded her mind. No matter how hard she tried to shut out the assault, the images came faster and faster until one single picture flashed in front of her.
"He'll stop you," she turned her eyes to face him.
"Then he'll die, along with his lady fair," the blue eyes flashed defiantly.
"Then what's the point of the game, if its to kill him, them."
"They have something I want. No leet me amend that, something I need to survive." He straightened up and headed for the heavy wooden door.
"What could they possibly have that you need to survive?" Rachel asked.
"The future, their son," he replied a feeling of satisfaction crossing his brow as he left her to stunned to reply. She could hear his laughter as he closed the door, a feeling of dread creeping into her soul. He was using her as the pawn to lure them into the opening, so he could take their child. Jarod's child with another. That very thought left her empty.
No matter what Miss Parker does to keep them at bay, the tears continue to fall. The emptiness in her heart was a pain too much to bear. Nothing in her life compared to having to leave her son.
"You know I've been with him every day since he was born," she says quietly. "Even if it was just for a few minutes between meetings. I'd make the time to go to the nursery to see him. To sit with him. To rock him to sleep." More tears. But she doesn't even bother to wipe them anymore.
"Promise me this is going to work. Promise I'll make it home to see my baby again," she whispers in the darkness. Jarod's eyes stay focused steadily on the road ahead and after a moment's hesitation, he answers her.
"You know I can't do that, Parker," he sighs, his own tears starting to blur his vision. "Believe me, I've simmed every possible outcome and most of them aren't . . . well, let's just say that it doesn't look good. Your brother is a sick man. And he's desperate. The odds are stacked against us. But I can promise you this. I don't care how slim our chances. I'd do anything to protect our son. Even if it costs my own life."
She knows he's right. But for some reason, the tears finally stop at that realization. Because at that moment she understood that there was something she needed more than to grieve. Something she needed from him.
"Jarod, pull the car over," she orders gently. She places her hand on top of his.
"Parker?" he asks, suddenly confused at her request.
"Please, Jarod," she begs again. "This may be our last chance." The car comes to a stop and she moves her hand to gently stroke his cheek. "There are things I need you to know. Things I need to say to you. And I don't know how else to say them . . . other than by doing this." She licks her lips and slowly traces his mouth with her eyes. A second later, her own mouth is pressed to his in a desperate attempt to convey how she feels.
Breaking the kiss, he nestled his chin in the hollow of her shoulder moving his lips along her hair, brushing it back from her jaw.
"I think-"
"What?" she said, softly, as he held her close.
He kissed her mouth, her cool lips soft beneath his, a small tremor in the corners.
"Let's go back to the house, Parker."
She nodded, and stayed cradled in his arm as he started the car and headed back to the house nestled deep in the woods. She looked over at him and a sudden thought entered her head. How long had she loved him? She didn't know, it was not important. She knew it now with a certainty so powerful it swept her up and she felt the absolute joy of loving him before it was pushed aside by despair. Impulsively she put her hand up and touched his face, the high cheekbones and the rough stubble on his skin, the little nerve below his eyes that jumpd as her finger accidently pressed it.
The car turned into the drive and within minutes was safely hidden from prying eyes in the garage. Holding the passenger side door open, he watched as she stepped out of the car. He pulled her to him and kissed her forehead, the corners of her eyes, the tip of her nose. Trembling, she leaned back against his arm, and he drew a line of small kisses along her forehead and down her cheek.
"God, how I love you," she whispered, the words finally freed, he wanted to lift her up in his arms but she shook her head. They walked to the bedroom and undressed each other, hurrying, touching the skin they bared, exploring it like a new discovery to make sure it was real.
Enclosed in his arms, her face against his chest, she heard his heartbeat and felt his lips touch her hair. She laughed a low, contented laugh, moving her lips against his chest, his hands moving over her slender form. Their lips spoke against each other, murmuring, laughing, making small wordless sounds, while their eyes met. They were strong in what they could give each other; they were both vulnerable, without shame, in what they needed from each other
"Do you know," Jarod said ruefully, "reluctant as I am to admit it---"
"--You're hungry," Parker finished, laughing,"well, come on. Let's see what we can find."
She opened her eyes. Jarod was sleeping on his side, his face a few inches from hers. She gazed at him. She placed a hand on his cheek and watched as his eyes opened. He saw the love in her unguarded face, he reached out to take her in his arms, knowing full well that the hardest part was yet to come.
"It's time to get ready," he whispered.
"I know."
Two hours later, Jarod and Miss Parker are sitting outside of FBI Headquarters, waiting patiently and watching carefully as the first of the staff begins to arrive. Finally Jarod notices the person he's been waiting for pulling into the parking garage. He signals to Miss Parker to stay in the car until he can talk to his contact.
"George," Jarod says quickly, looking around to make sure they were alone.
"Jarod?" the man is surprised to see him. He's breezed in and out of their lives for the past year or two. And no matter how much he tried to dig, he couldn't find out anything about this elusive man's past. "What are you doing here, man?" He sticks his hand out to shake Jarod's.
"We need your help," Jarod starts. He looks to the car and motions for Miss Parker to join him.
"How can I help? Why didn't you go to Rachel?" George smiles hesitantly at the beautiful woman now standing by Jarod's side and notices a small look of irritation cross her face at the mention of Rachel. But she soon covers it with a sincere concern.
"Because she's part of the problem," Jarod says softly. He looks around again nervously. "You think we can take this inside? We're going to need Bailey and Grace's help too."
"Sure," George nods. He locks his car and leads them up the stairs. He had a bad feeling that something was wrong. Rachel must be in some kind of trouble. That was why Jarod showed up the last time - to help her. But the look on Jarod's face was starting to worry him. Things must be really bad now. "Where's Rachel?" he whispers as they reach the top of the stairs, dreading the answer he knows Jarod will give him.
"I only want to explain this once. Let's go find Bailey and Grace and we'll tell you the whole story," Jarod promises.
George, Jarod and Miss Parker walked into the office that belonged to Bailey Malone and find not only the man, himself, but Grace and John speaking in hushed tones.
"Bailey?" George spoke softly, and the trio watched as heads turned.
Bailey looked passed his computer specialist to the tall man and striking brunette, he composed himself, and greeted Jarod with a firm handshake, yet a look of distrust crossed his craggy features.
"I should have realized that you'd show up," Bailey said, "You seem to have a habit of arriving when my agents are in trouble."
"Trouble?" George croaked, harshly.
"I tried to call you, George," Grace said.
"Rachel was right about the supposed suspect. He wasn't responsible for the killings," John spat, his eyes narrowed briefly as they looked at Jarod.
"The killer is a man named Lyle," Miss Parker replied caustically," A man that's got no soul or concscience."
"And you know this, how, Miss. . . .?" Bailey inquired of the woman.
"Parker. I see that the name rings a bell with you, Mr. Malone."
"Bailey?" John asked.
"In good time, John," Bailey said," I need to know why first."
"Why he went after Rachel, because she and I have a history together," Jarod spoke, his tone gentle, his hand taking hold of Parker.
"Why would that concern this Lyle?" John asked, his eyes never leaving the handclasp that the two were sharing.
"Lyle knows that Jarod will help those in need, especially friends," Parker replied, her eyes glistening.
"How do you know that Lyle has Rachel?" Bailey walked around from his desk, a manilla folder in his hand," Other than your say so, what proof do you have to offer?"
Jarod reached inside his leather coat pocket and removed a picture, and held it up for the rest of the room to see.
"That's Lyle's right arm," Miss Parker stated, "And from the expressions on your faces, I see that you recognize the tattoo. The man is a psycho, believe me, the things that he's done for power, this is nothing. He doesn't want to kill your agent, Mr. Malone, only to lure Jarod and I out into the open."
"What is it about you two that would cause this man to go to these lengths?" Grace asked.
"Too numerous to list, but the main reason is a seven month old little boy named Benjamin," Jarod turned and looked at Parker, his grip on her hand breaking so that he could wrap it around her waist.
"A child?"
"Not just any child, MR. MALONE," Parker's voice almost cracked but she maintained that edge she needed," Our son."
******
Lyle's hideout
"Time to wake up, Sunshine." Rachel's eyes blink open at the sound of the deep voice in her ears. She slowly lifts her head and notices that the rest of her body is also free to move. She isn't handcuffed to the bed anymore. In fact, she wasn't even in that dark, damp cell anymore. This room was brighter and warmer. The bed was softer and more comfortable. Before she could fully awaken and remember where she was, she lets out a soft, contented sigh, eliciting a chuckle from her captor. Captor? She sits straight up at that thought, suddenly remembering the situation.
"What am I doing here?" her voice crackles. She looks around to see who was speaking to her, but couldn't see anyone.
"Would you prefer the cellar? I thought you might want to be a little more comfortable," Lyle says. He smiles at the confused look on her face. He could see her from behind the double sided mirror, but she was searching the room frantically for him. Her eyes finally land on the mirror over the dresser. She gets off the bed in a flash and runs to the mirror, banging her fists against it.
"Let me out of here," she screams. "I know you're back there."
"Settle down," he says sternly. "We can't have you hurting yourself." He waits for her to obey before he continues with the rest of his commands. "The bathroom is the door to the left. There are clothes laid out for you. Shower and change. Breakfast will be ready soon."
Through the wall, she can hear him walking away. And while a small part of her is grateful for the change in accommodations, an even bigger part of her reminds her that she is being held against her will by a psychotic serial killer. Albeit a very handsome psychotic killer (if memory serves her correctly) who's seemed to have grown impeccable manners overnight. But a killer nonetheless. A killer who plans on using her to destroy innocent lives...his own sister and her baby. Jarod's child, she sadly remembers.
"What am I going to do?" she says aloud. "How am I going to get out of here?" For lack of a plan at the moment, she decides to obey her surprisingly charming captor. Besides, a shower sounds really good right about now.
******
VCTF Building
"He sounds like slime," John retorted.
"He is, but he doesn't leave a trail," Jarod replied.
" So let me get this straight," said Bailey,"This Lyle, pretends to be your brother so that he can ingratiate himself into the Centre, and now that he's messed up, the only way to regain his postion is to kidnap one of my agents to draw you two out in the open."
Parker nodded.
Bailey touched at his tie thoughtfully, then stood up. He went across to the window and looked down at the traffic crawling south. Outside the morning was cooking up to a sticky ninety degrees.
"Where is your son?"
"He's safe with friends and family," Jarod said eventually.
Bailey's eyebrows popped up.
There was a long silence.
The ringing of the phone on Bailey's desk broke the silence. Walking to the desk, he grabbed for the receiver, his voice gruff, his eyes widening as he signalled for George to track the call.
"Malone, here."
"How nice! Mr. Lyle."
"Mr. Lyle, what can I or the VCTF do for you?" Bailey jabbed rather harshly at the speaker phone button and soon the room echoed with Lyle's voice.
"One of your agents has gone missing. Pretty red-head."
"You son-of-a-b****," John started, but Jarod placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
"Talk!"
"Jarod, any clue as to his whereabouts?"
"Who?"
"Don't bullshit me, Mr. Malone. He's worked with you before and even tried to help Agent Burke out of a bit of a jam a while back. She almost ended up behind bars, for murder. She didn't though, did she, thanks to me."
An evil laugh echoed across the line," I know that you are trying to track the call, don't bother. I'll call again and perhaps by then you will have some idea where to find Jarod." The line went dead.
Lyle had learned many things in his life. from his adopted parents and his teachers and his mentor from the Centre, but one lesson he'd yet to learn was the value of patience, at least as it applied to his irritation with the pretender and his sister. That didn't keep him from being impetous, however.
He continued to lay out the silverware listening for the moment the water from the shower stopped. A quick glance over the table, making a mental note. . . .bacon, eggs, toast and hash-brown potatoes, plus Colombian coffee. The sound of nothing caught his attention, so he settled in to the chair that faced the bathroom door waiting for his pretty little captive to emerge. It was time to get down to business. That business being Jarod and his whereabouts.
The door to the bathroom opened, revealing a freshly showered Rachel, dressed in a plain white blouse and pair of black jeans. The aroma of coffee assailed her nostrils, yet the sight of her captor sitting comfortablely at a table set for two rather intimidating.
"I won't help you," her blue eyes staring back at his," I won't let you kill either of them. So go to hell, Mr. Gamemaster."
Fiery was all that went through his head, as a smile and raised eyebrow stared back at the profiler.
"Why don't you have a seat," he offers, the amused smirk still on his face. "Your breakfast is starting to get cold."
"I'm not hungry," she says defiantly, just as her growling stomach gives her away. She winces slightly and frowns at the betrayal before sitting down across from her captor. "Do I get to at least know your name? Or am I supposed to just call you whatever expletives come to my head first?"
"Beautiful. Smart. And a sense of humor," Lyle laughs. "But I can't imagine such words coming from such a lovely mouth. My name is Lyle." He holds out a gloved hand for her to shake. "Under the circumstances, I think I can honestly say that the pleasure is all mine."
"You got that right," she mutters under her breath, starting to eat her breakfast, trying to ignore the slight quickening of her pulse at the intense way he was staring at her. Why do the charming ones always have to be psychotic she wonders.
Parker sat crossed legged in the chair in the office Bailey allocated to her and Jarod, dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt and barefoot. On the floor next to her was an overflowing stack of documents, spread out on the desk were file folders, papers, photographs, and letters, the contents of flattened cardboard storage boxes that leaned against the wall. She was bent over a worn, leather-bound diary with little blue flags sticking out of the margins, deeply absorbed in what she was reading, pencil rested lightly in her hand, and a notebook with her own fresh jottings was open at her knee. he was surprised to see a light slipping through a crack beneath the office door. He knocked once and opened it.
His eyes caught the jeans tapered at the ankle, exposing smooth tan skin. She was full of mysterious energy. Unique. He couldn't imagine loving her more.
She lifted her eyes.
"Hi, baby," she said.
"You ready to take a break, Parker. You've been reading those files for hours," Jarod said, as he place a cup of coffee on the desk next to her.
"I know, but since you and Bailey went to all the trouble of getting anything that had to do with Lyle and Rachel from the FBI and the Centre, I thought that maybe there's something in here that would help."
"And?" he took the diary out her hands, placing it on top of the desk.
"I'm not sure, there something here in her diary that makes me wonder if Rachel meet Lyle before, only under a different name. He's had more identities than you." she tried to force a smile.
"I have a suprise for you."
"You know I hate surprises, but what?"
"Come on, and be sure to thank George, if it wasn't for him."
He grabbed her hand and dragged her out into the main office, only to find George sitting at his computer terminal, a smile on his features.
"It's all set. Ready." The huge computer screen in front light up and Parker saw a young woman with dark hair, the same color eyes as the man behind her, but it was the small child that was sitting on her lap that demanded her full attention.
"Benjamin," Parker whispered, then turned to Jarod," They're safe, the three of them."
"Four," the voice came from the screen," Debbie's with us as well. It's good to see you, big brother."
"Em."
Parker stared from screen to the man that held her wrapped on his arms, waiting and wondering.
"Then Dad received my letter?" Jarod asked.
"Yes, it was the second thing that Sydney gave to Dad."
"The second," Jarod cocked his head, slightly.
"Breaking the news about this little guy, here, took top priority," Emily smiled as she lifted Benjamin toward the video camera.
"Momma," he said, his fingers trying to touch her.
"How's my big boy?" Parker spoke softly, her hand touching the screen, which ellicted a drooly smile from their son.
"He's been an angel, Miss Parker, but he misses both of you terribly. He's due for his nap soon."
"Please just a little longer. Jarod?" Parker looked at him, pleading with her eyes.
"We'll establish the link early in the morning, but right now I need to speak to my father. I know how much this hurts, baby, believe me, I do, but . . . " he pulled her closer to him, her tears soaking his shirt.
" How early?" she looked up into his eyes with tear streaked cheeks.
"My grandson's up with the sun, Miss Parker and so am I," the deep voice on the screen replied to the question," Good to see you, son, just wish the circumstances were better."
"Same here, Dad. Have you been able to do what I asked?"
"Jakob, Ethan and Broots have been very busy getting everything ready. How are things going on your end, any progress finding Lyle and that missing agent?"
"He called, but Parker, here thinks that Rachel may have met Lyle under a different name, something that she mentioned in one of her old journals."
"Really? Care to enlighten me, Miss Parker."
"When she was D.A., there was an assault and attempted murder case involving a young Asian girl named Liane. The suspect, Gideon Warren, vanished and by the description that Agent Burke gave in her journal after interviewing him, there are some coincidences, that can't be denied. I think that Agent Malone should pursue the matter and I want Broots to check the Centre's mainframe.
"Done. I went to the Cabins-O-Love, like you asked and hit the jackpot, Jarod. You were right, he was in such a hurry, he left everything behind, I'll look through it and see if there's anything in there about this Gideon Warren."
"Thanks, Dad. We'll talk in the morning. Bye."
"Major Charles?"
"Yes, Miss Parker. Give Benjamin a kiss for me and tell him. . . . I love him, please."
"My pleasure, my dear. Hopefully this will be over soon, and then you can be reunited." With that said the link was broken and Parker cling to Jarod for a few moments, then the two of them went in search of Malone.
They stopped quickly in the office that Parker had recently occupied, so that she could retrieve the journal that belonged to Rachel. It was seven in the evening, some twelve hours since they had heard from Lyle. Just as Parker and Jarod entered Bailey's office, the phone rang. The caller ID says PRIVATE CALL, and grabs for it, says," Hello," and gets no response.
"Mr. Lyle?" Bailey activiates the speaker phone.
"Very perceptive, Mr. Malone."
That smooth, silky voice is his, all right.
"So, what can I do for you, Mr. Lyle."
"I told you, Jarod."
"We can't seem to locate him," Bailey holds up his hand to silence the pretender," Last bit of information we get is that he was killed out on the West Coast."
"I know about that little scam of his, if you can't find him, then I suggest you start looking for a leggy burnette with an infant. Her name's Miss Parker."
"What do I get in return?"
"Bailey, this is bullshit," John Gray snaps, "He's a goddamn chicken."
"Ahhh, Mr. Gray, " Lyle surpresses the urge to laugh," Still hotheaded as every."
"Look, Mr. Lyle let me at least talk to Agent Burke." A direct demand! He didn't mean to be so blunt, yet its hard second-guessing this man.
"Sure, why not, I still have about thirty seconds before I terminate the call."
"Bailey," the voice is soft and husky,"
"I'm fine, a little worn out but gettin on fine."
"You see, Mr. Malone, your precious little agent here is fine. If you want to see her again, you now who I want in trade. I'll call tomorrow. Good bye."
Bailey looked up at Jarod and Parker, his hand rubbing the side of his temple, and then he glanced at George.
"Anything?" George shook his head no.
"A little worn out but gettin on fine," Parker murmured to herself, her eyes taking in the small leather worn journal in her hands.
"Parker?" Jarod looks at her, quizzically.
"Almost as good as your opposite polarities attract, wonder-boy," she smiled, her hand reaching to touch his shoulder," She recognizes him."
"What?" the voices of Malone and Gray echo in the glassed enclosed room.
"Agent Burke meet Lyle some years ago, he was calling himself Gideon Warren, then." Parker held out the open journal for Bailey."She said worn out and gettin on, she knew that you'd look into past cases, just in case."
"Parker and I, we were on our way here to tell you, Bailey."
"George, everything on one Gideon Warren, stat."
"Right on it, Bailey."
Writers:
Michele
Trish
Shannon
Nicky
Michele
Trish
Nicky
Michele
Nicky
Trish
Shannon
Nicky
Michele
Trish
Shannon