Shaddyr's Eclectic Collection > Pretender Fanfiction > Liz Shelbourne > Brick by Brick
Brick by Brick
The sleigh driver pulled up near the crest of the hill that overlooked the pond Hannah had taken Jarod and Sandy to the week before. Now however, the ground was blanketed with snow and the three pine trees that stood to one side twinkled with tiny lights, brilliant against the clear moonless sky. The gentle sigh of the runners on the snow ceased and the horse stomped its hoof playfully.
Jarod carefully pulled the blanket off their laps and climbed to the ground, turning to lift Caitlin out and lend a hand to her mother. Carrying the little girl, he walked up what looked like a path in the snow, up to the top and between the glittering pines. He set her down on a flattened patch of snow in front of him, Hannah stood nearby. They looked beautiful in the long coats, the fur of the hoods framing each of the faces. He gazed at them both, trying to capture the moment in his memory, then his hand reached down into the pocket of his coat.
Hannah’s heart skipped a beat.
"Caitlin. Hannah. I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but in that time, you’ve become the most important things in my life. Before I knew you, I was searching for a family I couldn’t remember and living a life that changed daily. It seems that all my life I’ve been looking for some kind of a home, a place where people knew who I was, who I really was.
"When I met the two of you, I started to see what a family could be like, and for a while it made me all the more determined to find my own. Then I got to know you better, and I fell in love with you, with you both. Finding my parents, finding my sister, wasn’t quite as urgent as it had been. I still want to find them, I think I need to, but right now, right here, I have my family.
"I don’t have much to offer you, not even a last name. I can’t say whether I will be here next year or even next month. I can only offer a future of uncertainty, except for one thing. I can promise you that I will love you for the rest of my life."
He lowered himself to one knee in the snow and looked up Hannah. "I’ve read that this is how this is done, but tell me if I mess it up." She laughed, brushing away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks.
He picked a sparkling gold and diamond band from his pocket and contemplated it, then gazed up at her again. He breathed deeply. "Hannah Coneely, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
All she could do was nod. She did not trust her voice, but her shining eyes conveyed her answer quite well.
Jarod turned toward the younger girl as he pulled out another ring, a tiny version of the first. "Miss Caitlin Coneely, would you do me the honor of becoming my daughter?"
She giggled at his solemnity, then looked up at her mother. Receiving a reassuring nod, she clasped her mittened hands together under her chin. "Yes."
Hannah looked at Jarod questioningly as he stood up. "Aren’t you supposed to put the rings on our fingers?"
"These aren’t engagement rings," he explained. "They’re wedding bands. That’s what I have to ask you now.
"I know that there is no court in the land that would marry us because of who I am, or rather who I am not. I also know that it’s not the legal part of marriage that you care about. Hannah, I know how much your faith matters to you, what a church wedding really means. I wish I could give you that, I can’t, but if I told you that there was a way that we could be married before God, would you do it, would you marry me right here, right now?"
This time Hannah found her voice, it was strong with certainty. "Yes, right here, right now."
Jarod motioned for them to wait and ran off toward a dark shape that Hannah now recognized as a car. A figure emerged and walked back with Jarod.
Caitlin was the first to recognize him. "Father Paul." She ran across the snow into his arms.
"Hi, sweetheart," greeted her as he lifted her into his arms. "Merry Christmas. Last time I saw you, you were asleep at church."
She hugged him around the neck as he walked over the snow to where her mother stood. "Hello, Hannah."
"Hello, Paul. I didn’t expect to see you today."
He shrugged. "I did. Jarod and I have been talking almost as much as you and I have recently. He’s a very determined man. Do you understand what he has in mind?"
"I think so."
"I can’t marry you two, at least not in the eyes of the Church. What we’ve come up with is something different, but it would be still just as binding. In the eyes of God, you will be man and wife, forever and ever, till death do you part. You understand this?"
"Yes."
"Jarod has explained some of his circumstances to me, so I understand that there is a chance, a great chance, that at sometime in the future, he will be taken away from you. This will not release you from the vows you take tonight, no matter how long he may be gone. Are you willing to accept this?"
She never took her gaze from Jarod’s. "Yes, I am."
"Okay, then let’s do it. There’s no script for this one, so we’ll have to make it up as we go." He put the child down and moved her between the two adults. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a worn travelling bible.
"My dear friends, we are gathered here this evening on the joyous occasion of our Lord’s birth, in the sight of God and His creation, to bring you together as a family. Just as God sought a human family for His only Son, we pray that you three may love, strengthen and nurture each other as father, mother and child. As so, understanding this great gift and its awesome responsibility, Jarod, I would like you to tell Hannah and Caitlin what this means to you.
Jarod turned and crouched until he was at the same level as the little girl in front of him. "My dearest Caitlin, you are everything that a father could want in a child. You are loving and bright and full of fun. I promise to you that I will always try to be the best father I can be. I will cherish you and protect you and give you anything that you need. If it happens that I can’t be with you all the time, I want you to know that you will always be in my thoughts and in my heart, and I will love you forever."
He stood and turned to her mother. "Hannah, you’ve shown me parts of life I had only dreamed of, only read of in books. When I’m with you, I feel complete, I know myself and what I am. Without you, I am merely a Pretender. Tonight I would like to swear to you that we will always be happy and together, but I can’t. I can only offer to you the same things that I promise your daughter. I will love you and protect you from harm, and provide for you as much as you need or want and no matter where I may be, I will forever be your husband, your lover and your friend."
The priest motioned to Hannah to begin. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her glove and laughed. "You’ve taken all the good words, you know."
Jarod reached over to brush a lingering tear from the side of her chin. "Sorry."
"Anyway," she started, her voice shaky. "I guess I believe that God brought us together, in His usual backhanded way. I’m just glad neither of us was too stubborn to see what He had in mind. Caitlin and I have been alone for a long time now, and I was starting to think that that was okay, that that was the way my life was supposed to turn out. Then you came along. You challenged me, you hurt me, and you loved me, but most of all, you forced me to live again, really live, with all the joy and pain that goes along with it. You didn’t complete me, you fixed me. How can I ever repay you for that? I owe you my life, not just the heartbeats and the breathing, but the laughter and the tears. So I offer to you my today, each and every day, for that is all we ever have.
"You see, I know who you are. You are Jarod, and I will always love you."
Caitlin had been watching the adults without really understanding what was going on, but she knew it was something special. She pulled at Jarod’s pants leg until her bent down to pick her up.
"Um, Jarod," she asked hesitantly. "Are you really going to be my daddy?"
"Yes I am, sweetheart."
She grinned broadly and rewarded him with a hug.
The priest cleared his throat, not only to gain their attention. "Do you have a ring?"
Two glittering circles dropped onto the pages of the open Bible, he blessed them and handed them back. "You may place them on their left hands."
Still holding the little girl, Jarod pulled off her mitten and slipped the tiny ring onto her finger, then kissed her gently on the cheek and put her down near the priest.
Hannah could see his hand trembling as he waited for her to pull off her glove, then noticed that her hand was shaking too. She looked at the simple gold band that encircled her ring finger, the pattern worn off from years of wear. The only time she had taken the ring off was when she had been in the hospital to deliver Caitlin. Since Scott’s death, it had never been removed.
Until now. She carefully twisted the band over her knuckle, grateful that that the cold had not swollen her fingers. She stretched out her hand and watched as Jarod placed his sparkling band where Scott’s had been.
She gazed at the simple band she held in her fingertips, then at Jarod. "It’s all I have to give you."
He shook his head. "I can’t take that away from you. Give it Caitlin when she’s older."
"No," she answered. "You give to her when she’s older, then she can have something from both her fathers. Until then, will you wear it for me?"
He took the ring from her and slid it onto the smallest finger of his left hand.
"Now, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," the priest intoned, "I pronounce you husband and wife and family, in the eyes of God. You may kiss the bride."
It was late when the finally got back home. On the ride back to her parents’ house, they had decided to tell her family only that they were engaged. Anything to the contrary that Caitlin let slip would probable be passed off as innocent exaggeration.
Hannah’s parents were delighted, if surprised at their announcement. Her sister was, as she stated, "supremely jealous." Caitlin eagerly showed off her ring to her cousins while her grandparents welcomed Jarod into the family.
The half-hour drive back was comfortably quiet. Caitlin fell asleep almost before they had reached the road, Jarod watched her in the rear-view mirror, a tiny angel in velvet and fur, now his daughter.
Once again, he carried her into the apartment, as Hannah followed with boxes and bags. Taking the sleeping child from him, she motioned wordlessly to the Christmas tree and carried her to her room.
Jarod turned the tree lights on and looked it over. Here were the paper snowflakes he and Caitlin had cut out, like the ones he had made as a child at the Centre. Over there was a tiny felt stocking that she had made at day-care, with her name in glitter on the front. Wound all around was the paper circle chain the three of them had made together, going for a "world record" that ended when they ran out of colored paper at seven feet. At the very top was a cherubic angel, dressed in burgundy velvet just like Caitlin.
Sitting on the floor, he loosened his tie and began arranging the new additions under the tree. His own gifts to Caitlin held up well in comparison to those from her family. Although, to him, money was not a barrier, he understood Hannah’s pride and had not wanted to offend her. The packages he had placed under the tree early this morning had not been excessive or expensive; had she had the funds, he was sure Hannah would have bought many of the same. He pulled out the empty box that had previously held a simple but cuddly baby doll. Caitlin had made him so happy when she insisted on taking the doll along for her nap.
Only on one gift had he allowed himself to splurge. The train had been an obvious choice, this one a little more ‘kid-friendly’ than the one at her grandparents’ home. He was tempted to start it up now, but decided against it.
Jarod’s heart betrayed his feelings. Hannah had been too long putting Caitlin to bed. In her absence he had been using the tree and the gifts to keep his mind occupied so that he would not think, but it wasn’t working. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his head felt light. He was nervous. When Hannah came back, they would be alone for the first time as man and wife. What should he do? He was determined to approach this as he had the first time he had been with a woman, offering himself in total honesty. There would be no pretending, no acting, no taking his cues from books and movies.
She walked noiselessly into the room behind him; he sensed rather than heard her. The lights from the tree glowed softly against the pale pink of the simple silk gown and her creamy skin. She had loosened her hair so that it fell across her bare shoulders and framed her face gracefully. Her eyes sparkled more than usual, he was not sure if it was from the lights or a thin veil of tears, but her expression was warm and soft.
He was transfixed. This beautiful woman, strong, loyal, compassionate and tender, was his wife! Everything that the Centre had tried to take away from him, his family, his identity, his freedom, he had found here with her. It seemed impossible that he would ever be able to fully express his love for her.
Delicately lifting the hem of her gown, she knelt on the rug in front of him. Her hand brushed the side of his face. "I love you."
It was there in her eyes. She understood his feelings, his fears, and had some of her own. But they didn’t matter now. They were together for tonight.
Jared walked out of the bedroom, his shirt open and his feet bare as he moved toward the kitchen. He came up behind Hannah and reached around her waist with one hand, the other grabbing a piece of the toast she had just finished buttering. "Good morning, wife."
"Hey, that was for breakfast!"
She could feel the warmth from his skin against her back, the wetness of his hair against her cheek as he leaned around to kiss her. They had developed a comfortable intimacy in the last two weeks.
"I know, that’s why I’m eating it. I want to get to the office."
"It’s Saturday! The only one who will be there is Arthur, and he’s obsessive."
Jarod shoved the last of the toast in his mouth and reached for a tall glass next to her. " I know, I know, but there’s something I want to look at, something that’s been stewing in my head for a while. I finally figured out what it might be."
"You look psyched about something."
He poured milk into the glass, then looked up at her solemnly. "It could be very important. I don’t want to go into it now, but I’ll explain later. Will you be home?"
"I have a little shopping to do, but we shouldn’t be long."
He put down the now empty glass and reached over to touch her cheek. "You know how much I love you, don’t you?"
Hannah reached her hands under the open sides of his shirt and twined her arms around his waist, then snuggled up against the bareness of his chest as his strong arms enveloped her. "Almost as much as Caitlin and I love you."
He kissed the top of her head and gently pulled her arms away. "I have to get going, or I’ll never leave."
A few minutes later, he kissed them both as they sat at the table and left toting his silver case.
Jarod arrived at ACA to find every office deserted, except for Arthur’s. He rapped gently on the older man’s door and let himself in to a welcoming call.
"What’s a young man like you doing at work on a Saturday?" his boss questioned. "I can understand my being here, I own the place, but you should be out doing something with that beautiful fiancée of yours, not holed up in a musty old office."
"Actually, I was here to ask a favor. I was wondering if I might take a look at the plans for the office building that Hannah designed, the one where the accident occurred. I’d like to check out a few details if I might."
Arthur looked at him warily. "I’m not sure I like this, Jarod. That project is an awfully painful subject around here, I’d rather we just put it behind us and move on."
"I understand and I wouldn’t ask unless it was important. But I’ve been putting together a couple of thoughts that have been rolling around in the back of my head and if I’m right, it could be significant, to you and to Hannah."
The older man shook his head as he walked over to the oversize filing cabinet nestled into one corner of the room, but he nonetheless opened up the bottom drawer and removed a stack of blueprints. He loosely rolled them and handed them to Jarod. "If you find what you’re looking for please tell me, otherwise, I’d rather we not speak of the matter anymore."
Jarod thanked him and walked back to his own office, closing the door behind him and setting his silver case on the desk. He spread the roll of prints out on top of the drafting table, covering up the project he had been working on.
Sitting at his desk, he opened the case and inserted one of the shining prismatic disks. Almost instantly, the black and white picture of himself as a young teenager appeared on the screen. He saw himself building a miniature suspension bridge, out of dry spaghetti.
Piece by slender piece, the boy on the screen formed the arch of the bridge, a practical demonstration of the engineering concepts he had been learning. A younger Sydney coached from off-screen, encouraging him to build higher, to stretch the limits of his knowledge and his patience. When finally he had achieved a complete structure, four feet wide and at least two tall, he added the weight, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred pounds hanging from a hook suspended on the bridge, and yet the fragile-looking structure held. He had been overjoyed. Then Sydney had given him one last challenge: make it wider. All through the rest of the day and into the night Jarod had worked on the problem. Page after page of notes and computations, lying awake on his bed, he had pondered until by the next morning he was sure that he had a solution. Another four hours of work, another box of pasta and a new structure stood where the old had, now longer by another foot, the angle of the arch decreased by twenty percent.
On the screen, Sydney complimented him on his ability, and offered the weights. Once again he suspended the iron disks, adding them up to one hundred pounds, then two hundred. Then, without warning, the bridge flexed, strained and broke violently into hundreds of tiny pieces. The young boy watched in horror as the labor of two days cascaded onto the floor.
"What was it Sydney? I had everything worked out, I added more material, it should have been just as strong as the other one! What did I do wrong?"
Sydney’s gentle voice came through the speakers. "It is not the amount of material you add, but the arch which makes the structure strong."
Jarod sat back in the chair behind his desk, his fingertips steepled in front of him as he contemplated the simulation. Could it really be that simple, merely the wrong arch? Or possibly just a single number, entered into the computer incorrectly, that had eventually caused a man’s death? He closed the silver case and flicked the switch on the monitor on the desk.
While the computer came on line, he walked over to the drafting table and the blueprints on it. He had spent the last few weeks surreptitiously studying Hannah’s past designs. Her understanding of architecture was advanced, effortlessly combining engineering and art. It pained him to think that she would never be able to exercise her talents again. As he had considered her work further, it bothered him more and more that one of her designs would have included so tragic a flaw that it would have collapsed during construction; it did not concur with the meticulous work he had seen from her.
The papers before him were the actual prints that had been entered in the court case against her, the blueprints that had been used by the contractor at the construction site. They were creased and ripped around the edges, and notated at the bottom with the court exhibit numbers. He paged through them slowly. The building had been simple, a four story collection of offices faced with blue-gray glass and fronted by an atrium. It was the arched glass ceiling of the atrium area that had collapsed, killing Jack Dawson.
Jarod scanned the draft detailing the atrium. The curved glass panel had been placed in delicate steel frames; the idea had been to make the glass appear continuous. It was a nice detail on what would have otherwise been a run-of-the-mill structure. He moved back to the computer, calling up the CAD file that had been used to generate the print. There it was, the angle that had caused all of the problems, the arch that was not strong enough to support the weight of a man.
He had hoped against hope that he could find some simple mistake that would help to explain why the design had been wrong, some way to lessen the guilt that Hannah felt, some way to get her back to work. He returned to the prints once again, running his hands over the papers, frustration building inside him. There had to be something, some other reason for the collapse, it didn’t make sense, not for her. He traced his finger along the faint line on the bottom of the top print, the line that came from the plotter in this room, Hannah’s old office. Each page, he noted, had the same line, proof of her work. Except one. Except one very important page – the detail of the atrium! He pulled the print off the table and took it to the window to see it in a different light. His eyes searched as his heart started beating faster. It wasn’t there, the line wasn’t there and from experience he knew that there was no way that this print could have been made on Hannah’s plotter. If someone else had made the print, was it possible the error could have been made by the same person?
His knowledge of computers had always held him in good stead, the relatively simple security system the firm used stood up to his hacking only momentarily. He accessed the archives, tracing the last updates on the designs for the fateful project. The files for each page of the prints had been accessed within a week of each other, obviously a last review before the construction actually had begun, except for the file for the atrium. Someone had accessed that file fully two weeks after the others. Jarod looked carefully at the details on the files, checking for the user codes. All of the files were entered under Hannah’s code, the same one that he now used from this terminal, except for the one. The atrium file’s user code was different, and although he did not yet know for sure which office it was tied to, he had a very good idea.
The realization of what he had just found slowly sank in. There had been an act of sabotage, a purposeful changing of the construction plans that had caused a man’s death and the end of Hannah’s career. There was one final thing that he had to check to be sure. He hacked his way into the administrative files, searching for the user codes. There it was, his proof.
He pushed the intercom button on the phone, punching in Arthur’s office extension. The light flashed and he was just about to pick up the receiver when he heard a peculiar scraping outside the door of his office. Reflexively, he turned off the monitor, then moved from behind the desk and toward the door, searching for something to use as a weapon. No one else should be in the building except Arthur, and he had just picked up the receiver in his office.
An instant after he had turned off the overhead lights, the door cracked, then opened wider as a tall form, heavy in a winter coat, entered the room. Jarod stood motionless, pressed against the wall behind the open door. The intruder slowly moved into the center of the room, then stopped as he spied the silver case sitting on the edge of the desk.
Jarod’s hand pushed the door, slamming it shut. "Brock, how nice of you to come and visit."
The other man jumped at the sound, spinning around to face Jarod. He stammered guiltily. "Jarod, I didn’t know you were here today."
"What can I say?" Jarod’s voice was sarcastic as he walked around his visitor and behind the desk. "My work is never done."
Once again, Brock’s eyes went to the silver case. His demeanor noticeably changed from that of a sneaking interloper back into his usual bravado, a sly smirk replacing his embarrassment at being caught. "So is this what she’s after?"
Jarod’s eyes followed the other’s to the case, adrenaline suddenly racing through his body. "What who is after?"
"Oh, what’s her name? Miss Parker, that’s it. She must be pretty desperate to get this back if she’s willing to post your picture all over the Internet." He picked up the case. "What’s inside, money, securities?"
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Oh, I think you do. My son found her little "Wanted" site while he was playing around on the stupid computer one day. He recognized you from that picture Arthur gave us of our table at the party. He’s a smart boy, told me about it right away and I contacted your little friend. It seems she’s quite eager to get a hold of you if she’s willing to part with that kind of cash."
Leaning forward across the desk, Jarod reached for the case with one hand, the other surreptitiously pushing the intercom button on the phone. He hoped Brock would be too busy trying to keep the case to notice the red light go on, and he was right. The other man pulled the silver case away, holding it to his chest.
"I don’t think so, Jarod. I’m sure this is worth something, too. You know Miss Parker, do you think I can get another fifty thousand out of her?"
Jarod laughed. "That’s all, fifty thousand dollars? You idiot. You sold out cheap. But that’s what you do, Brock, isn’t it? You sell people out, just like you sold out Hannah, and Arthur and this company. Why’d you do it, why did you change the print for that atrium?"
For a moment, Brock was silent as he contemplated the situation, then once again his courage returned. "So you figured it out."
"It’s in the computer, Brock. Your user id is the last one on the file, but I’m not surprised you didn’t think of that. I’m only surprised you had the brains to come up with the change in the first place, or did your son do that?"
Brock threw the silver case down onto the desk top, sending almost everything there flying to the ground. "That’s why I did it! You and that sanctimonious bitch, you think you’re so smart, so perfect, and me, I’m just stupid old Brock. Well, let me tell you something, I’m not stupid, and I not about to let some broad get what I deserve because she married the boss’ son.
"And you. Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here out of the blue? You tried the same thing she did, getting in tight with the family and trying to take over? Well, I didn’t let it happen last time, and I’m not going to let it happen now. I’ve been here for seventeen years and if anyone’s going to take over this place when the old man goes, it’s going to be me."
"That’s what this is all about? That’s it?" Jarod stared at him as he moved from behind the desk. "You ruined Hannah’s life, you caused the death of a totally innocent man, all for a promotion?"
"She deserved it."
"You son of a bitch!" Jarod swung a tightly clenched fist at the other man’s head, connecting cleanly with his jaw and sending his heavy body reeling across the floor and into the wall near the door. Immediately, Jarod sprang at him again, his powerful forearm pressed against the other man’s throat, forcing him against the paneling. Brockton’s face turned a deep red as he struggled to breathe, his hands pulling desperately at Jarod’s arm.
"You have so little regard for anyone’s life, maybe I should feel the same way about your’s. Should I ruin your life, like you did to Hannah, or to Jack Dawson’s family, or should I just end it?"
Brockton’s eyes bulged out in fear and desperation. He saw the expression of rage on his assailant’s face, rage and contempt.
"Jarod!" Neither of them had seen Arthur as he ran into the room. He reached a determined hand between the two men. "This isn’t the way, this isn’t your way. I’ve already called the police, let him go!"
It took a moment for Jarod to find the willpower to back away. The murderous fury still burned in his eyes. "You heard what he did, he set Hannah up! Her plans were fine, he changed them so that the atrium would collapse. He killed Jack Dawson."
Arthur nodded as he watched Brockton, now slumped on the floor massaging his neck. "I heard over the intercom, I know. I just find it hard to believe." He reached into the side pocket of his blazer, pulling out a handgun and trained it at the man on the floor. "I brought this back from the war, I never thought I’d have a need for it again."
Brockton attempted to speak. "Not me! They want him-" he croaked out, pointing at Jarod.
"Don’t bother trying to talk now," Arthur interrupted. "Save your voice for the police. As for you," he glanced over at Jarod. "I think I can handle this by myself. They should be here soon."
It was obvious that the older man did not understand the situation completely, but he had heard enough over the intercom to realize that Jarod was in peril himself and was encouraging him to leave. His rage still dangerously close to the surface, Jarod picked the silver case off of the disheveled desktop and silently walked out the door.
Hannah unlocked the apartment door and gratefully put the two overstuffed shopping bags down on the table. She had thought that it would easier to put three bags of miscellaneous purchases into two and save herself another trip to the car, but the inspiration had only been barely successful.
"All right, sweetie," she called to the little bundle of mittens, scarf and snowsuit behind her. "Why don’t you take your boots off here and hang up your outside clothes on the hook in your room?"
Caitlin’s voice became clearer as her mother removed the scarf from in front of her mouth. "Can I make a picture before lunch?"
"Sure thing, sweetheart." Just then, the buzzer sounded and she walked over toward the intercom. "You can color with crayons in your room, if you’re careful." She pressed the microphone button as Caitlin swish-swished her snowsuited legs down the short hallway. "Yes, may I help you?"
A female voice came through the tinny speaker. "We’d like to talk to the manager."
Hannah was curious, but not surprised. Perhaps Jarod had told someone that his apartment was available. "I’m in 101. I’ll buzz you in."
She had just taken her own jacket off and hung it up when an aggressive knock sounded at her door. She opened it.
A tall woman walked into the room uninvited, followed shortly by an older looking gentleman. The woman had an impatient aire about her that contrasted completely with the man’s quiet resignation. She pulled a 5x7 picture out of a pocket in her leather coat and forced it in front of Hannah. "We have reason to believe that this man rented a place here, is that correct?"
She took the photo and her heart nearly stopped. The black and white picture was of Jarod; it looked like it had been taken from a distance, as if from a surveillance camera. She surreptitiously glanced at the two standing in front of her, a thousand thoughts screaming through her mind. The woman must be Miss Parker, and the man, Sydney? They had found Jarod, or at least were close. But they would not be here if they already had him. She had played this scene over and over in her mind in a myriad of ways, but she was still not sure what she should say. Jarod had told her what to do - at all cost protect herself and Caitlin, but how could she protect him?
She looked up, smiling at both, even as every muscle in her body wanted to scream out in action. "Well, he looks a little different than in this picture, but I’m pretty sure that this is Jarod Johnson." Hopefully her feigned indecision would cover her delay in responding. "This looks like the man I rented 106 to. Has he done anything wrong?" she asked innocently.
"Let’s just say that he’s wanted for questioning." Miss Parker grabbed at the photo. "Do you know if he’s in?"
"Oh, I don’t think so." Hannah answered again sweetly. She got the impression that the more ignorant and subservient she appeared to the formidable Miss Parker, the faster she would be dismissed, and that was exactly what she wanted. "I don’t think that he’s been there for a few weeks. I was just about to go and check to see if he had moved his things out so that I could rent it again."
Hannah watched as the other woman swore not quite under her breath. She was quite beautiful, in a severe, expensive kind of way. Hannah recognized in her some of her own aggressive traits, those same things she would need to conceal right now.
"If you’d like, I could open up the place. Maybe we can all find out if he’s coming back or not."
Miss Parker snatched at the idea, as Hannah knew she would. She was eager to get them out of her home. As long as she appeared helpful, no suspicion should fall on her, but she was not sure what a random glance around her own apartment might find. She pulled the keys out of a drawer and headed down the hall, the two close behind.
Leaving them in Jarod’s mostly empty unit, she hurried back to her own and checked on Caitlin. The little girl was coloring quietly, oblivious to the turmoil that was going on around her. Hannah stood in the middle of the room, her heart beating frantically. What should she do now? Would Jarod still be at work? Just as she reaching for the phone, a polite knock sounded again at her door. She swore to herself and opened it.
"Excuse me, Miss -" Sydney’s cultured voice was soothing.
"Coneely, Mrs. Coneely," she finished for him.
"Mrs. Coneely, may I ask you a few questions? About Jarod."
If she refused, he might begin to suspect her. She had no choice but to let him in.
"I was wondering, in the time that Jarod has been here, has he had many visitors? Anyone who you may have seen around a few times?"
"Nnooo, I don’t believe so," she answered in what she hoped was a thoughtful tone. She looked at her hands and saw that they were shaking, perhaps putting away the groceries still in bags on the table could cover that up while she thought through her deception. "We keep to ourselves mostly in this building. I did see him go in and out, but that was about all."
Sydney walked slowly through to the living room area, looking around. "You have a child, yes?" The tone was non-threatening, merely interested.
"Yes, I have a three year old girl. She’s in her room coloring right now."
"She’s quite a little artist. You must be very proud."
Hannah wasn’t sure how to respond, she wasn’t sure of the rules of the game. Could this man be trusted, as Jarod said he could? Then why was he here, asking these questions? She watched silently as Sydney continued to look around the room at Caitlin’s various masterpieces. The phone rang, and she excused herself.
"Hello," she answered with a feigned cheerfulness.
"Hannah, it’s me."
She turned her back to the older man so that he would not see the tears that almost instantly came to her eyes. Her mind raced. "Oh, Caroline, how have you been? It’s been ages!"
Jarod paused for only a moment. "There’s someone there, is it Miss Parker and Sydney?"
"Well, at least since Caitlin’s second birthday," she answered, still with a light tone.
"I understand. Sydney’s there. Keep it up. You’re doing great. Is Parker in the building?"
"Of course, of course, we’d be delighted."
"I’m not surprised. It’s a long story, but Brock somehow found out about the Centre. He told them where I was."
"Oh, no." Her deceptive voice conveyed only a tiny amount of the horror she really felt, but it was getting difficult to continue. "Is everything okay?"
"I think so, but I’m going to have to leave for a while. Hannah, I’m so sorry."
She had known the situation, known that he would be leaving as soon as Miss Parker had shown her his picture, but now, hearing him actually say it made it so completely irrevocable. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions down for just a bit longer.
"I need you to try and buy me some time."
Hannah’s mind raced, trying to invent a plausible story and at the same time tell Jarod what he needed to know. "Well, I have a place that’s been empty for a little while. I think the tenant moved out without telling me. There’s someone looking at it right now."
"Miss Parker is in my place? Good. There’s enough there to keep her guessing. How long did you say that I’ve been gone?"
"Three weeks would be fine, I’m sure we can work it out."
"You’re incredible." Jarod’s voice was full of pride. "Thank you. They won’t be talking to Brock anytime soon, all they have to go on is what you say."
"Oh, don’t thank me at all, it’s the least I can do."
"I’m sorry, Hannah. I have to go. I love you."
Hannah squeezed her eyes closed and clenched her teeth. It felt like someone was ripping her heart out. She could hear the tears in Jarod’s voice and knew that she couldn’t dare say the words that were screaming inside of her. For his sake, she had to keep up the charade.
"Oh, me too," she said cheerfully, as if to her imaginary friend. "It’ll be great to see you again. Give me a call when you know exactly what’s up. Okay, talk to you later. Bye."
She hung up the phone and turned back toward Sydney who was still looking at Caitlin’s artwork. "I’m sorry about that, that was just a friend of mine. She needs a place to stay for a couple weeks. It looks like your Mr. Johnson moved out just in time."
Starting toward the table and the bags still sitting on it, she picked up the one nearest the edge. "Now, was there anything else I can help you with? Like I said, I didn’t get to really know him-" and then she saw it. Hanging in the nearby window, reflecting a prismatic light from the bright winter sunshine. One of Jarod’s DSA disks, suspended on a piece of Christmas ribbon where he had put it for Caitlin to admire. The overfull bag she had been holding suddenly crashed down onto the table of its own accord, scattering its contents to fall across onto the floor. Sydney spun around at the noise.
"Oh, my goodness," Hannah gasped as she watched cans and bottles roll around her feet. "The bag must have broken."
"Let me help you with that." Sydney moved closer and crouched down to pick up items, placing them on the table as she was. For the moment, at least, his attention was focused away from the disk.
The last item was a prescription bottle, which had rolled far away from the table. Hannah was just about to reach for it when the older man’s hand wrapped around it. As he stood, he glanced at the label: Prenate - Prenatal Vitamins with Folic Acid. Sydney’s eyes rose from the label slowly to meet hers. His expression unreadable, he placed the bottle into her hand.
"Does he know?"
Once again it seemed as if her heart had stopped. Fear sprang into her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Does Jarod know that you are expecting?"
"What do you think Jarod has-"
She had tried to counter with indignation, but she could not keep up the pretense as Sydney reached into his pocket and pulled out the shining disk on the loop of ribbon. He must have taken it down as she was watching her groceries scatter. She closed her eyes and reached for the edge of the table. Reacting quickly, Sydney pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and guided her into it. He reached for another chair and sat down in front of her, leaning forward to take her hand in his own.
"Jarod has told me a bit about you and your daughter. I think I know what kind of a relationship you have, but I need to know if you have told him about this child."
Hannah shook her head. "I wasn’t sure."
Sydney leaned against the back of the chair and ran his hand across his face, staring at the ceiling.
Perhaps it was the mixture of emotions on the other man’s face, indecision, fear, even a little pride, but it served to galvanize Hannah’s resolve. "He can’t find out."
His response was more than she expected, his eyes were steely. "He has a right to know."
"Jarod has told me about you, too, Sydney. For the most part, he trusts you, he believes that you are trying to do what is best for him. If what he believes is true, then you know he can’t go back to the Centre.
"You’ve got to realize what will happen if he finds out. He’ll come back here and they’ll find him, or else he’ll try to take us away and we’ll slow him down, and they’ll find him. He can’t have that emotional burden now, not until he’s free of those people. I won’t give anyone the ammunition to blackmail him."
"Don’t you think that you are already important enough for him to take those risks?"
"We’ve talked about this day almost from the beginning, since I found out who he really was, and I accept the situation. Caitlin and I were getting along just fine before Jarod came along, and he knows that we’ll be all right without him."
"What about your relationship, what happens to that?"
She looked at him coldly. "That is between Jarod and myself." She stood up and moved toward the desk.
Sydney was unconvinced. "I know how he will feel when he finds out. Family, fatherhood. These things are so important to him, the things that he holds most dear. He should know now."
"Jarod trusts you." Hannah’s tone was icy. "But I don’t, so I’m going to tell you how this is going to work. Jarod will not find out about this child until I decide that it is safe to tell him. I will not allow you to jeopardize his freedom."
Closing the desk drawer, Hannah held up another of the shining silver disks. Her eyes blazed at the older man. "These aren’t the only disks I’ve got. Don’t bother looking for the rest, you won’t find them. If I have to, I’ll take Jarod’s story and those disks to every newspaper and television station in this country, until you and the Centre are the only thing that people are talking about. I will tell them every one of your nasty little secrets, your abductions, your simulations, your sick little experiments, until your life is a living hell."
Sydney shook his head. "You don’t understand. The Centre will not allow that to happen."
"No, Sydney, you don’t understand. Jarod has taught me things in the last few weeks, and I will use that knowledge to do whatever is necessary to protect him, my children and myself. And I have an advantage he doesn’t. You see, Sydney," she leaned down into his face, her voice low and menacing. "I don’t really care what happens to you." She spun the silver disk through her fingers, the remainder of the threat unspoken.