A Matter of Blood
Part 8
by N.R. Levy
The sweeper had no idea how to handle the situation he was currently faced with. His only duty had been to stand outside the metal door, making certain no one approached and that the occupant behind it did not leave. No one had told him that this could happen.
The screams were beginning to make his skin crawl. He knew that the person was yelling words mixed in with anguished howls of pain, but he had no idea what was being said and he did not want to get close enough to find out. When the screams lessened, the sweeper could hear the meager furnishings in the room being thrown about the room in a frenzy, and he had no wish to see the results of the efforts of the room's occupant.
Finally, having no idea what to do, he pulled out his cell phone and called Mr. Lyle. He was told in no uncertain terms that Mr. Lyle was unavailable. Even after he explained that it was an emergency about Mr. Lyle's special project, the acting chairman's secretary still refused to connect him. He called his immediate supervisor next, but was told that the man had left town in pursuit of a Centre fugitive named Jarod, so he, too, was unavailable.
With his own frustration growing, and the cries growing more and more agitated, the young sweeper did the only thing left he could do. Quickly he dialed another number and listened as a gruff male voice answered.
"This is Sam."
"Sam, um, this is Jake Barnes. Um, look, I've got a problem here, a real bad one, and I got no clue how to deal with it."
"Where are you?"
"It's 22755 Commonwealth -- and Sam, I wasn't supposed to tell anybody about this place. Mr. Lyle's gonna be pissed, but --"
"Don't worry about him, kid. I'm on my way."
Happily, Jake snapped shut his cell phone and sighed, glad that someone who might have a means of dealing with the situation was on his way.
The ambulance ride redefined the word excruciating for Jarod. Twice, Parker's heart had stopped beating, and both times he had sat helpless watching the paramedics try to save her. He wanted nothing more than to push them all out of the way, using his vast knowledge to save her himself, but some part of his rational mind kept him from doing so. He was too close now, too far removed from his objectivity.
Once they arrived, the ER doctors, led by a Dr. Harry Sanders began working on her. Trying to remain helpful, Jarod quickly recounted her history of ulcer problems.
Within minutes, Parker was taken away from him as she was rushed into an O.R. Jarod ran with her as far as he could, his hands helping to speed the gurney along as he looked down at her, willing every ounce of strength he had to her. Finally, he felt a nurse push him away, telling him that he could go no further.
Returning to the waiting room, Jarod caught sight of Emily. He had no idea how she'd even gotten here. He remembered yelling at her to call 9-1-1, and then hearing her crying, saying over and over "I'm sorry, Jarod. I'm sorry."
Then he saw Hanson, the lead detective from the Silk Stalker case. The man walked up to Emily, handing her a cup of water as he patted her on the shoulder, trying to reassure her.
His worry for Parker was so strong he felt as if he would suffocate under its weight, but now Jarod knew he had another problem to deal with. Hanson was going to want answers, and he had to figure out what they were going to be.
As Jarod approached, Hanson looked up. The man he had come to know as Jarod Pembleton, ace criminologist, looked as if he'd aged five years in the past hour. Still, he needed to know what had happened, and why violence had found it's way to Jarod's home.
"Hey, Jarod. Sorry about your friend."
Jarod saw Emily look at him, guilt and pain still filling her eyes. He knew they needed to talk, and soon. For now, however, there was Hanson to face.
"Can we talk over here. I don't want to upset my sister."
Hanny, as he was frequently called, nodded, and he and Jarod crossed the hallway, leaving Emily alone.
"So, what the hell happened, Jarod?"
"It was him -- the Stalker."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. I know who he is."
"And that's why he came after you? You expect me to believe this guy knew you figured out who he was?"
"No, I..." Jarod trailed off, his voice catching. He was so used to concocting grand stories to cover his sudden bursts of knowledge during his pretends, but this time, he felt an overwhelming urge to tell the truth. His mind simply didn't have the will or the energy to do otherwise.
"Hanny, I used to do research for a company that -- well, let's just say they didn't always do what I thought they were doing with that research. This man, his name is Damon, he was one of the people who used what I found to hurt people."
"And what, you blew the whistle on him?"
"In a manner of speaking. Look, what I can tell you is that Damon is doing all of this in order to get back at me -- the attacks, all of it was a set-up to get me involved in the case."
"But you didn't even transfer into San Diego until after the first attack."
"You can believe me or not believe me, but if you find a woman named Linda Whitman, you'll see that she bears an uncanny resemblance to my friend -- the one that's fighting for her life right now. She was going to be his target until..."
Hanson couldn't suppress the feeling that the whole story was simply too much, too far-fetched to be believed. He would have dismissed it out of hand, except for one thing -- the look in Jarod's eyes told him that it was the truth.
"Is there any way you can back this up?" Jarod looked at him silently, offering no reply. "Jarod, you want me to go in there and tell them I know who the suspect is with nothing else but your say so? Do you realize how that’s going to look?"
"Check the D.C. police logs. You'll find a report of a man who failed in a terrorist attack on a church during a political service to promote peace. His photo and his fingerprints are in the file. He wasn't careful at my place today, I know it. Compare the prints."
Hanson had been a cop for nearly twenty years, and his gut always told him when to move and when to stay put. Right now, it was telling him to get back to the station and get the file from D.C.
"All right, Jarod, but I'm leaving two uniforms here. If he came after you, and he knows your friend is still alive, he might be back."
Hanson walked away, not waiting for a response from Jarod, and so he missed the muttered words that escaped Jarod's lips.
"I'm counting on it."
Sam arrived at the location Jake had given him, and he was barely in the building before he heard the screams that were coming from the other room. Something about the sounds was vaguely familiar to Sam, but at the moment, he couldn't place it. He found Jake pacing nervously in front of a well-secured door.
"Have you gone inside?"
"Are you nuts, man? Listen to him."
Sam rolled his eyes at the rookie sweeper, and wondered what the hell Lyle had been thinking, sending a new kid to handle a special project.
"Unlock the door." Sam saw Jake's eyes open wide and his mouth fall open.
"You're going in there?"
"Open the door."
Shocked, Jake moved to the locks, entering the computerized security codes that would release the raging lunatic inside the room. The door opened, and Sam entered quickly -- and, to Jake's continued amazement -- without his gun drawn.
Sam was barely through the door before he realized who was in the room. He still had no idea what was happening, but he knew something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Angelo was in a rage, his physical efforts at destroying the room having left him drenched in sweat. Tears streamed down his face, and his voice was becoming hoarse from the hours of screaming. Sam moved toward him slowly, trying not to startle him.
"Angelo, it's Sam. What's wrong, buddy? What's going on?"
Angelo turned on him, and for a moment, Sam thought the strange man was going to charge him. Then Angelo dropped to his knees, his hands in his hair as he began to wail, a new onslaught of tears coming. Sam moved in, sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms tightly around Angelo to keep him from moving away.
"What is it, Angelo? What's happened?"
"Angel dying! Have to save. Must help Angel."
Sam felt his heart stop at the other man's words. There was only one person in the Centre who was called Angel, and Sam would be damned if he was going to ever let anything happen to her. Keeping hold of Angelo with one arm, he reached for his cell phone and began to dial.
"Sydney, this is Sam. I'm going to give you an address. Get here right away. Miss Parker's in trouble, and I need your help to find out where she is."
Emily could not believe how stupid she'd been. It was all her fault. She'd brought Parker here, and now the woman who'd saved her life was dying. On top of that, she was certain her brother hated her. He had barely said two words to her since finding Parker, and after he returned from his talk with Detective Hanson, he had simply begun to pace the halls, refusing to even look at her. She didn't even know where he was right now.
She tried again to stop crying, but found it was a losing battle. Emily was just wiping away still more tears when the doctor walked into the room. From almost no where, Jarod materialized by her side, and he quickly cut off any speech any one else might have uttered.
"How is she?"
"She's in critical condition. Her ulcer was torn open by the attack, and on top of that, it caused new damage the abdominal cavity. She lost a lot of blood, and her blood pressure is all over the place. We're doing everything we can."
"Can I see her?"
"For a few minutes."
The doctor began to walk away, and Jarod followed. He turned back momentarily, glancing at Emily. She saw something in his eyes, maybe a half-hearted attempt to reassure her? She wasn't sure.
Jarod entered the room, his spirits sinking as he saw Parker lying there like a lifeless porcelain statue. He moved to her bedside, his eyes filling with tears as he leaned close to her.
"I'm sorry, Parker. Please, please, don't go."