Sam stood quickly, switching from visitor mode to full alert mode, as Mr. Abé and a single ebony-faced bodyguard walked through the open door. “Miss Parker,” the African greeted her with a shallow bow, “it’s good to see that your condition continues to improve.”

Miss Parker nodded at him, knowing instinctively that the lack of tubes and lines into her body to combat the consequences of having been skewered by a broken pine branch would naturally mean she was getting better. “Thank you, sir,” she replied formally, and then waved for Sam to bring the chair he’d been occupying closer to the bed. “Please have a seat.”

Mr. Abé shook his head and waved for Sam to cease his efforts. “It will not be necessary, Miss Parker,” he replied equally formally, “for this will be but a very short visit.”

“You’ve made your decision,” Miss Parker guessed.

“Assisted in great part by a report from a friend within the Centre that your Mr. Lyle has been arrested in Baltimore on suspicion of murdering a woman there recently – and that the federal prosecutor may level additional charges regarding several other murders in a number of other states.”

Miss Parker stared. “He’s… been arrested?”

“And is being held without bail,” the elderly African told her.

Miss Parker didn’t bat an eye. “You knew this would happen sooner or later,” she commented evenly. “There have been a number of times since my father died that I knew it HAD to be the Triumvirate pulling strings to keep his name from being connected to killings…”

“As you are here, in the hospital, and Mr. Raines is dead, there was nobody at the Centre to authorize dispatching a lawyer to Mr. Lyle’s assistance,” Mr. Abé told her. “And when he called us directly, I informed him that the Triumvirate would no longer be rushing to his aid. Covering for him was one of the ways in which the Centre seemed to be bleeding funds.”

“Which leaves you where in your decision as to the Centre’s future?” Miss Parker asked pointedly. “I can tell you right now that there is more than adequate evidence to convict Lyle several times over – if one knows where to look. That means that Lyle will not be in any position to take over as Chairman – and I have no intention of taking the job...”

“There is always the young son of the previous Chairman, Mr. Parker…”

“No!” Miss Parker burst out angrily. “Absolutely not! Jordan is too small a child to have that kind of responsibility…”

“The Triumvirate can appoint a board of trustees to manage the Centre while young Mr. Parker is educated by the finest…”

“You can’t do that,” Miss Parker announced angrily. “When my father died, I was appointed Jordan’s guardian in conjunction with Mr. Raines. Now that Raines is dead, that leaves me as Jordan’s sole guardian – and I’ll be damned if I’ll let another generation of Parker be raised in the shadow of the Centre.” Her storm-grey eyes snapped. “You will leave my little brother strictly alone, do you hear me?”

The African’s gaze hardened. “You’re eliminating all possible alternatives.”

“I’m just telling you what alternatives are genuinely open to you – and the number is very seriously limited. You can either absorb the Centre into the Triumvirate itself – at which point you will pay me and to the shareholders full market value of all real and intangible assets – or you will allow the Centre to fade into the sunset and we will reimburse the Triumvirate any moneys owed.” Miss Parker glanced over at Sam and saw him watching the reactions of the African’s bodyguard to Mr. Abé’s moods. That sight gave her strength and courage.

Mr. Abé stared hard at her for a long, silent moment before finally taking a very deep breath. “You leave me no choice, then, than to authorize you to oversee the dismantling and sale of Centre properties and assets with an eye to refunding the Triumvirate’s overall investment in your corporation.”

Miss Parker nodded, not letting her triumph or satisfaction show visibly on her face. “You will need to meet with the Chief Financial Officer, and bring a complete set of books demonstrating the extent to which the Triumvirate has invested in the Centre. I don’t expect any of those entries to include the times you bailed Lyle out of trouble with law enforcement or other such discretionary payments.”

“Even if doing so was at the direct request of Mr. Parker or Mr. Raines?” was the startled question.

“Even so,” she replied firmly. “Bailing Lyle out of a jam didn’t directly benefit the Centre per se – only the reputation of one corporate officer.”

“You strike a very hard bargain, Miss Parker,” Mr. Abé grumbled with a backward glance at his own bodyguard, “but as you have pointed out, the alternatives are very limited. We – the Triumvirate – will agree to your proposal.” The elderly African rose from his seat slowly, as if the movement was painful. “Our lawyers will be in contact with you regarding the precise wording of the agreement to finalize this.”

“I’m hoping to be back in Blue Cove by the end of the week,” Miss Parker informed him with a slightly more congenial tone. “It would be deeply appreciated – by me, if by nobody else – if you could allow further negotiations on this matter rest until after the weekend. I’d like to be a little less under the influence of the heavy painkillers and a little more up to speed on the full extent of the work to be done.”

Mr. Abé nodded slowly. “Please call your secretary and have that person get in contact with my assistant to set up an appointment for Monday morning.” He extended his hand to her. “I do believe that it is the Triumvirate’s greatest loss that when it finally finds itself in the position to be dealing with the Parker most capable of running the Centre properly, she decides she doesn’t want the job.”

“Thank you.” Miss Parker knew that, coming from this man, she’d received about the highest compliment possible. “I look forward to seeing you on Monday morning.”

“Miss Parker.” With a quick gesture, the Africans walked sedately from the room, leaving Sam staring at Miss Parker in surprise and admiration.

“You did it,” he shook his head in disbelief. “You got them to agree to allow you to close the place down without a fight.”

She wagged a forefinger at him. “This isn’t finished yet, Sam. I need a cell phone.”

“Broots has his…” Sam told her.

“Is this a good time?” Broots knocked on the open door and peeked in. “Miss Parker?”

“Just the man I wanted to see,” she waved him in imperiously. “I need your cell phone.”

Broots put his arm around Debbie and escorted her into the room and then pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket as he drew closer to the hospital bed. “It’s good to see you feeling better,” he commented with a quick glance at Sam.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she ordered and then dialed a number from memory. “Glenda? Good – I caught you. I want…” She listened to a burst of excitement from the other end of the line. “Yes, I’ve heard. Listen – there are a number of things I need you to do for me immediately. First, make an appointment for me to meet with Mr. Abé on Monday morning and clear it with his personal assistant. Secondly, I want…” She looked over at Sam and snapped her fingers in a familiar display of impatience. “Give me the names of two sweepers that you can trust.”

“Hal and Dave,” Sam answered immediately. They had worked often enough in conjunction with the search for Jarod that he sometimes wondered that the two weren’t unofficial members of the team.

Miss Parker turned back to her phone call. “I want sweepers Hal and Dave to take up guard positions in the nursery on a rotating basis until I get back. Absolutely nobody not already on Jordan’s schedule of visitors or helpers is to get to him. Finally, I want our Chief Financial Officer to look through the Centre budget and make a full accounting of all Triumvirate investments – from direct purchase of assets to project contracts and outstanding loans. I want that report on my desk Monday morning when I get to work.” She listened again. “Exactly. I’ll be in touch again – and I’ll have a new number at which you can reach me. Get busy.” She disconnected and handed the phone back to Broots. “Thanks.”

“What’s going on?” Broots asked, pocketing the phone.

Miss Parker put out her left arm so as to accept a quick hug from Debbie, who was looking more than a little lost. “Hey there,” she said softly as the girl carefully returned the hug, “what’s the matter?”

“We’re going back?” Debbie asked fearfully.

“There’s nothing to be feared back there anymore,” Miss Parker soothed the young girl and then looked up at Broots. “Lyle’s managed to get himself arrested for murder in Baltimore – and the feds are moving on other cases elsewhere…”

“Oh man!” Broots’ eyes widened. “So, if Lyle’s in the pokie and Raines is pushing up daisies, does that mean…” His eyes widened even further. “That makes you…”

“Nope,” Miss Parker shook her head firmly. “Not if I have my way. I’m going to do what has needed to be done for years, Broots – I’m going to close it down.”

“No more Centre?” Debbie asked.

“No more Centre,” Miss Parker responded. “But I have to move fast – because the Triumvirate has already thought through one way to circumvent my wishes. They wanted to take Jordan and…”

“They can’t do that,” Broots stated firmly, knowing that the time had arrived for him to hand over the news he’d been sitting on. “Miss Parker, while I was sitting around waiting for word from Sam and Ethan, I hacked into the Centre mainframe and found out that the DNA report you were waiting for was waiting for us.”

Miss Parker sat up a little straighter. “Well,” she cocked an eyebrow at him. “I take it you read the report?”

“Oh yeah,” Broots sighed and had a hard time meeting her gaze. “I would have told you earlier what the results were, but you were so sick…”

“Spit it out, Broots!” she snapped the fingers of her left hand at him.

“Debbie, maybe Sam will take you down to the cafeteria for an ice cream,” Broots suggested, his gaze boring into that of the sweeper in mute plea.

Sam nodded and put out a big hand. “C’mon, Short Stuff – let’s let your dad and Miss Parker talk for a bit.” Debbie waved uncertainly at her father and surrogate mother and then let Sam pull her from the room.

“OK, we’re alone,” Miss Parker sighed. “Spill.”

“OK – in the first place, Jordan IS your son,” Broots reported bluntly.

Miss Parker paled slightly. “He is. My son!” Slowly she sank back against her pillows while her mind struggled to assimilate the knowledge that she was a mother. Finally she gazed at her computer tech again and noticed that the tension on his face hadn’t eased. “I take it that wasn’t everything?”

“No, ma’am.” Broots sighed. “When Sydney and I sent in the samples for the testing, we included everyone represented in the bodily fluids vault for consideration. We thought that maybe it was time for all the real relationships to come to light once and for all.”

Miss Parker nodded. “It would be nice to know and not have to guess any longer. So what’s the rest of the news that has you looking like you want to find a hole to hide in?”

Broots sank into the chair recently turned down by Mr. Abé when his knees wouldn’t hold him up any longer. “First of all, we wanted to know Jordan’s heritage – so we were looking for who would be the father…”

“Broots…” Miss Parker growled. “Drag this out, and I’ll drag something else out of you…”

“It’s Kyle, Miss Parker. Jordan is Kyle’s son.”

She blinked at him. “Not Jarod’s?” It made sense that they would have tried to breed her with Jarod once they lost Gemini – the last attempt to create a person with the psychic sensitivities of Catherine Jamison’s line with the Pretender gene that had created Jarod. But to have the father be Kyle instead?

“I looked into the mainframe yesterday, trying to trace that down when it didn’t make much sense,” Broots sighed. “It seems that there was a one digit difference between the vial number from the sperm sample collected from Jarod and the one collected from Kyle while he was still at the Centre. When the geneticists went for Jarod’s they pulled the wrong vial. I found a memo from Mr. Raines ordering the disciplining of the men responsible…”

“Oh for God’s sake!” Miss Parker rubbed her forehead with her fingers.

“That’s not all,” Broots sighed again. “The test results you ordered on Lyle and Angelo were fudged. Lyle’s not your brother – Angelo is.”

“Now THAT’S a good thing,” Miss Parker smiled at him. “Believe it or not, I’d far rather have Cousin It sitting in the branches of my family tree than Lyle’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” She tipped her head as she noted that still Broots looked nervous. “Don’t tell me there’s more…”

“Hang onto your hat, Miss Parker. Mr. Parker wasn’t your father…”

“I know that, you moron!”

“Yeah, but neither was Mr. Raines. Seems that Mr. Raines was shooting blanks, just like your… Mr. Parker was. They were brothers, though – that part of the story was true…”

“So who is my father, Broots?” Miss Parker asked, her voice descending until it was almost inaudible.

“I can’t be sure…”

Miss Parker would have exploded, but a look at Broots’ pale face gave her the reason to forestall the explosion. He cared about the news he carried – it had affected him personally – she couldn’t fault him for that. He’d been too good a friend to abuse too much. She took a very deep breath to calm herself. “What do you mean you aren’t sure?” she asked in a deceptively calm voice.

“The genetics of identical twins makes it almost impossible to separate out and distinguish between the two without a much more time-consuming process,” Broots explained with a pained look on his face. “So I can’t be sure whether it is…”

“Jacob or Sydney,” Miss Parker finished for him, her face blank with shock. “You’re sure about this?”

Broots nodded. “Like I said, I hacked into the mainframe to check some of this stuff out. There was another memo, from your… Mr. Parker… authorizing medical tests to be run on several key Centre employees – including Syd and his brother – that included the taking of sperm samples.” He looked down at his hands. “I also found a report from Mrs. Parker’s gynecologist on the results of the in-vitro fertilization…”

“That bastard!” Miss Parker sank deep into her pillow not exactly sure whether she was swearing at Mr. Parker or the geneticist who’d reported that Mr. Raines was her father. “Syd never knew, then…”

“That his sample had been used?” Broots blinked. “Probably not. And I’ll bet Jacob wouldn’t have known either.”

Miss Parker closed her eyes. After all this time, she finally knew where she stood in the world – more or less. Sydney WAS family after all – either as an uncle or a father.

“You OK, Miss Parker?” Broots inquired with a quick touch to her hand as it rested on the blanket next to her hip.

“It will take a while,” she admitted, opening her eyes again, “but yes, I think I’ll be OK.” She eyed him. “I’m sorry I barked at you. That couldn’t have been a picnic for you either.”

Broots’ eyebrows flew up to his long-departed hairline at the first apology he’d ever received from his prickly boss in all the years he’d known her. “I knew it wasn’t going to be easy news for you to take,” he replied, ducking his head.

“Does Sydney know?”

“Not yet,” Broots told her.

“I want to tell him myself,” she said softly. “If you don’t mind…”

Broots shook his head. No, he didn’t mind a bit. If he were Sydney, he’d want to find out he was either an uncle or father from his niece or daughter, and not just a friend. He put his forehead into his hand and tried not to imagine what it would be like for Sydney to find out just how diabolical the Centre had been to him once more.

And even though it meant he was on the verge of losing a job, he couldn’t help but be glad that the Centre’s days were finally numbered. An organization led by someone capable of such callous evil didn’t deserve to continue.

~~~~~~~~*

Erin couldn’t believe that she’d actually come in here. She stared at the row of chairs that lined a counter divided into three-foot sections with privacy barriers, thick Plexiglas and matching sets of telephones at each station. Several of those stations had someone seated in the chair talking to a prisoner on the other side of the Plexiglas – and several of those someone’s had small children playing at their feet.

The officer who had escorted her into the room pointed her to a station and, after waiting for her to sit down, went to inform the officer in charge that the prisoner in question had a visitor.

Lyle wasn’t wearing his crisp, expensive business suit any longer, nor was he in the very comfortable and expensive jogging suit. The orange jail jumpsuit made his skin look sallow and took away a good deal of the debonair façade. The fact that his hands and ankles were chained, and that Lyle had walked toward his side of the station with tiny, restricted steps merely drove home that he was a prisoner. He sat down in the chair opposite hers across the Plexiglas barrier and waited patiently for the guard to free his right hand to use the phone.

“Erin.” His voice was soft and gentle, just as it always had been for her. “I’m glad you’re here. I…”

“You killed Cherry,” she interrupted in an agitated voice. “They said that you raped her – probably more than once.” She glared at him. “They said you tortured her.”

“They have to blame someone,” Lyle shook his head at her. “You can’t believe…”

“I wiped a drop of blood from your neck that day,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard a word he’d said. “You came to keep our date directly from killing her, didn’t you? You hadn’t cut yourself shaving – that was Cherry’s blood!”

“Erin, I…”

“And you made love to me the night after you raped my friend,” she spat, her emotions finally gaining the upper hand. “I thought you’d never done such a thing, but here…”

“I hadn’t,” Lyle interrupted her this time. “I’d had sex before, but I swear to you that I’d never made love…”

“You make me sick,” Erin ground out with difficulty, “and you make me make myself sick. I’m never going to be able to forgive myself for sleeping with the man who raped and killed my best friend.”

Lyle sat there with an open mouth while he tried desperately to think of a way to answer her. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said finally. “You were sweet and young and innocent and the best thing that had ever happened to me. I swear…”

“I hope they fry you to a crisp,” Erin said, forcing her voice into steadiness. “You are a monster!”

“Perhaps,” Lyle replied, convinced at last that she would never believe in his innocence and finding the loss of her confidence more painful than he’d ever imagined, “but I did love you. You showed me that life as a normal man wasn’t as insipid as I’d been taught. And more than anything else, I regret that you ended up hurt. I wanted to keep you safe from all of this.”

“I hate you,” Erin replied and composed her face into a hard and cold mask of uncaring. “I hope you burn in Hell for eternity for what you’ve done – to Cherry and to all those other women you murdered, and to me.”

Without another word, she hung up the telephone and rose, turned on her heel and walked away from the station – away from the Plexiglas and the face of the man on the other side. Her back ramrod straight from sheer will, Erin paused while the officer in charge opened the doorway so that she could escape Lyle and the illusions that she’d allowed herself to believe in – escape from the dream of going to college in a big city and being completely independent and self-secure.

It wasn’t until she was back out on the street and climbing into a cab that would take her to the bus station that she let fall the tears that had burned behind her eyes. Damn him – damn him to Hell!

And the curse became a mantra that she repeated to herself until she was climbing onto the bus for home.

~~~~~~~~*

Carl Bennings smiled as Jarod brought them both cups of coffee from the urn provided for everyone involved in the Bennings Foundation. “You look much better this morning,” he commented to his friend as he accepted the white porcelain mug. “You must have gotten some decent sleep.”

Jarod nodded and sipped at the bitter brew. “I do feel much better today.” He actually managed to paste a smile on his face. “What about you? Are you feeling like taking a plane trip back east after the luncheon?”

Bennings paled a little bit but then put on a brave face. “I suppose this falls under the same category as climbing back onto a horse after it throws you, doesn’t it?”

“Something like that,” Jarod chuckled. “Despite everything, statistically, air travel is still safer by far than any other form…”

“Oh, shut up,” Bennings shook his head at his friend in disgust. “Don’t look too pleased – you get to nursemaid a white-knuckled coward…”

“You’ll be fine,” Jarod reassured him. “Just think of the view from your penthouse suite…”

“I suppose I could do that,” Bennings agree. “I have enough work to do once I settle down, just to deal with some of the proposals I’ve heard yesterday and this morning that I may not even notice…”

“I have my laptop with me,” Jarod told him enticingly. “You can be telecommuting even as you’re commuting for real.”

Bennings eyed his friend evenly. “What about you? You gonna want to stopover in Salt Lake City on the way home?”

Jarod’s gaze skittered away from the emerald spear wielded by his friend. “No,” he replied with a small shake of the head. “There’s nothing in Salt Lake City…”

“With a short car trip up to Ogden…”

“Not even that,” Jarod replied, the shaking of his head growing a little more determined. “I talked to Sydney last night…”

“Ah-HAH! I knew there had to be a reason for your better mood today!” Bennings crowed.

“Yeah, and he said for me to tell you hello,” Jarod grimaced at his boss. “I’ve decided that I’ll try to call Parker after I get home – and when Sydney can give me a phone number at which she can be reached. We both need some time to think about what we said to the other…”

“During your argument, you mean?”

Jarod nodded. “She was right – it was a discussion that had been a long time in coming. To me, it was a wake-up call I’ve had coming for years.”

Bennings sipped thoughtfully at his coffee. “Just as long as you aren’t going to let things slide until they’ve fallen completely apart to the point you can’t put them back together again.”

“I don’t think Sydney would let me get away with that,” Jarod mused aloud, more to himself than to Bennings.

“I told you I thought he was a wise old bird,” Bennings chuckled. “To be honest, I wouldn’t mind getting to know that man better myself.”

“He’ll psychoanalyze you faster than you can put your shoes on,” Jarod warned. When Bennings merely showed him a skeptical expression, Jarod shook his head. “Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The man raised me, after all – I should know.”

“Spoken like a true, long-suffering son,” Bennings chuckled, missing the strange look that flashed across Jarod’s face at the comment. “But let’s forget those in your past that you’ve decided NOT to put back into the past. I need to know if you have any ideas as to who you think would make a good manager for a new Foundation office in Chicago.”

“Chicago?” Jarod gaped. “Is THAT where your trustees see the Foundation moving next?”

Bennings beamed. “I just KNEW you’d appreciate the irony of setting up a Foundation office in the same town that housed my father’s old factory…

~~~~~~~~~*

Miss Parker could count on one hand the number of times in her lifetime that she’d seen Sydney at a complete loss for words. This would be the most memorable of them all, she thought as her old friend and colleague’s mouth simply dropped wide open and his eyes showed how his thought processes had been brought to a complete standstill. Behind him, Michelle shifted nervously. “You’re sure about this?” she asked skeptically.

“The technician that ran the tests was evidently someone Sydney and Broots trusted implicitly,” Miss Parker stated, her gaze not deviating from his face. “For the first time, I think I can say that there would be no reason for this man to bollix or fake results.” She watched him struggle to get his mind working again. “For God’s sake, say something, Syd!”

Sydney’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before the chestnut eyes suddenly blinked and he was functioning again – albeit with some difficulty. “I don’t know what to say, Parker… I…” Finally his gaze caught and held hers. “What about you?”

Her gaze still didn’t falter. “I told you up on the mountain how I used to dream about you being my real father, remember?” She bit her lip. “I’m just afraid that you’ll be disappointed now that it isn’t a dream anymore…”

He shook his head to the extent his cervical collar would allow him to move. “I haven’t had cause to be disappointed in you for a long time,” he replied softly. “And, to be quite honest, I’m just as afraid of the same thing.”

Slowly she shook her head. “I’m not disappointed, Sydney. In fact…” Her smile was slow in germinating but grew quickly. “…I’m perfectly content with the idea if you are.”

“As uncle, or…”

“As a father,” she answered quickly. “I remember that Mother used to trust you – hell, you even had me ready to kill you because you’d kept your word to her by keeping me in the dark. I would like to think that the only person she’d have trusted to that extent would have been the one who gave her me.” She shrugged. “Maybe not by the tradition method, but…”

“I guess that makes me Jordan’s real Grandpa, doesn’t it?” Sydney’s smile was equally slow in sparking, and just as quick to spread. “And Angelo…”

“That means he’s your son too.” Parker hadn’t thought that far – and the impact of that was considerable. “I have a twin brother!” For the first time, saying those words didn’t make her gorge rise dangerously in the back of her throat.

Michelle put her hands on Sydney’s back and leaned into his ear. “I think I need to make a phone call to Nicholas,” she whispered to him, “and let him know that he has a half-brother and a half-sister.” Sydney turned carefully and looked at Michelle, and then sighed in relief when the expression he found on her face was one of fondness. “I’m happy for you, Sydney,” she smiled and dropped a kiss onto his cheek before looking up at Miss Parker. “I’ll be back.”

For a long moment, an uncomfortable silence spread between them. Sydney finally made a stab at conversation with, “What did Broots have to say about this?”

“I think he was more relieved than anything else when he’d finally told me everything,” she answered. “Frankly, for my part, knowing for certain that I’m not related to Lyle is a huge relief.”

“This is going to change things…”

“Some things,” Miss Parker nodded. “Some things won’t change. I’ll still probably call you Freud when I’m ticked at you.”

“Not many daughters can claim to have a favorite accepted epithet for a parent,” Sydney quipped with a lopsided grin. “I hope things don’t change too much. We’ve already started over on our fresh page – I’d just as soon not abandon anything we’d already worked out between us.”

“I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to call you Daddy,” she told him sadly. “That name just has too much baggage.”

“Even Nicholas calls me Sydney, Parker,” he informed her gently. “It doesn’t matter…”

“It does to me.” Her face wore an expression of vulnerability. “I want to be able to acknowledge the relationship in public.” There was determination in the midst of that vulnerability. “Call it my way of declaring independence from the past.”

“Well, in that case, here’s always ‘Papa’ – it sounds a bit more European, more Belgian,” he suggested cautiously after a moment to consider.

“Would you answer to ‘Papa’, Sydney?” she asked softly.

His smile was one of the rare, wide, full-toothed beams that indicated just how contented he was. “I’d be honored to answer to ‘Papa’, Parker,” he replied. “I just hope I can live up to your expectations of what a ‘Papa’ would be like.”

Miss Parker patted the mattress on the edge of the bed next to her. “Just keep on doing what you normally do, Freud,” she told him as she watched him boost himself out of the chair and once more take the closer seat. “But for now, I’d just settle for a hug from my father.”

Sydney gathered her into his arms as if she were the most precious thing in his life. This was above and beyond anything he’d ever hoped to accomplish with their relationship shift from up on the mountain. “My daughter,” he murmured more to himself than to anybody else. “Mine!” It was real, and it still would take time to sink in completely.

“Papa,” she murmured back, tightening her left arm about him possessively. She’d spent decades suffering through the hugs of a man who not only wasn’t her father despite his claims, but his hugs had been cold and calculating ones. Sydney’s hugs over the last couple of days had been warm and comforting, and she knew she’d never wonder about the difference again.

~~~~~~~~~*

Sam peeked into the hospital room and froze when he saw that Sydney had Miss Parker in his arms and seemed to be comforting her. This wasn’t the time for a sweeper to intrude, he knew, and he turned about and headed for the front lobby, feeling just a little left out – and feeling stupid and ridiculous for letting what he’d seen get to him like that.

At least he didn’t feel cheated – he knew better, or at least should have. He’d always known that Sydney was closer to Miss Parker and she to him than either of them had ever wanted to admit. So many times over the years they’d all worked closely together, he’d watched Sydney pull Miss Parker’s feet back down to earth when events seemed to swirl out of control around her. He’d even seen her go to bat for Sydney to her fa… Mr. Parker’s face several times.

It was a good thing that, if nothing else, their time together up on that mountainside had brought them closer still. And Broots’ news would have cemented any changes into place that much more securely. He didn’t resent that – really he didn’t…

He slipped money into the vending machine and walked over to a seat not far from the front door and slumped into it. Who was he kidding? He resented the hell out of the fact that while Broots and Sydney were allowed to get closer – as they gained the status of being practically family – he was left on the outside looking in. He’d watched her back just as capably as either of the others. It just wasn’t fair…

“Sam?”

He looked up and saw Michelle standing a few feet away from him. “Yes?”

“Miss Parker is looking for you.”

He shook his head. “I was just there,” he told her. “She and Sydney were involved in a very private conversation.”

“I know,” the pretty woman with the short auburn hair smiled at him, “but Sydney’s doctor came around, and now Sydney’s signing the paperwork to get himself released. I heard Miss Parker wonder to one of the nurses where you’d gone – I thought I’d let you know…”

“Thanks.” Sam nodded and waited for her to walk away and leave him to his thoughts again.

She was calling for him. He rose, tipped the can of soda up to his mouth and drained it in a series of huge gulps. He’d better get back – after all, she was still his boss for the time being. He deliberately steered his mind away from what he’d do when there was no more Centre – when Miss Parker wouldn’t need him at her back any longer.

It was a long walk back to Miss Parker’s room, during which time Sam brutally disciplined his mind and his attitude into one of readiness to serve. If all he had left was the short span of time that it would take until the Centre closed and he lost his job, then he’d be damned sure to make his service exemplary. That would be the only thing he could take away from nearly fifteen years of his life – the knowledge that he’d been the best at what he’d done.

“Sam.” Her voice was relieved as she caught sight of him through the open doorway. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The near monotone response brought Miss Parker up short, and she stared at her sweeper for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Get in here – we need to talk.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam walked over to the side of the bed and stood stiffly at attention.

“Cut that crap and sit down. I’m not a drill instructor, and you’re not a raw recruit.”

Startled, he glanced down into her face before pulling up the chair and sitting in it. “What can I do for you, Miss Parker?”

“Talk to me.”

Sam’s brows rose toward his hairline. “You want to know more about the south side of East LA?”

“Nooo…” Her expression was one of muted exasperation. “I want to know more about why you’re suddenly pulling an attitude on me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“An apology explains nothing,” she said with a shake of the head. “We’ve known each other for how long now?”

“Fifteen years, ma’am…” Sam answered without even needing to think about it.

“Exactly,” she responded. “I think that gives me some experience with your moods and behavior – enough to know that you’re acting like I’ve done something wrong, or something to offend.”

“No, ma’am! That isn’t it…”

“All right.” She relaxed back into her pillow. “So tell me what IS wrong.”

“It’s nothing,” he sighed, and then sighed again. “It’s stupid.” After all, she’d just found out that Sydney WAS family – what did he expect her to do? He knew very well how much Mr. Parker had meant to her, despite the shitty way the old man had treated her. Did he really expect her to behave any differently toward Sydney? And Broots was Debbie’s father – and he knew how much Debbie meant to her. It was an ‘in’ that he didn’t have.

“OK. It’s nothing, and it’s stupid – but it’s still bugging the hell outta you. So talk to me.”

Sam sagged. Miss Parker in this kind of mood would be persistent until he finally told her what she wanted to know. “It’s just that with all the warm fuzzies floating around here with Sydney being your father and all that, I was…” His words tumbled to a stop. What audacity, to think that he had a place…

“You know that I’m more than aware that I couldn’t do this if I didn’t know you were backing me up, don’t you?” she asked quietly.

“I…” He couldn’t look at her anymore.

Miss Parker sat for a long moment looking at her personal sweeper, a man who had devoted his life to keeping her safe and doing whatever she asked of him, and remembered that brief glimpse of his deeper emotion that she’d tried to forget. That was when she realized what was going on. He was feeling left out – relegated to the status of Centre muscle and nothing more. She’d promised herself he deserved better.

“Sam, you’re important too,” she began, knowing how inadequate that sounded. “I mean, my God, you signed yourself out of a hospital to come and try to help me. You’ve been the strong support behind me that made me know that I could handle anything that came at me. I’ve relied on you more than you’ll ever know – and I don’t even know how to begin to tell you how much I…”

Their gazes met at last, caught and held. “I may not say the words, but you’re important to me – especially now. I need to know that things are OK between us, because I don’t think that I can do what I need to do and worry about you too.”

Sam could see that there were deeper emotions running behind that grey gaze – emotions that didn’t include any kind of romantic attachment, but instead was replete with warm caring. “You don’t have to worry about me, Miss Parker,” he told her honestly. “I’m your man for as long as you need my help.”

Miss Parker considered, and then put out her left hand to him. Startled, he took her hand in his. “I may not be able to give you what you really want, and I probably won’t say anything about this again for a very long time,” she said softly, “but I want you know that I do care – a lot. You are big part of what keeps my world straight and running smoothly. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Sam was beyond touched. She’d given him everything he’d wanted of her and then some. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She pulled her hand back. “I need you to do a few favors for me. I need a cell phone – a new one, with no connection to the Centre at all. You can use my credit card – I’ll give you a note authorizing your signature.”

Sam nodded. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. I need some clothes, for when I’m released tomorrow - hopefully.” Her eyes showed she appreciated both the humor and the awkwardness of the situation. “Everything from the ground on up, if you know what I mean. Can you handle it?”

Sam gazed at his boss evenly. “Yes, ma’am,” he stated with assurance. “I can handle whatever you need me to do.”

~~~~~~~~~*

Phil Carew threw the last suitcase into the back end of his beat-up station wagon and looked around him. The sun was setting in more ways than one.

News of Lyle’s arrest had nearly paralyzed the Centre operations – and from the glances and looks from the others, Phil knew that the likelihood of his being able to continue to work there under a Miss Parker administration were bleak at best. After all, it would have been HIS voice on the phone to the Salt Lake City office, demanding the best team of sweepers/cleaners to handle a rushed-through termination order lacking all the normal protocols. It would be reported that it was he who had implemented Lyle’s order to gas the entire ventilation system in an attempt to flush out Angelo.

Before Raines’ death, Willy had been one of the most feared and hated sweepers in the entire corporation – because Willy had been the one to see to it that Raines’ least request was acted upon. He, Phil Carew, had in just a few days managed to accrue a similar reputation and response from his fellow Centre employees. And now that the man who had enabled his assumption of authority was out of the picture completely, he was an unwanted reminder of the depths to which he’d sunk in order to follow instructions.

There would be no recommendation forthcoming to any future employer from the Centre, which had kept him on the payroll for nearly fifteen years. He was out of a job, and not likely to find another soon with similar pay and benefits, much less authority. What was more, word had it that Miss Parker was intending to close the Centre anyway. Even if he had a position to hang onto without Lyle’s direct sponsorship, he’d be out in the cold soon enough anyway – he might as well move along before someone came and told him to get lost.

Phil climbed behind the wheel of his car and backed out of the parking space that was associated with his apartment. The landlord could just figure out some way to deal with the furniture that he’d left behind. There wasn’t enough investment in it to make it worth his time trying to sell it himself before leaving.

The drive to the edge of Blue Cove took less than a minute, and Phil didn’t look once in the rearview mirror. The world ahead of him was cold and empty, but it was all he had to look forward to. It would have to do.

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