"Tell me about my mother."
Those words, delivered point blank to Daddy, after all of Jarod's teasing clues, had only elicited the standard 'she was troubled', 'she was sweet, but sad', and other run-arounds. His body language had been so smooth, but Parker had gotten too used to spotting the con on the make, the lies that people told to get by, and the tiny little nuances of a patented speech.
Daddy gave too many of them, now that Parker was willing to look beyond the exterior. She wants to rail and curse and throw a tantrum, just to see if it will shock him out of his decorum.
Saying them to Sydney had produced a different effect.
"You know I cannot breach patient confidentiality, Parker."
Here the tell-tales were different. There was a professional distance, but beneath it, because she has grown to know Sydney better than she ever wanted, there was more. There was grief, respect, even possibly a sense that he would have changed places with her. It struck a blow to her ice-cold nature, because she let Sydney get under her skin.
Then Jarod threw her another bone, and they were off chasing him, chasing clues, piecing together a mystery that Parker wished her heart would let her drop. If only she was as cast-iron in her sentiments as everyone else at the Centre, then she could let the past go.
All it took, though, was one death, in front of her, a man that would have killed her knowingly, to make her aware that she no longer wanted to be that cold. If she were, then everything she had learned her mother was trying to do would have been for nothing.
Kyle's death changed the rules on her, but under the ice, her heart beat stronger with a need to know.