Parker 05 - The Darkness (31 page)

Paulina lifted her shirt to reveal a deep red burn mark,

several inches long. Abigail and Pam both sucked in

their breath.

"Mom..." she said.

"That doesn't matter now," Paulina said. "You told me

you didn't post that photo, it doesn't go public, and yet

somehow Pam ends up with a copy."

"What the hell is she talking about?" Abigail said to

Pam.

Pamela stuttered. "Okay, I wanted a copy for myself.

So what? You looked gorgeous, Abby. I thought it was

kind of romantic."

"And then Sam deleted the memory card, right?"

Paulina said.

"I saw her do it," Abigail said. "She had a set of her

ex-boyfriend on there and erased the entire memory card."

"So if you two are the only ones who had a copy of

the photo," Paulina said, "can you explain to me why a

man who threatened my daughter's life had one, too?"

Abby stared at Pamela, the girl's mouth flopping open

and closed.

"I..." Pamela said.

"Pam," Abigail said, her voice trembling. "Pam, did

you do something?"

Tears began to flow down Abigail Cole's cheeks, and

Paulina felt her heart ache at the sight of this. She knew

exactly how this was going to play out, but there was nothing

that could steel her for the sight of her daughter crying.

"How much did he give you?" Paulina said.

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"What?" Pam said. Not that she didn't hear, but that

she wasn't expecting the question.

"Or did he threaten you, too?"

"Pam?" Abigail said. "Pam, please tell me..."

Pamela looked at Abigail, then back at Paulina. She

composed herself, uncrossed her legs and set them on the

floor.

"He came up to me one day, after econ," Pam said, her

eyes on Abigail. "At first he was really nice and kind,

saying he was a friend of your mom's. Then he told me

he wanted a picture of you. A picture nobody else had.

Something private so that when Abby saw it, she'd know

it was special. He told me with a private photo, you'd both

know how serious he was. I still don't know how he knew

we were together..."

"Your blog," Paulina said. "He knew he could get to

me through Abigail, and he could get to Abigail through

you. You made it all public for him. You made it easy."

"He offered me ten thousand dollars!" Pamela

screamed. "I'm on financial aid. I'm going to have six

figures in debt by the time I leave this stupid place. He told

me he was going to give it to you as a present. I thought,

I don't know, that he was your boyfriend or something."

"Are you stupid," Abigail said, wiping at her nose, "or

just ignorant?"

Pam stared daggers at her, then softened. "I never

thought it would hurt you."

"You didn't think about her," Paulina said. "Only you

and that money. So don't give us the 'I never thought it

would hurt you' bull. You just pocketed the dough and

crossed your fingers."

"Pam?" Abigail said. Her face was a wreck, tears flowing down in rivulets, eyes red and devastated. Paulina

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257

closed her eyes for a moment, and hated herself for what

she'd done.

"What, Abby?"

"Pam, did you...did you give him that picture?"

"Abby, please, I--"

Abigail screamed, "Did you give him that picture or

not?"

Pam looked at her girlfriend, nodded once, and that

was all she had to do.

"I want you to leave," Abigail said, looking at Pam.

"Abby, I--"

"Right now. Or I call the cops."

Pam began to sob, too, but surprisingly Abigail's tears

had stopped running.

"I love you," Pam said.

"No, you don't," came Abigail's reply. "Just leave."

Pam stood up. Before leaving, she stared down Paulina, who returned the gaze.

"Don't you even think about staring me down, you

little bitch. You do this to my family and you want to hate

me? Get the hell away from here and don't ever speak to

Abigail again."

Pam looked like she'd been slapped. Before she left,

she took out her cell phone and turned back to Paulina.

"What's your phone number?" she said.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I need your cell phone number."

"I'm not giving you any..."

"I took a picture of him. With my phone camera. When

he was walking away, I took a picture of him. I don't

know why I did it, maybe I wanted to remember what he

looked like. I just wanted to send it to you. Maybe it'll

help you find him."

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Paulina's anger multiplied, and every part of her wanted

to curse this girl out and tell her to leave. But that photo

could come in handy. So she gave Pamela the number.

The girl plugged it in to her cell phone, and a moment

later Paulina's phone chirped. She opened the message,

and found a grainy photo on the screen.

It was him. No doubt about it. Paulina shivered, remembering the man's face as he tore the picture of Abby

to shreds, threatening to end her daughter's life as easily

as he defaced her image.

The picture was a profile of the man, from his left side.

She recognized the wavy blond hair, the eyes. She had to

give Pam a little credit for being smart enough to take it,

but it was far too little and way too late.

"Now go," Abigail said. So Pam turned and left.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Paulina said. "I know this must

have been hard for you, but I'm going to get this guy."

"I want you to leave, too."

Paulina stood there for a moment, stunned.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me, Mom. I want you to leave, too. And I

don't want to speak to you again. Not for a long time."

"Abby, baby, I came here to help you. You needed to

know the truth."

"And now I do. So you can leave."

Abigail went to the small fridge/microwave combination and pulled a beer out. She twisted the cap, grimacing

as the top dug into her palm.

"This was for your own good. I'm just trying to help.

Abby, please, let me stay."

"You did what you came here to do. I bet when all this

is over you'll have a hell of a story, and I can tell all my

friends what a great reporter my mom is. But I don't

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want to see you right now. So please, please leave. Don't

make me ask again. I don't want to cry anymore."

Paulina felt her face grow hot, her eyes beginning to

water as she stared at her daughter, hating every word

she'd said but deep down, in some way, understanding it,

too. She knew the night would come to this, that these

revelations would destroy her daughter's relationship. It

had to be done, Paulina knew, and she'd have to deal

with being the messenger.

She would take the misplaced anger, and she would

let her daughter cool down over time even though it

would kill her every second she thought about what

might have happened.

And that, Paulina thought, walking out the door, dabbing at her eyes with a tailored sleeve, was what she

supposed being a mother was all about.

35

"Major Chester A. Malloy," Jack said. He was holding

in his hand a printout of all the information we could find

regarding Malloy. And it didn't make us feel any better.

Jack's eyes were wide as he read, scanning the print.

I wondered if he was as nervous as I was.

"According to his file," Jack said, "Chester A. Malloy

was a member of the Special Operations Task Force assembled in 1989 to overthrow Manuel Noriega's control

of Panama. Along with ten other members of his unit, Operational Detachment Bravo, Major Malloy encountered

a brigade of the Panama Defense Force, where several

members of their squad were killed. The rest of the squad

was returned to the U.S. after Noriega's capture, and

that's where the trail ends."

"So what the hell is a goddamn Special Forces major

doing kidnapping New York journalists?" I said.

"Look at this," Jack said. We huddled over his computer, where nearly a dozen Internet searches were pulled

up. Jack pointed to one, a photograph of eleven young

men and women, identified in a military photo as the

Bravo unit. I read the names.

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261

Franklin K. Loughlin.

Andros I. Browning.

Roy Winnick.

Eve S. Ramos.

Chester A. Malloy.

Rex M. Malloy.

Wendy C. DiBonaventura.

Harrison L. Daughterty.

Shonda P. Williamson.

Emmett R. Douglas.

Bill E. Hollinsworth.

Chester A. Malloy, along with the rest of his team, was

wearing his Special Forces uniform. Green sport jacket over

white shirt. Black tie. Nameplate on the right of his chest.

All the uniforms were decorated with various medals and

pins, and they all wore their Green Beret caps raised to the

left, the signature of their division of the Special Forces.

Standing to the left of Chester Malloy was a man named

Rex Malloy. According to the documents, Rex Malloy

was Chester's younger brother by three years. They were

both members of Special Forces, both Green Berets.

And both had looks on their faces as serious and

deadly as a man who threatens to kill a teenage girl.

I pointed at Chester Malloy.

"Nice and blond," I said. "That's our man."

"Hey, Mr. Cottontail," Jack said, smiling.

Just then I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. I

pulled it out, saw I had a new message. Not a voice mail,

but a text message. It was from Paulina, and it contained

an attachment.

I opened the note. It said: Taken one month ago by

Pam Ruffalo. This is our guy.

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"I'll be a monkey's uncle," Jack said.

"Wow. I haven't heard anyone say that since the sixties."

"Oldie but a goodie."

"That one either. Hold on, I'll enlarge it."

I plugged the phone into my computer and waited for

the image to download. When it finished, I opened it up

and enlarged the shot.

It was a grainy image, taken with some sort of low-res

camera or cell phone. The man could be seen from his

left side. Only the left side of his body and face were

visible. What was visible, though, was that shock of wavy

blond hair.

"Holy crap," Jack said. "Look at this."

He pointed to the photo of Chester Malloy in the army

photograph.

"That's not the same guy as in this photo," Jack said.

"Look at his ear."

"I don't see it," I said. "What, is there an old earring

hole or something?"

"Didn't you ever wrestle?" Jack said.

"Uh, no. I watched a little WWF when I was growing up."

"That's as close to real wrestling as Harvey Hillerman's hair plugs are to the real deal. No, look closely at

Chester Malloy's ear in the earlier photo, and then

compare it to the ear in this new one."

I did, and while I couldn't be sure, it looked like the ear

in the recent shot was slightly puffy, slightly deformed.

"That's called cauliflower ear," Jack said. "Wrestlers

get it all the time. It's when fluid collects in the ear, causing

the cartilage to die and harden. The result ain't pretty, but

it's kind of a badge of honor for a lot of wrestlers. Unless

you treat it right away, drain the fluid, it's not going away.

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263

Chester Malloy doesn't have cauliflower ear in this new

photo. But look who does in the earlier one."

I stared intently at the military shot, and clear as day

was the left ear of Rex Malloy. It was deformed, puffy,

just like the ear in the later shot.

"This means that the person in this recent photo wasn't

Chester Malloy," Jack said, "but his brother Rex. My

guess is Rex was a wrestler before joining the army, and

he had the bad ear when this photo was taken."

"And notice something else?" I said.

"And look at Rex's hair in this photo," Jack replied.

"It's not blond."

"That'd be a fine shade of black," I said. "And it's

straight, not wavy at all."

"That means that it wasn't Chester Malloy who kidnapped Paulina," Jack said. "It was Rex, all dolled up to

look like his brother."

"So if that's Rex Malloy in the picture, and it was Rex

who took Paulina, where is Chester Malloy?"

"That's the million-dollar question, sport."

"So we're back to this again," I said.

"Until further notice," Jack replied. "So Rex Malloy

grew out his hair, dyed it blond, gave himself a nice perm

and is now going by his brother's name."

"Come on, who doesn't do that?"

"I have a brother. Name is Roy. Man's got a head

balder than an eight ball and smells worse than Oscar the

Grouch. If I ever dressed like him, you'd have permission

to throw me off the nearest suspension bridge."

"That would make sense. Paulina told me the man

who kidnapped her insinuated that he'd lost someone.

Maybe he was referring to his brother," I said. "It looks

like he's purposefully dressing just like his brother