The Darkness (2009)

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The Darkness (2009) Page 25

by Jason - Henry Parker 05 Pinter

“Oh, hey, Mom.” Abby laughed and continued. “You

  know when you said you’d try to call more I didn’t think

  you meant it.”

  “Oh, I meant it,” Paulina said. “In fact, would you

  mind buzzing me in? I’m downstairs.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I’m downstairs. In front of your dorm.”

  “Why are you…”

  “Just let me in, it’s important.”

  “All right, fine, hold on a second.”

  The buzzer rang, and Paulina entered. She made her

  way to Abby’s dorm room and knocked on the door.

  Abigail answered, wearing a green tank top and shorts.

  A bowl of popcorn was on the coffee table and the television was on. The menu of a DVD was on the screen.

  And sitting on the couch was Pam Ruffalo.

  Her brown hair was done up in a ponytail, and she was

  wearing socks without shoes. Her legs were crossed

  underneath her on the couch. She munched popcorn, then

  swallowed it when she saw Paulina standing there.

  She coughed out a kernel and said, “Hi, Ms. Cole.”

  Paulina looked at her. Her eyes widened, and she

  turned to her daughter, pleading.

  “We need to talk alone.”

  “You don’t even say hello back, Mom?”

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  “Hi, Pam. Can you ask her to give us a few minutes?”

  “Why? What the hell is going on now?”

  “Please, Abby, don’t ask me to…”

  “You asked Pam to leave the first time you came here,”

  Abigail said, “and I agreed. I don’t answer to you and I

  never have, so whatever you say to me you can say to her.”

  “Abby, she really shouldn’t…”

  “Mom, I love her. She has a right to know whatever

  you have to say to me.”

  Paulina stepped back, her breath caught in her throat

  for a moment. She looked over at Pamela, a massive grin

  on the young girl’s face at that statement. Abby had a look

  of pride, both at her love for this girl and her confidence

  in telling her mother off.

  “Fine, Abby, if you want to do this by your rules, so

  be it. But remember I asked for privacy.”

  “I’ll remember to tell that to the judge,” Abby said.

  Pam laughed. Paulina had to struggle not to shoot the girl

  a dirty look.

  And then she looked at her daughter, her young, beautiful vibrant daughter, who might never speak to her again

  after today.

  “I found out more about that…issue I talked to you

  about the other day.”

  Abigail placed her hand against the door frame. It

  was clear she’d tried to put it out of her mind, and

  from the change in her stance it looked like she’d succeeded until now.

  “What did you find out?” Abby asked, almost perfunctorily.

  Paulina looked at Pam again, then back at her daughter.

  “Last chance,” she said.

  “Spill it, Mom.”

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  “Okay then. I had some friends look into the photo

  and the album it came from. Did you know Pam here

  had a blog?”

  Abigail smiled, turned to her girlfriend. “Of course I

  did. She showed me every posting before it went up.”

  Pamela blushed and said, “At first I wanted to make

  sure Abby was okay with it. Then she just trusted me.”

  “How sweet,” Paulina said, her voice emotionless.

  “Do you know a girl named Samantha Isringhausen?”

  Abigail squinted, trying to figure her mother out.

  “You’re talking to me like a reporter,” Abigail said. “Asking

  me all these questions like you’re going after a story. ‘Do

  you know this person? Have you heard of such and such?’

  Be an adult, Mom, and tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “Fine,” Paulina said, “but if I’m going to talk to you

  like an adult, you’re going to have to act like one when

  I’m done.”

  “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

  “Your words,” Paulina said. Then she nodded at Pam.

  “Your girlfriend there sold you out.”

  “What?” came the confused cry from both girls.

  “You heard me,” she said.

  “Mom, I swear to God, you and me have never really

  gotten along, but if you ever want to talk to me again

  you’d better have a damn good explanation for this.”

  “I do,” she said, “and take a second to look at your

  ‘girlfriend.’ She doesn’t seem that angry.”

  They both turned to Pamela. The girl’s mouth was wide

  open, but it was more out of protest than surprise. “I don’t

  know what the heck she’s talking about,” Pam said.

  “Samantha Isringhausen,” Paulina said, “took those

  photos at the beach. You then posted the album online.

  All except for one photo. The photo that man showed me

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  the night he threatened your life and burned me to drive

  his point home.”

  “Burned you?” Abigail said. “What are you talking

  about?”

  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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  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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  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 re
st 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

 

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