“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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Jason Pinter
“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.
“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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Jason Pinter
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
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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Jason Pinter
“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