The Darkness hp-5 Page 21

And they were working, according to that Leonard guy, the slow shift.

  If all his calculations were correct, and this enterprise had as many teams as Morgan supposed they did-then this was a billion-dollar industry.

  To be a part of something like that, with potential for rapid growth, you didn’t take any chances.

  It was unbelievable to think that Ken Tsang, who was a relatively smart guy as far as Morgan was concerned, would be stupid enough to rat out his partner. At first, when Morgan found out he was dead, there was a fleeting moment of remorse, of sadness. Now, he thought of Ken

  Tsang like a homeless person you saw on the street.

  Nothing more than pity, nothing less than scorn because whatever predicament they were in, it was most certainly of their own doing.

  Morgan’s tongue tasted nothing, and he laughed, realizing he’d finished his beer several minutes ago.

  For the last few months, Morgan Isaacs had spent his ights on the couch, sitting alone, tipping back beers and watching basketball games with teams he didn’t give a rat’s ass about. The nights usually did not end until around three o’clock in the morning, when, tired of infomercials and out of snacks, Morgan would pass out on his sofa, covered in a thin blanket, where he would sleep until the sun woke him up midday.

  It was a sad, dreary existence, but Morgan felt to some extent that this was his penance, a punishment for not living up to the promise he’d seen in himself.

  How could he be a confident boyfriend-or lover at all-with no income? How could he buy a girl a drink knowing that he was three months behind on his credit card payments? How could he buy his buddies a round when there was a chance the card would be declined?

  None of that existed anymore.

  Morgan’s first paycheck would give him more than financial breathing room. It would give him his life back.

  Morgan picked up his cell phone, scrolled through his address book until he found her name. And then

  Morgan smiled. Svetlana. When in doubt, go with the

  Russian model.

  Svetlana was beautiful and nearly six feet in heels, with jet-black hair, legs that were longer than a New York

  City lamppost, and a body that would make Putin himself kneel and beg for mercy.

  She was a tough one. Her father was a doctor, and he’d been killed recently or something, and Svetlana refused to ever discuss it. Not that Morgan minded; if anything he preferred that they keep their relationship as uncomplicated as possible.

  The sex was freaking mind-blowing, and damned if he didn’t miss that the most. And now that he could treat her again like he did in the old days (well, at least he was getting there), he felt that sizzle, that confidence that had been robbed from him all coming back.

  He dialed the number and held it to his ear, praying that she wasn’t somewhere without service or, God help him, with another man. If she was, Morgan might just have to kill him.

  “Who is this?” the female voice said on the other end.

  It wasn’t said with any sort of real curiosity, but with anger because she knew exactly who was calling.

  “It’s me, babe,” Morgan said. “What are you doing right now?”

  “What am I doing?” she said. God, he loved that accent. “I am sitting on my ass because my worthless friend Sabina decided to go on a date with some lawyer.

  So I was about to open a bottle of wine when you called.

  Why the hell are you calling, Morgan?”

  “What are you wearing?” he said.

  “What am I wearing? What the hell is wrong with you? Why does that matter?”

  “Because I want you to pick out your hottest outfit right this minute, put it on and meet me at the Kitten Club in half an hour.”

  “And why would I do that?” she asked, her hesitancy melting.

  “Because I’m back, sweetheart, and I’m going to get us both wasted and then I’m going to make you thank

  God you were born a woman.”

  “Morgan?” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  34

  She didn’t remember the drive taking this long. Maybe because last time, time was of the essence. Or maybe last time there was an excitement about seeing her daughter for the first time in months.

  As the yellow lines sped past in a blur, as the trees on

  I-95 merged into one long emerald line, Paulina thought about those days nearly twenty years ago when she first held Abigail in her arms. She was so tiny, so fragile, and

  Paulina remembered breast-feeding her, thinking that this small person was dependent on her for love, for life. And though she’d never wanted that feeling to die, it had done just that a long time ago.

  Paulina had never wanted to be one of those corporate mothers who took a week off for maternity leave, was back in the office like nothing had ever happened while her child was raised and cared for by nannies with calloused hands and heaving bosoms. She never wanted her daughter to grow up hearing somebody else’s voice read her bedtime stories, never wanted her daughter to feel the same sense of loneliness that Paulina had as a little girl.

  Abby would be her daughter forever, and she would not let her daughter grow up without a true mother.

  Of course, life didn’t work out that way. As soon as they wanted her to take on bigger stories, she jumped at the chance. Paulina told herself that it was only for a short period of time, that she would make money and make a name for herself so that when she finally stepped back from the job, she would have created a better life for Abigail.

  But Paulina never stepped back.

  The stories got bigger and bigger, and the chase became intoxicating. And when her name didn’t grow at the pace she wanted it to, she left the Gazette and took a job at their rival. And now, finally, after so long in the trenches of this industry, Paulina was a name, a brand, making the kind of money that she always hoped to.

  Some people said newspapers were a dying industry, but if you wrote what people wanted to read, they’d never bury you. There was always a medium.

  And then one day, Paulina looked back and realized that Abby was gone. A grown woman, a college student, with her own hopes and dreams and desires and loves.

  And Paulina had not been there for any of it.

  Which is why this drive felt like the longest hours of

  Paulina’s life. Because just as she’d reentered Abby’s life the other day, today she was going to pull the shade over a part of Abigail’s life that Paulina had been too busy to realize had even felt sunshine.

  She arrived at the dorm as the sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange hue over the treetops and green grass.

  The red brick of the dorms looked radiant in the glow, and for a moment Paulina had to stand and watch them.

  Then as shadows began to creep across the grounds,

  Paulina locked the car door and prepared herself.

  She walked up to the front door and dialed Abby’s cell.

  She had no idea what her daughter’s schedule was, whether she had evening class, what time she went to dinner, if she had plans to see a movie tonight.

  It didn’t matter. She’d wait at the door all night if she had to.

  Fortunately Abby picked up right away.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Hey, Abby, it’s your mother.”

  “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 gre
en 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?”

  “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.”

  “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 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.

  “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 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 surpri
singly 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.”

  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.