Marcia Talley - Through the Darkness

Paul hit the mute. “This is simply dreadful. Does Eva know, I wonder?”

“She has to know, Paul. She’s been married to the man for over twenty years.”

“I mean, does she know about this program?”

“Surely Roger told her about the broadcast, and if he was stupid enough not to, I imagine she’ll know shortly. Her phone will be ringing off the hook.”

Ruth, a loyal parishioner of First Presbyterian, didn’t know Eva Haberman. “This could ruin her marriage.”

“Marriage? Ruth, she’s a priest. This could ruin her life!”

“Ladies! The show’s on.”

Mitch was on camera again, talking with Roger. “This is being taped for the record, you know, and for broadcast on Cross Current on NBC.”

Now that he knew the cameras were there, Roger tugged on the bill of his ballcap and turned his face away. “Oh, no, guy. No.”

“But if there’s anything else you want to say?”

Roger dipped his head. “Nothing.”

We sat in numb silence for the rest of the hour, watching Mitch and his crew nab a rabbi, a soccer coach, a pediatrician, a school bus driver, and a guy who worked at the airport for TSA.

“So what happens now?” Mitch was wrapping it up. “As they always do with law enforcement, the volunteers from PredatorBeware have turned over all of their online evidence, from the pornographic photos to transcripts of the online chats, to the Child Sex Crimes unit at the Montgomery County Police Department, which is actively looking at some of these cases. Predator-Beware has also posted the men’s pictures and entire chat logs, including their phone numbers, on their website, PredatorBeware.com.”

Jeeze Laweese! Would I have the stomach to visit their website and read the details of Roger’s chat with Cyndi? Of course I would, but I’d hate myself for it.

When the show was over and Ruth had returned to the home she shared with Hutch a few blocks away on Conduit Street, I rummaged in the kitchen cabinet behind the spices, where I’d kept my prescription medications since the grandkids came into our lives. I found one bright yellow sleeping capsule left over from my postreconstructive surgery. It had expired two years ago. I washed it down with a slug of club soda. It was the only way I could think of to get some sleep.

The Feds moved fast, you had to give them that. Atseven the following morning Dante telephoned us to report that the children wouldn’t be going to school that day. He was driving them to the FBI office up in Baltimore to be formally interviewed. Although it would have been hard to refuse the FBI, I was relieved Dante hadn’t dragged his feet on the matter. I took that as sign he had nothing to hide.

Our son-in-law arrived looking fashionably casual in clean chinos, a blue open-collared shirt, and loafer-style leather boat shoes. In response to my question about the woman at Ben and Jerry’s, Dante replied, “I told Agent Crisp that I didn’t notice anyone speaking to the kids, but I had my back to them while I ordered. It was kinda complicated. Chloe’s very picky about her sprinkles.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, remembering that the brown sprinkles couldn’t touch the red and white sprinkles, or we’d have to scrape them all off and start all over again.

“But if there’s the slightest chance this woman was stalking us…” Dante’s voice trailed off.

“Have they interviewed your neighbors?” I asked. “If she were stalking the kids, maybe someone saw her hanging around the neighborhood.”

Dante took a deep breath, let it out. “Agent Brown was talking to the neighbors yesterday, but nobody reported seeing anything unusual, I’m afraid.”

“Any strange cars?”

“Nope.”

I touched his cheek. “You look so tired, Dante.”

“I was up half the night listening to Emily rave on about Roger Haberman.”

“I tossed and turned, too. What a total shock. Did Erika tell you what her connection with the show was?”

“Erika’s already at the house, but I didn’t have time to ask. She and Emily have their heads together in the kitchen, plotting something.” He sighed and leaned back against the door frame. “Frankly, if it will keep Emily occupied and distract her from her grief over Timmy, even for a moment, I’ll be thankful.”

“Still no ransom demand?”

“No. And this late in the game, the police doubt that there will be. And that means they’ll be closing up shop at our place within a day or two.”

Closing up shop . That was a blow. But then, we could hardly expect the FBI to stay at the house forever.

I steered the conversation toward less land-mine-strewn territory. “The kids have had some Froot Loops, and Chloe is helping Jake get dressed. Would you like some coffee while I go up and check on them?”

“Please.”

“You know where everything is.”

“Sure.”

I had been thinking it was time to send the children home to their parents, particularly with the FBI presence no longer dominating the scene. But as I watched Dante carry his burdens down the hallway, practically dragging himself into the kitchen, I knew I couldn’t do it. Chloe and Jake would be our houseguests for the foreseeable future.

After Dante drove off with the children, I hightailed it over to Emily’s, praying that Erika would still be there. I was dying to talk to her about Cross Current the previous evening.

Dante was right. While Agent Crisp and Ron Powers conferred at the large oak table in the dining room, Emily and Erika huddled in the kitchen, hunched over the computer monitor. They glanced up briefly at my hi-how-are-ya , but otherwise barely acknowledged my arrival.

“Put in 21401,” Emily instructed Erika, who was driving the keyboard.

“Ten predators in that zip code,” Erika said as she worked the mouse, “but Roger Haberman isn’t one of them.”

Still dressed in her pink terry-cloth Paradiso bathrobe, Emily leaned forward. “Try 21403.”

Erika tapped away, then fell back in her chair. “He’s not there, either.”

Erika looked up at me as if noticing me for the first time. “Will you please explain to me, Hannah, why Roger Haberman isn’t registered in the Maryland Sex Offenders Registry as required by Maryland law?”

“You’re asking me ?”

“What slime!” Emily made a face. “And to think I actually attended church with that man! He served me punch at the Christmas party! I shook his hand at the Paradiso party! Gross!”

“I wonder what’s going to happen to Roger now that he’s been outed?”

Emily stood up, tightened the belt of her bathrobe around her waist, and smiled with satisfaction. “PredatorBeware has turned over the transcripts of their conversation with him to the Maryland authorities. Hopefully they’ll arrest him, and lock him away so he can’t traumatize any more children.”

“Mitch Harmon only touched on this in last night’s special, Erika, but how on earth does PredatorBeware avoid being accused of entrapment by these guys once their cases go to trial?”

“The creeps hang themselves, Hannah. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course.”

“Let me show you our website.”

“Our?”

“I like to keep a low profile, but yes, I’ve been working with PredatorBeware for several years.”

Erika typed in a URL, jabbed the Enter key with her forefinger, and waited for the screen to refresh. “This is the PredatorBeware Web page, and these are some of our latest busts,” she explained, moving her cursor over several green tabs. Each had been labeled with a Yahoo or AOL screen name. Erika moved the cursor over the screen name of one of the latest busts-MDGUY4U-and clicked the link. Several options came up, along with-already!-a link to the Cross Current television show. Erika moved the cursor again, clicked, and I watched in wide-eyed wonder as Roger’s picture materialized on the screen.