The Parker Trilogy

by Tony Faggioli

  Parker chuckled. Juan hadn’t seen The Gray Angel either. Only he had, and maybe Melon. Parker only had a brief moment alone with Melon when they first came out of the house, and he’d asked him, point blank, but Melon had blown him off with a shrug. Like maybe it was something they’d talk about another day. Or maybe never. Melon had never been religious and there was no reason to think he’d suddenly seen the light . . . even if he had.

  The poor women held captive in the delivery truck were given bottled water and told that there was no time to waste, that they had to get everyone out of there as quickly as possible, and that meant one more ride in the back of the dark truck. But they were assured that they were safely in the hands of the authorities now, and that they’d each eventually be taken to their respective embassies and reunited with their families soon. The old hags and the other injured prisoners were treated, then zip-tied and piled into the back of one pickup truck, all the dead into the back of two others. The lone goat in the house was loaded back into the other delivery truck, which also had a cow, sheep and pigs in it. Parker shook his head. It was lunacy.

  From there, the house, barn and all the cars were set on fire. It was a classic CIA cleanse job.

  Both delivery trucks were then driven off by two of the men who’d come with Juan and the other pickups followed. No one tried to take Güero. They knew better.

  Parker, Melon, Maggie and Luisa were in the bed of the final pickup now, having split off from the main group just after leaving the property. They were making a beeline for the border, with Juan behind the wheel and Güero stuffed in the extra cab behind the seats. During the five-hour drive, an escort car in front and behind them, they ate granola bars, drank water and made small talk.

  Luisa’s head was in Maggie’s lap and she was sound asleep. One of the men who’d piled out of the trucks during the clean-up identified himself as a doctor. After checking Luisa’s vitals and determining that she was in no imminent danger, he agreed to radio ahead to make sure she would get further medical attention and more tests as soon as they got to the border.

  Now, at last, the US border in sight beneath the setting sun, they all seemed to relax. The small talk turned into thanks and congratulations. Then Melon had to open his mouth.

  “Man. Don’t you two make for a handsome couple?” he teased, looking over at Parker and Maggie.

  An awkward silence followed as Maggie and Parker looked at each other, then laughed it off. Parker had, indeed, given Ms. Kincaid a good once over. She was beautiful, with coffee colored eyes that kind of made him nervous, but truth be told, it was the confidence with which she’d snapped that stick in half, back at that house, while actually looking for a fight that had made him take notice of her even more. But noticing was one thing, and well, Trudy was his everything.

  “Nah,” Parker said, making an ugly face.

  Maggie raised her eyebrows in mock defensiveness. “Um. Excuse me?”

  “I mean. You’re beautiful and all, for a blond. But there’s a redhead in Napa right now that owns my heart and always will,” Parker said.

  “Wow! There it is!” Melon chimed in. Then, waving his hand in front of him like an actor in a play, he said with dramatic flair, “Cupid’s arrow doth strike both deep and true!”

  Maggie squinted at Parker, looking a tad incredulous but not angry. “Well, Mr. Parker. You’re not half bad yourself. But answer me one question, just for kicks.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What’s your favorite book?”

  Looking surprised by the question, Parker mulled it over for a moment, then replied, “Hmm. Ya know . . . I don’t really read much.”

  Maggie smirked. “I figured as much. Never would’ve worked out anyway, then.”

  “Ohhhhhhh, daaamn. Snap!” Luisa said from out of nowhere, a big smile on her face, obviously not asleep anymore.

  Melon roared with laughter, and Parker did too. Maggie joined them, and as she did, Parker noticed her look at Luisa before she let out a long sigh of relief.

  When they finally crossed the border, a posse of black Lincolns awaited along with US Border Control trucks and a few ambulances. Standing in front of one of the Lincolns, with her arms crossed, was a blond woman with cropped hair that Maggie had never seen before. The woman waited until everyone was unloaded before she walked over and spoke to Parker. “Where is he?” she said, with no other greeting.

  Parker motioned his head to Melon, who roughly unpacked a bitching and moaning Güero from inside the extra cab.

  “What the hell is this? I want my lawyer!” Güero spat.

  “I’m sure you do,” the woman said. “But I’d like to introduce myself first. I’m FBI Agent Olivia Clopton.”

  Güero wrinkled his face with disgust. “I don’t give a shit who you—”

  Clopton stepped forwards, closing the gap between them swiftly, and drove her knee directly into his groin. “Oops,” she said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Martinez.”

  Collapsing to his knees, Güero began to curse. “You puta! No food. No water. Now police brutality. Keep adding it up, you dumb bitch! I’ll be out of jail in no time.”

  Luisa clutched Maggie’s hand in fear. Maggie squeezed her hand back but also shook her head to tell Luisa it was okay.

  There was something about Agent Clopton, a cold sort of focus. Slowly, she crouched down in front of Güero and used her index finger to lift his chin as he gasped a little for air. “You want to add things up, Mr. Martinez? Why don’t we do that? Right now, I have eleven women ready to testify against you. Two that will testify that you were there when they were boxed up like animals to be shipped across state lines, four that have run your little sex warehouses for the last three years, four more that you’ve raped, and one—” Her voice cracked ever so slightly. “One who lived a special kind of nightmare thanks to you. Do you wanna know why?”

  Güero shook his head.

  “Of course, you don’t, you cowardly piece of shit. So, while you massage your balls down there, I’m gonna tell you anyway.” She did. And as Maggie listened to the story of a young girl, kept in the dark, forced to count the number of hands on her to have any chance of knowing how many men were raping her at the same time, she shook her head. When Clopton was done, she sneered at Güero. “You made a big mistake with her, though, tough guy. Wanna know why? Her real name? It’s Alejandra. And guess what? She’s a US citizen.”

  Güero squinted at her in surprise.

  “You grabbed her from Ecuador, from a little town where they eat taper and make bright clay pottery. She told me that, while giving me her statements. Multiple statements, actually. She was in that town, but she was born in the US. Her family moved here but then got freaked out by the American dream and moved right back. How’s that for a twist? But a citizen is a citizen here, for life, unless they change their citizenship. Alejandra never did. So . . . what do you think the grand jury felt when they heard her testimony?”

  It was twilight, and everything was still. They were in a dirt parking lot, away from the border crossing, the sound of all the cars and semitrucks from the nearby highway still loud enough to create a steady roar. Parker shifted his weight from one boot to the next as Melon leaned against the front of the pickup truck with Juan. Three other men, Maggie assumed they were FBI agents, stood nearby with a half dozen Border Patrol agents.

  Güero shot his head up in defiance. “You can’t prove shit—”

  “Your men in the Long Beach port are flipping. The San Pedro men are gonna get word of that and start singing, too. We’ve got agents in San Francisco right now raiding two of your sex warehouses there, and funny thing is, the more we find? I think that eleven women is gonna turn to twenty, then fifty. Man, we might even crack a hundred. And then there’s Luisa and Maggie here and how they’ll testify to being kidnapped and brutalized. A pregnant kid and her social worker? Oh. Man. You are so done.”

  “You had no right to come across the border. My lawyer will eat you—”

&
nbsp; “Your friends in Mexico don’t want anything to do with you anymore. Strings are being pulled. Papers are being signed. As soon as we had you, for sure, it was over.”

  Güero looked around at them all and then dropped his eyes slowly to the ground.

  “Ahhhh,” Clopton said. “You see that, everyone? That is the look of defeat.”

  She stood and gave a quick nod at the men around her. They all immediately picked Güero up and whisked him off to one of the cars.

  Clopton looked at Maggie. “You’re Maggie Kincaid, I take it?”

  Maggie nodded and cleared her throat. “I am.”

  “Hell of a job you did over there. Beyond commendable.”

  “Thank you,” Maggie said.

  Turning to look at Parker, Clopton said, “We’ll talk more later, but you didn’t do half bad yourself.”

  Parker smiled and shook his head. “Aw, shucks . . . I have my moments, I guess. And I couldn’t have done it without my trusty sidekick here.”

  “Hey, man. Don’t be starting with no sidekick bullshit,” Melon said.

  They all laughed.

  Clopton looked at Parker. “Regardless? I’ll give you this much,” she said, a tiny smirk coming over her face. “You’re fun to color with, Parker.”

  She walked to one of the Lincolns and got in. It drove away with the rest of the vehicles.

  The ambulance technicians walked over.

  “We should get Luisa to the hospital and checked out now,” Maggie said to Parker.

  He nodded. “Fair enough. Juan here is going to drive us into San Diego. I guess this is goodbye. But you work at Eden Hill Shelter, right?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “I used to work right down the street at Hollenbeck Station. I know a lot of guys there who run into a lot of women who could use your help. I’ll make sure they send them your way if they already aren’t.”

  “That’d be great,” Maggie said with a nod. Then she went with Luisa to the ambulance and they both hopped in.

  She asked one of the EMTs, a black woman with a round, gentle face, if she could borrow her cell phone. Luisa wanted to call her mom, and Maggie desperately wanted to call Julie.

  As the ambulance drove away, Maggie looked out the back window. The man named Parker and the man named Melon were hugging each other while Juan was motioning for them to get in the truck.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Hector had just freed Curtis from the table when his friend gasped at something behind him. Hector knew who it was before he even turned around: The Gray Man.

  Curtis had evidently reached his limit. Who could blame him, really? Falling to his knees in awe, he only managed one word. “What . . .?”

  Hector was about to try and answer him when The Gray Man shook his head and looked at Curtis. “You will not remember any of this,” he said sternly, “save one thing. Are you listening?”

  His eyes wide and his jaw slack, Curtis nodded.

  “He,” The Gray Man said, pointing at Hector, “helped to save you today, but not only in the way you think. Right now, at this very minute, a million other people who have committed the sin of murder are getting a chance to repent. Do you understand?”

  Curtis’ face melted as his eyes glistened. Again, he nodded.

  The Gray Man disagreed. “I’m not sure you do. So let me be clear. You, Curtis Ruvelcaba, are one of those million people he has given that chance to.”

  Hector had never, ever seen Curtis get emotional, but he began to cry uncontrollably. Something must’ve happened to him. On the inside. Deep down.

  “Now you understand.” The Gray Man looked at all the chaos around them, stood firmly and moved his right hand in a semicircle, fingers splayed, from right to left, right to left, right to left. Reality stuttered and shuttered. Now it was Hector’s turn to be slack-jawed.

  Time was reversing. One jerky half-twist at a time, like ungreased gears, slowly, to the moment before the appearance of The Black-Veiled Nurse. Suddenly, Hector found himself trapped back in his cell.

  Then, time resumed.

  Outside, the other inmates were squawking and shouting normally as they formed into their chow lines for the cafeteria.

  “So, what now?” Hector asked.

  The Gray Man’s image held as he looked at him. “Now, it’s time for you to make a decision.”

  “A decision?”

  “Yes. To go or to stay.”

  “You mean . . .”

  “Here or the next life, yes, Hector.”

  Hector stared solemnly out of his cell at the stark prison life outside. Then, looking around his little cell, his eyes fell on his copy of West with the Night. He realized that he really would’ve liked to have finished that book.

  “I dunno why, but this decision is harder than I thought it would be,” he finally said.

  “Why is that, do you think?”

  “I dunno. There’s still . . .”

  “Still, what?”

  After a second or two, Hector looked at him. “I’m not sure I’m done here. Does that make any sense?”

  The Gray Man took a deep breath. “What do you mean? In what way?”

  “Hey . . .” Hector said with a smile. “You’re still trying to train me, aren’t you?”

  “No, not really.” The Gray Man smiled back. “This decision is yours and yours alone, son. I’m just curious.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay. If you say so. But if I’m honest, something’s holding me back.”

  The Gray Man crossed his arms and leaned casually against the bars. “And what do you think that is?”

  Hector mulled the question over for a few moments. “When all the chaos and misery was breaking out in the cell block earlier? I looked around at everyone . . . and in the middle of all that madness? Man. I could see, Gray, like, really see. Past all the fake faces and macho attitudes. I saw a bunch of men, in pain, facing death and . . . I think I saw into them, too, ya know?”

  “How so?” The Gray Man asked encouragingly.

  “I think I saw who they were and what they are . . . yeah . . . but also how they got here. So much hurt and regret, for so many different reasons, eating them all up on the inside. So much resentment and pride, keeping them from healing or asking for help. And maybe I’m crazy, but I actually think I can help them. Probably not all of them. But some.”

  “The light shines brightest in the darkest places, Hector.”

  “I know that now. It’s scary, but I know it. And, well, there’s something else . . .”

  “What’s that?” The Gray Man asked. But the tone of his voice was like that of a math teacher who already knew where his pupil was headed in the equation.

  “That image of Marisol that I saw, in the wheelchair? Was that real?”

  The Gray Man nodded. “I’m afraid it was.”

  Sadness crushed his heart. Hector leaned his forehead against the bars. “I want to write to her. To say I’m sorry,” he said. “She might throw the letter in the trash, and I wouldn’t blame her. But I’ve gotta try, man, to make what I did right. Or at least to make it not so horribly wrong as it is now.”

  Hector was stunned to see The Gray Man look away suddenly, his lower lip trembling. Was he crying? Was that even possible?

  “The thing is,” Hector pushed on, now getting emotional himself, “I can’t believe I did what I did, Gray. I just can’t. And I can never forgive myself.”

  “You may, someday.”

  “If she forgives me? Maybe. Maybe then, right? And she may never. But I’ve got to try, right?”

  Again, The Gray Man nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” Hector added, not really knowing why.

  “Do not be sorry,” The Gray Man replied in a soft voice. Looking at Hector intently, he sighed. “Incredible.”

  “What?”

  “Now, I know why you are my final one, Hector. You, a hopeless, hapless murderer, are showing the true depth of humanity. The hidden, perhaps sometimes even denied, truth that each on
e of you can be a “one,” of sorts. Because each one of you has sinned and yet each one of you still has the ability to help each other. And that’s what you can do here with the other inmates. But there’s also that question of . . .” The Gray Man’s voice caught in his throat, before he finished. “Love.”

  “Yeah. Exactly,” Hector said as his eyes filled with tears. “I love her so much, bro. I love her so much that I can’t let go yet. Do you understand that? Can you possibly understand that?”

  The Gray Man reached out and put a hand on Hector’s shoulder. “Oh, yes,” he said, solemnly. “I do. More than you could ever imagine.”

  Then, he gave Hector a hug, which was warm, like the distant heat from a thousand stars. “I have to go now, Hector.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I’m out of time. And there’s someone I’ve been waiting a long time to see. But before I go, I want you to have something.”

  Hector looked up as The Gray Man gently took both of his hands in his own and held them firm. “You have time, Hector, for redemption. You will need help, some good reading, if you will. I’ll even send you my favorite book. But in the meantime? You have chosen to stay in a place where many others need redemption as well. There will be good days here and bad days. And as for Marisol?”

  “Y-y-yeah,” Hector sobbed gently.

  “You are correct. The gap between the two of you may be too wide to ever bridge, son. Sometimes it’s simply never meant to be. Sometimes the divide we are meant to bridge is only within ourselves, and many times, when we cannot count on the forgiveness of those we have wronged? We must learn to accept what it means to truly forgive ourselves and let go. It’s okay, Hector, to love . . . and to endure the pain of having a broken heart. Because good can still come of it, one day. It can. And do you want to know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because, Hector . . .” The Gray Man paused, then put something in Hector’s hands. “A broken heart is an open heart.”