Purpose

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “The same.”

  “Why there?” Griffin’s heart rate spiked, and his eyes narrowed a few centimeters.

  “It’s one of the largest open spaces in the city.” Will understood the hesitancy but wanted somewhere no one could listen in. “Again, you’ll need to trust me not to hurt you.”

  “Feels like a setup.”

  “No more dangerous than having me walking up unseen. At least you can see me now.” There was still adrenaline pumping through the man’s body, but his heart slowed and his breathing eased.

  “Good point.”

  The drive was short. Twice, Griffin tried to start their conversation, only to be rebuffed. They were doing this on Will’s terms. That much needed to be clear.

  Out in the open would make it much harder to record their meeting. Old habits, for sure. He could easily detect any recording devices being used, but it was still easier outside.

  They parked on 17th Street. “Where to now?”

  “We walk.” Will opened a heavy wrought iron gate, waiting for the detective to join him.

  Griffin shook his head, moved through, and tossed a glare in Will’s direction. “Something about you taking me to a cemetery doesn’t sit right.”

  Will took the lead, walking past the man. “It’s not you that will end up here, Detective, at least not if I have any say.”

  They walked for a minute until Will stopped beside two tall carved wood poles. “Some tribes among the American Indians believed the innocent never rested until their killers were brought to justice.”

  “You brought me here to talk about Indian legends standing under a totem pole?”

  Could the man be that stupid? No, of course he wasn’t. He was scared.

  “No, Detective.” Will continued walking. “I came to make a deal.”

  “I told you once, I don’t deal with criminals.”

  “That’s good, for I’m no criminal. I’m the spirit of vengeance.”

  “Spirit?” He spat the word out right before laughing. “You look pretty real to me.”

  “Do I?” Will touched the man’s mind, telling it he wasn’t there.

  “Holy shit!” Griffin spun around, frantic. “What just happened?”

  Will waited until they were facing each other, then “reappeared,” but not before changing appearances again. Shorter, long brown hair, no piercing, but thick glasses. “What do you mean?”

  Griffin jumped again. “You….”

  “Do you believe me now? Or should I show you again?”

  “Okay, you’re a spirit. What do you want with me?”

  The sigh died on his lips. Reading his mind would be easier. Why did he engage in this dance?

  “Why is Agent Barrington interested in the case?”

  Griffin stopped, eyes narrowed. Using the moment, Will slipped into the man’s mind. As hoped, the mention of the FBI’s interest brought all the memories to the front of the detective’s thoughts. This was why he bartered with the man.

  “Even if I knew who that was, I wouldn’t share details of an investigation.”

  “Don’t insult me, Detective. I’ve seen the reports—WACIIS, I believe it’s called. You noted the agent’s interest. I want to know more.” He had his answers already. Now, to keep up appearances.

  “Thought you said you weren’t a criminal. Last I read, burglary’s a crime.” Pathetic. Did he really think to divert Will so easily? Fine, he’d play along.

  “Burglary? I’m confused.”

  “Only place you could have seen that report is if you broke into my office.” Fixing Will with a hard glare, Griffin seemed to be trying to intimidate him. Unbowed, Will maintained a flat affect. “But you already admitted that yesterday.”

  Now it was veiled threats? “How much would an informant be worth who could tell you the name and location of every murderer who killed an innocent victim? One who is never wrong?”

  Irritation washed away, replaced by anger. Will continued his stony gaze, giving nothing away.

  “You’re some piece of work. I’m not gonna bargain with you for details of an active case. First you steal my files, then you want me to give you details of our investigation of you, and in exchange you’ll give me information on the dead bodies you send me. Boy, that’s one hell of a deal. I must have ‘sucker’ tattooed on my forehead.”

  Will shrugged. He had what he wanted already. “Closure means nothing?”

  “You think this is about case closure rates?” That struck a nerve. “It’s about justice, not vengeance.”

  Rather than answer, he kept walking, coming to a stop before several rows of squat square markers. “Are you familiar with the history of this place? When this country was new, every senator or congressman who died in office was given a marker here. Hence the name Congressional Cemetery.”

  “Did you really drag me here for a history lesson?” Was that irritation? Annoyance?

  “Detective, take a moment to learn something new each day.” Seeing the man peek at the headstones, Will suppressed a smile. “My actions will not change. I offer you a chance to profit from my knowledge.”

  “It’s blood money.”

  That was reaching. “I’m familiar with the term, but this is hardly similar.”

  “In exchange for turning a blind eye to your ‘work’, you give me evidence to help close cases, and you think it’s not a deal with the devil?”

  “I’m not asking you to ignore my actions. If you can find a lead, run with it. You won’t, I can assure you. My offer gives closure to the families of innocent victims. How is that not justice?”

  Will didn’t need to read his mind to know he considered the offer. As expected, Griffin shook his head. “You’re acting as judge, jury, and executioner. That’s almost as bad as killing an innocent bystander.”

  Snorting, Will rolled his eyes for effect. “When you make such ridiculous statements, I know there’s no point in continuing. Too bad. I’ll still get the information I need. You just won’t get anything in exchange. At least I made the offer. Good day, Detective.”

  He turned and made for the nearest metro station. Not that he would make it there without being stopped first.

  “Wait!”

  Steeling his face to erase the smile, he waited for the detective to catch up to him.

  “Why are you leaving?”

  “Detective, further discussion was pointless. You made that clear.” And Will had what he needed, for now at least. “There’s no reason for me to stay.”

  Will kept his face unreadable. Easing his way back into the officer’s mind, he confirmed what he already knew: Griffin was going to tell Agent Barrington of their meeting. For that to be of any use, he needed Will to keep in contact.

  “Give me some time to mull this over. Springing it on me like that, I reacted rather than thought it through. Can I call you tomorrow?”

  He wasn’t even subtle. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Detective. By the way, my name is Gar.”

  SOMETHING wasn’t right. He had missed something important. In fact, he had missed several things lately. Everything cycled back to Ryan. Of that he was certain.

  College Park, Maryland. As a sophomore, he had come here to visit friends. So many things had changed since then. Among them, there had been no Metro forty years ago. But it was a good diversion, and it served his needs.

  Was he getting paranoid? True, the unknown bothered him—a lot. Once he had mastered his memories, there was almost nothing he hadn’t “lived” before. But his skills were more than enough to prevent Detective Griffin from tracing him. Weren’t they?

  What was so easy before was now more complicated. Even if they found him, he had never worried too much about it. With his enhanced abilities, it was next to impossible for him to be hurt or taken into custody.

  Ryan wasn’t so fortunate. A smirk worked its way across his face. It cycled back to him.

  Hands stuffed in his pockets, he walked through the heart of the campus. Though he looked about the
age of most of the students, he dressed older. He was older. He ignored the stares. Most of them, anyway. The tall, handsome guy with a close-cut afro who was checking him out brought a smile to his face. Once, he would have returned the look, but that was a long time ago.

  After finding a patch of lawn away from the footpath, he sat, pulled his knees up, and wrapped his arms around them. On top of a hill, he peered down, watching the traffic on Route 1. In college, when he needed a chance to clear his head, he’d find a place to sit and watch.

  It unsettled him that “Will” asserted himself, pushing “Gar” aside so easily. He’d buried himself behind that persona for good reasons. The Purpose had no use for a conscience. It only led to madness.

  Will cared about people. Caring made things messy. He couldn’t afford to think about what he did because hesitation led to botched jobs. At least with Gar, his targets didn’t suffer more than they needed.

  That last thought snapped him back. Suffer? When did he care about the guilty? He never worried about them. Where did that notion come from?

  A low growl rumbled through his body. The two sides needed to stop warring. Even his musings were confused.

  Ryan was another enigma. Although calming, the new feelings didn’t ease his anxiety. Worry was one of those foreign emotions he wasn’t pleased to find reemerging. But the kid made his life—well, he gave him a life again. Time would tell if that was good or bad.

  “This spot taken?”

  How? Will whipped his head to the left. The guy must have seen him smile at being checked out.

  The hint of amusement in the question told Will the guy knew it was ridiculous. There were acres of grass, and Will was the only one there.

  Dark, bordering on deep ebony, he had the body of an athlete, possibly track or soccer. His perfect white teeth enhanced his friendly attitude when he flashed them in a wide grin. Thumb hooked casually under the strap of his backpack, he waited even as his heart raced.

  Great! Someone trying to pick me up. “Yeah, my legions of invisible fans are surrounding me.”

  Why did he do that? It just encouraged the guy. Why? Because that was what Will would have said.

  “Do you think they’d mind if I joined them?”

  Will pretended to look at his imaginary “fans.” “No, they’re happy for the company.”

  He slipped off his pack, dropped next to Will, and held out his hand. “Jake.”

  “Will.”

  “So….” Yup, definitely trying to pick him up. “I saw you smile when I checked you out.”

  Will stifled a smile at Jake’s direct approach. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “Sorry?” His forehead furrowed as his lips pursed tightly.

  “I shouldn’t have encouraged you. I’m not available.” Gar would have stopped there and ignored Jake. Will, however, refused to lie down quietly. “But it isn’t every day someone as hot as you checks me out.”

  This got him a laugh. “Well, at least I didn’t misread the signs.”

  Staring back at the road, he nodded. “No, you didn’t. Sorry again.”

  “Would you be offended if I asked if you weren’t available because you’re taken or because you’re not interested?”

  Where did that come from? Jake was, what? Twenty? Twenty-one? Sure, Will didn’t look sixty-seven, but he looked at least out of college.

  “Seeing someone.” He felt himself reach instinctively toward Jake’s mind and pulled himself back. This wasn’t the right time for that. “It’s complicated and exclusive. Hurting him isn’t an option for me.”

  “No, that’s cool.” Despite the brave facade, Will’s answer disappointed Jake. “Not really sure why I came over. I never do this, especially not to people I pass on the way to class.”

  “If it helps, I appreciate the attention.” Did he really?

  Will would have, did, but Gar would be annoyed. Had Will so taken over? How? Forty years of isolation shouldn’t have come undone in two days.

  “Thanks.”

  Will expected him to go, wanted it even, but Jake sat next to him quietly. Outwardly quiet at least. Internally, his heartbeat and breathing told a different story.

  “I’ve never seen you on campus.” Jake’s voice broke the awkward silence. “I’m guessing you don’t go to school here.”

  “You’d win that bet. I’m from Philly but living in DC now.”

  “Do you two live together?”

  Jake’s questions were edging Gar toward control. He and Jake didn’t have a future, so why stick around?

  “Sorta.” Will shrugged. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

  “Why did you come here?” The tone was almost annoyed, as if Will were invading his personal space.

  “No reason,” he lied. “Just set off and decided to find a place to be reflective.”

  “And I’m disturbing your thoughts.”

  Will thought now he might leave, but he made no signs.

  Looking over, Will smiled. “Yes, a bit, but they’re not pressing.”

  Jake snorted. “Figured as much.” He stirred but then pulled his phone out. “Can I give you my number? We, I mean you and your boyfriend and I, could hang out. I don’t have too many gay friends, and, to be honest, I prefer they not be on campus.”

  Friends? They barely met and he wanted to be friends.

  “Bad idea.” Jake stood up. “I’ll leave you be.”

  “Did you want to give me your number first?” Where did that come from? Gar didn’t want or need friends.

  Jake stopped, flashing his captivating smile. “Sure, but will you use it?”

  “I’ll be honest. I’m not the type to call, but I’ll answer.” Maybe Ryan would call. He seemed more social.

  Jake called Will’s phone so they’d have each other’s number, then headed off for class. Typing Jake’s name into the contact list, Will knew he’d call. Ryan could sort out the where and when.

  Shoving his phone in his pocket, he stared at the grass. He acted like they were a couple already. Jake called Ryan his boyfriend, and he didn’t correct him, but that wasn’t accurate, was it? Perhaps, but it was more and less than that.

  Jake was a third his age; so was Ryan. What was he doing with these kids? His life was nothing like theirs. No, that was a bad argument. His life wasn’t like anyone’s. But still, he was old.

  Gar was old, not Will. Will died young. Right after David died, or so he thought. After that, there was only Gar. Now Will was back, well, trying to be at least. Here again he found the mystery of Ryan.

  Leaning back, he “told” everyone to ignore him. He didn’t need a repeat of Jake. Using his “super brain,” as Ryan dubbed it, he considered what he knew, what he suspected, compared those to “his” memories, and looked for answers.

  Two hours later, he headed back to the Metro. He knew what he needed to do next. It was unavoidable. Hopefully, Ryan would see it that way.

  11

  “SOME guy just walks up and says, ‘Hi, I’m Jake’?”

  Will brushed Ryan’s slightly damp hair. Lying naked together, the sheet stuck to their sweat-covered bodies. The “supplies” Ryan made sure to buy had been put to vigorous use.

  “Yes. Seemed odd to me too, but I didn’t feel anything beyond anxiety.” He avoided the real topic they needed to discuss. Ryan was happy. Why ruin the moment?

  Ryan’s body tensed. So much for not destroying the mood. “Yet you gave him your number.”

  “Don’t you want friends?” Was he being naive?

  Ryan lifted his head and leaned on Will’s chest. “Are you really that clueless?”

  “Perhaps, but his voice and body language spoke of his sincerity. If there was malice, I would have noticed it.”

  “Malice isn’t the issue. Try lust.” Ryan was jealous. Worse, he felt threatened. “He wanted you, Will. Why don’t you see that?”

  “Hey, remember who has the super brain in this bed.” That at least got a smile—small, but still more than a smirk. “O
f course I knew what he wanted, but I made it clear I wasn’t available.”

  “Oh yes, that always works when the other person is a stalker. Christ, Will! When has that stopped people from having affairs?”

  “Remember who and what I am, Ryan.” He let those words sink in. “I went thirty years without hooking up, dating, etc. I’m not the type to abandon a commitment I’ve made to someone else.”

  “I didn’t realize you….”

  “Yes, you did.” Will didn’t do needy well, but Ryan’s insecurity didn’t annoy him. Instead, he stroked his hair lightly. “You know I think of us as together. Allowing anyone into my life is a huge change for me. In thirty years, I’ve only done that with one person, and he is lying next to me right now.”

  “When it rains it pours?” The pretend counterargument made Will laugh.

  He pulled Ryan back next to him. “I’ll bring an umbrella.”

  Ryan took a deep breath and let it out slowly against Will’s chest. “Sorry, Will. I’m not the most self-confident boyfriend you could have.”

  “Perhaps not, but you’re the only one I want.” Words would do little to assuage Ryan’s feelings, but he had to start somewhere. He wrapped his arms around Ryan, willing him to feel wanted. “I’m not like other guys—”

  “That’s an understatement.” Ryan made no attempt to move.

  “Funny guy. What I mean is, I feel like I’m still in 1970. You can’t expect me to act like guys today. Good or bad.”

  “Wow.” His hand traced an imaginary design on Will’s chest. “Seems so obvious, but I never thought of it like that. I trust you, Will. I just… nothing ever worked out for me. No one liked me in high school. College, the first guy I dated was really an escort who tried to get me to give him money after a couple of dates. Next few guys gave me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ speech, which really should have been ‘I found someone hotter than you that I’m dating now.’ First time I tried to date someone after college, he turned out to be a cokehead, so I broke up with him. He outed me to my parents last week when I refused to give him money.”

  Refused to give him money? Didn’t sound like Ryan had any money.