He considered various ideas to protect his grand plan as he sorted through his video recordings of the bar. Then he pulled up the tracking records for the Beloved’s Maserati to study the images created by overlaying the car’s journey on the streets of Washington as though interpreting runes cast by the gods. When inspiration failed to arise, he switched to the view from the cameras trained on the Beloved’s hallway, living room, and bedroom. At least those glimpses into the Beloved’s life brought solace as he planned and waited for his moment.
DETECTIVE TORRES briefed her captain on Monday morning. “I think the Rumson thing is a dead end, sir. Seattle PD and the Secret Service confirmed the perp is dead, identified by his own mother. Rumson never escalated from his declarations of love to violence, either against Scarborough or any of his sexual partners. Also Scarborough has been banging pretty boys for at least a year, according to the reports I gathered, and Gallagher is the only one we know of who has been harmed or killed.”
Captain Nelson pondered that and commented, “It still could be a stalker focused on Scarborough.”
“Agreed, sir. That’s possible. I’ll keep investigating him to look for a connection.”
Later one stray thought crossed Torres’s mind. She checked her notes from the conversation with Scarborough and Vaughan to confirm her recollection of the story of Rumson’s break-in. He’d had a variety of large dildos and begged Scarborough to use them. Forensics indicated Gallagher was violently sodomized with an object. It could have been a dildo, maybe, except it was covered in sharp protrusions that shredded Gallagher’s rectum. That internal mutilation was the likely cause of a terrible death, not the strangulation with his scarf.
It was a stretch, but she decided—notwithstanding what she had told her captain—a little more digging into Charles Rumson might be needed.
Chapter 8
“HI, JOE,” Zachary said when his new friend opened the door to Rainbow Space a few evenings later.
“Darling, I’m so glad to see you. Come in, come in,” Joe said as he drew Zachary into the hallway. The shelter was located in an area of DC called Shaw, in a row house sandwiched between commercial operations. A small brass plaque by the front door was the only indication of the building’s purpose. The main floor of the row house appeared to consist primarily of one large room with a staircase on the right. The walls were painted a light yellow, and pieces of mismatched furniture were scattered throughout.
“This is nice,” Zachary said as he looked around, full of curiosity. Joe took his jacket and placed it on a coat tree.
A trio of teenaged boys was gathered in front of a TV as they played a video game. “Boys, this is Zachary Hall,” Joe called to the gamers. They looked around and nodded quickly but immediately went back to shooting zombies. “Peter and Gideon have been here for some time,” Joe commented in a low voice, “but Darius just joined us a few days ago. I’m glad they’re bonding, even if I could wish for a little more manners.”
Zachary grinned. “I’m not offended, Joe. Remind me. How many people does your shelter hold?”
Joe led him across the main room, past a large communal table, through a swinging door, and into a decent-sized kitchen. He explained as he walked, “We have beds for up to thirty-five guests. They’re always full, and the actual number we host for a meal fluctuates daily. The dormitories are upstairs, along with an office. The basement unit is set up for our onsite manager, Vic Wilkins, and the laundry.”
Zachary looked around appreciatively as they toured the house. “This is a warm space. Really comfortable. I was expecting something more industrial, like the soup kitchen where I used to volunteer.”
Joe said, “These young men and women, for the most part, lost their homes when their parents or foster families learned they were homosexual or differently gendered. That’s why I feel it’s so important to try to give them a homelike environment here, so they can finish growing up. We have rules while they’re under our roof, and as I mentioned, I insist upon them sharing in chores. They all face tremendous challenges, of course, but I hope this stability will give them a sense of normalcy in their chaotic lives.”
“Do you take all ages?” Zachary wondered. “Those boys looked really young to me.”
“Peter is thirteen, and Gideon and Darius are both fifteen. We’ve had children as young as ten, though thank the Lord, very few and not very often. I don’t let anyone older than seventeen stay in the dorms, though they are welcome for the daily meal. By that age most can handle the burden of finding work and a place to live, and I feel I have to free up the beds for the younger ones who are less able to protect themselves. Ah, Jamayqua, dear.”
Joe introduced Zachary to a shy, tall youth in baggy jeans and a loose sweatshirt with the Washington Wizards logo. Jamayqua had dark skin and eyes, and her hair was longish, with bangs that had been dyed a bright apple red.
“I like your hair,” Zachary said. She blushed and dipped her head bashfully.
“Jamayqua helps with the meal preparation. She’s really quite talented in the kitchen,” Joe explained. “What are you and Vic making tonight?” he asked.
She answered in a soft, deep voice, “Fried chicken with collards.”
Zachary asked, “Is that the same thing as collard greens? I’ve heard of that dish, but I’ve never had it.”
“Would you like to join the family meal tonight, dear heart? We actually have a few places open.”
“Thanks, Joe. I’d like that if I’m not imposing.”
“Not at all. Now let’s finish the tour and we’ll let Jamayqua get back to dinner.”
Joe led Zachary down to the basement to introduce him to the manager. A man in his fifties, short and extremely wiry, stood near a commercial-size washer and dryer, handing clothes to a team of two boys and one girl to fold. Joe introduced him as Vic Wilkins. “Vic has been with me since the beginning,” Joe explained and beamed at the man, who was even shorter than Joe.
“Nice ter meechya,” Vic said as he shook Zachary’s hand. His voice sounded like gravel, and then he coughed thickly and spit into a handkerchief.
“Yuck,” one of the helpers said with a giggle, and Vic pretended to swat her behind.
“Manners, Doreen.” Joe tried to look stern, but his eyes twinkled.
Doreen said, “Sorry,” and Vic shrugged.
“No worries, Dor. My allergies’re really bad this year,” he added for Zachary’s benefit.
Joe introduced the three children helping Vic as Doreen, Michael, and Ty. Ty was quiet, but Michael blurted out, “I saw the last one. It sucked.” Zachary’s confusion must have shown because Michael pointed at his Star Wars T-shirt. “Revenge of the Sith was really dumb.”
“Oh. I kind of agree with you, Michael,” Zachary said. “Have you seen the new Star Wars movie?”
“Nah, it’s not on Netflix yet. We have to wait,” the boy explained, and Zachary realized it was unlikely extra money was available to take these kids to a first-run movie in a theater. He felt sort of stupid, so he said, “Do you have a DVD player here? I have all the Star Wars movies up to the new one on disc, so maybe we could watch someday.”
“Do you have Beauty and the Beast?” Doreen asked. “That was my favorite movie before.”
Zachary crouched down so his height wouldn’t seem intimidating to the pretty little girl. “You know, Doreen, I think I do. I’ll bring that one along. What did you like best about that movie?”
She blushed and whispered, “Belle. She was so smart and pretty and brave.”
Michael said, “But she was always doing wrong stuff, like when she got attacked by the wolves.”
Doreen’s face got hot. “She was just scared, and then she saved Beast’s life and washed his arm and showed him how to get the birds to eat from his hands.”
Ty said quietly, “Paws.”
“Yeah, from his paws,” Doreen agreed without a break. “And then when Beast was about to die, she saved him. She saved him.”
B
efore World War III broke out, Zachary interjected, “She did, but I think they saved each other. They were both really strong.”
Somewhat mollified, Doreen backed down and added only “Anyway, she’s the prettiest princess.”
Zachary looked at the boy whose head was tilted toward the floor. “Ty, right? What’s your favorite movie?”
Ty couldn’t look at him, but he said quietly, “E.T.”
Zachary smiled and said, “That’s a great one. I haven’t seen that in years.”
Ty grinned shyly and, without looking up, stuck out one finger. “Home,” he croaked in a decent imitation of the alien character.
Zachary touched the tip of his finger to Ty’s and smiled. “I’ll bring that one too.”
Vic said in his rough, stuffed-up voice, “Okay. Movie review is done fer now er we won’t finish the laundry in time fer dinner.”
Joe led Zachary away as the little team resumed its chores. Doreen called out, “Bye, Mr. Hall. Don’t forget Beauty and the Beast.” He assured her he wouldn’t.
As they returned to the main floor, Joe said, “Dear heart, I can see how well you’ll fit in here. But don’t let them drive you to distraction with their movie demands.”
“I won’t. It breaks my heart, though. They’re so young. How could they be so certain that they’re gay or transgender that they’d risk everything to tell their families?”
“I’ve meditated on that often, Zachary,” Joe said seriously. “The world has changed so quickly, probably in your lifetime, and certainly over my many decades. Why, I barely even knew the word gay until I was in the monastery, and I certainly wasn’t aware that I knew any men like me. But now these children are exposed to the concept before they have any notion of the consequences. What I try to accomplish with Rainbow Space is to find those sweet children, like Ty, whose only crime was being born into a family that hates, and give them a place to feel safe and loved.”
Zachary swallowed hard and reached out to grasp Joe’s hand. “You’re something else, Joe,” he said. “I hope when I grow up I can be as good a person as you.”
“You’ll make me blush, dear heart,” Joe said with a smile. “I felt when I left the monastery I discovered my true vocation, and that’s to protect as many innocents as I possibly can.”
“Do you try to give the residents here religious education?” Zachary asked.
“No, but I don’t discourage it in any way either. Some of the children have held closely to their faith, and we manage to get them to church or whatever they grew up with. Others have experienced so much wickedness in their young lives that they have no concept of a loving God. I’m not here to change their minds about those big questions, like whether God exists and why He made them different. If, by example, I raise new questions in their mind, I leave that to Providence.”
They reached the second floor as they talked, and Joe led Zachary through a series of dormitories with bunk beds and mismatched cabinets or chests of drawers crammed into every available inch. Some of the beds held teenagers, sprawling or reading, but most were empty and made up neatly. The third floor similarly held more dorms. Joe explained that he chose not to assign dorms by gender, but let the residents group themselves as they felt most comfortable.
“Let’s talk about how you’d be able to help us, Zachary,” he said. “Now I’m grateful for any time at all you can give, and I don’t want to be presumptuous. What would you like to do here?”
“Well,” Zachary started slowly as he thought out loud. “I felt good working in the soup kitchen, so maybe I could help out with the meal preparation. I think I can manage to come by at least two times a week after work.”
“That would be lovely,” Joe exclaimed. “Vic currently makes sure the meal is ready every day, with a great deal of assistance from Jamayqua. If you were able to handle that duty a few evenings, it would allow Vic to spend more time in the front of the house.” He raised his hands together as if in prayer while his blue eyes twinkled at Zachary. “And if you brought a few new recipes into the kitchen, then I’d know that the good Lord truly sent you to us.”
Zachary laughed. “I’m no chef, but I do know some good crowd-pleasers that stretch limited food supplies. Chili, Irish stew, things like that.”
“Wonderful. I’ll show you how we order supplies when we go back downstairs.”
“I’d be happy to bring some DVDs and things like that around too. Hang out with the residents on a weekend, maybe?” Zachary offered.
“You’d be welcome. I think you’ll find a lot of demand for your attention. The younger ones took to you immediately, and even older boys like Darius would respond well to you. You’re closer to their age than Vic or me or Terry. Or even Thomas, for that matter.”
Zachary swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight. “Thomas spends time here?” he asked, aware his voice had climbed an octave. He tried to relax his hands, which unaccountably clenched at his side.
Joe gave him a long, sympathetic look and then asked in a quiet voice, “Will that be a problem for you, dear heart? Seeing Thomas here?”
Zachary shook his head, afraid to speak. Joe reached out and rested a hand on Zachary’s arm.
“Thomas has a powerful impact on men. I understand that. But beneath that beautiful face and troubled soul beats the heart of a saint.”
“I don’t know that much about him. I just… I wish I did.” Zachary found himself unable to meet Joe’s kind gaze, and Joe patted his arm again and then dropped his hand.
“I don’t think anyone really knows him, except perhaps for Randall. I doubt Thomas would welcome my prayers, but I do pray for him to find a companion of the heart instead of just the body.” He tilted his head to catch Zachary’s eyes and smiled mischievously. “Of course his body is walking sin.”
Zachary had to smile. “It’s a great body.” Suddenly he exclaimed, “Why can’t I stop thinking about him, Joe? We only hooked up once and then talked during brunch the other day. I see him look at me sometimes, and I think maybe he feels the same connection I do. But then a wall comes down, and we’re strangers again. Just one more man he had in bed and then left behind.”
“Ah, my dear. If I had the solution to Thomas, I’d happily share it with you. I wish I could give you hope, but the truth is, I can’t. If you’ll take an old man’s advice, you’ll put it in the Lord’s hands and move on with your life. Don’t wait around and pine for Thomas. Help us here, go out with other men, enjoy your youth and your adventure. If anything would help Thomas see what a treasure you are, it’s watching you sparkle and thrive.”
“I hear you,” Zachary said and impulsively hugged his friend. “Thanks, Joe.”
“Please know that you can talk to me at any time, about anything, darling. Now let’s see where we are with dinner.”
Chapter 9
EVEN KNOWING the score, even agreeing with Randy’s assessment and Joe’s advice, Zachary found himself thinking of Thomas far too often. His handsome face, black hair, hard body—sure, Zachary dreamed of those. But besides the spank material, he thought more often about the kindness in Thomas’s blue eyes, his manner with Joe, the hints about his passion for using his political position to help the homeless. All of that seemed irreconcilable with the man who so firmly tried to convince Zachary that he was an unrepentant asshole.
Zachary prided himself on his ability to read people. In fact that was one of the skills that helped him excel at his job in human relations. All of his instincts told him Thomas was a good man, worth knowing better, and perhaps less credibly, that Thomas seemed drawn to him. But Zachary knew he must have fundamentally misread the situation.
He was nonetheless pleasantly surprised when he picked up his phone at work one day and heard Thomas’s baritone in his ear. “Hi, Zachary,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind me calling. I got your number from Joe.”
Zachary’s heart began to pound immediately, but he kept his voice as neutral as he could. “Hey, Thomas. No, I don’t mind at all.
What’s up?”
“I have this standard thing with Randy. When I’m in town on a weekend, we like to go to museums on Sunday afternoons, maybe grab a late lunch before he heads in to prep the bar. I know you’re still trying to learn the city, and it occurred to me that you might like to join us this Sunday.”
Zachary felt a moment of blazing hope. Almost immediately, though, he realized that, with Randy there, Thomas wasn’t asking him on a date. He answered slowly, “Friends, huh?”
Thomas chuckled a bit. “Exactly. I meant it when I said I hoped we could be friends, and you seemed okay with it at brunch the other day.”
Zachary swallowed his disappointment and tried to be mature. He really did like being around Thomas, he wanted more friends in Washington, and the idea of a Sunday afternoon at a museum was pleasant. All he’d have to do was control his emotions and his dick.
What could go wrong?
What he said was “Sure, I’d like to join you guys. Thanks for the invitation.”
“Great,” Thomas exclaimed. “We’re planning to meet at the National Gallery of Art. The West Building. Do you know where that one is, or do you want a ride?”
“I think I’ve seen it when I’ve gone for a run along the Mall a few times at lunch. It’s near the Capitol, right?” Zachary asked.
“That’s right. It has a big dome. We’re meeting in the main entrance area at noon.”
“I’ll see you there.”
He heard a slight pause as though Thomas wanted to say more, but all that came over the line was “See you there.”
SUNDAY MORNING arrived, and Zachary spent some extra time in the pool to get himself ready to face Thomas. The rhythm of his steady motion through the cool water, the pull of his arms, the even breaths, centered him like nothing else on earth. He was supercharged with energy when he woke up and then crashed halfway through his breakfast when he realized it was all due to seeing Thomas again. If they were really going to spend time together, Zachary had to accept at face value what he had told him. Friendship was all Thomas had to offer.
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