Purpose (6 page)

“How’d you get so lucky, Grif?”

“Lucky?” Detective Griffin’s voice froze Gar in place. “Chief is already up my ass about proving this wasn’t a rogue cop. And she’s pissed that the details of the Clay Terrace incident got out. Like I have anything to do with that case.”

Gar decided not to confront the man here—too many minds to manipulate. Instead, he slipped out before the door shut. Cool air on his face, he took out his phone. Punching the contact, he walked away from the building. The phone rang twice before it was answered.

“Griffin.”

“Good morning, Detective Griffin.”

“Who is this?” Annoyance? No, more like uncertainty.

“My name is not important, but I have information about the four who got beat up in Dupont last night.” That would get his attention.

“How’d you get this number?”

Hooked him. Gar smiled. The man wouldn’t hang up now.

“From your coworker‘s cubicle. It’s on his wall.” He let the silence linger. “I left a moment ago, just as you and your partner entered. I was standing inside the hallway by the door. You didn’t see me because I didn’t want you to.”

“Look, I don’t have time for games….”

“As you entered the building you said, and I quote, ‘Chief is already up my ass about proving this wasn’t a rogue cop. And she’s pissed that the details of the Clay Terrace incident got out. Like I have anything to do with that case.’ Do I have your attention yet?”

Following the sidewalk up the hill, Gar let the silence linger. Griffin’s ragged breathing warned Gar he was communicating with someone inside. “Who are you?”

“How many times will you ask that before you realize I’m not going to tell you?”

Gar crossed the side street, walking west when he reached Pennsylvania Avenue. Rapid footsteps filled the silence of the phone. “I’ve left, Detective. Rushing out of the building will do you no good.”

A door opened, followed by running. Gar smiled. Would the man turn the right way? There were so many options.

“What’s your game?” The voice was rushed, out of breath.

“This is no game.” He stopped at the corner, still invisible to everyone. Griffin was staring right at him from the entrance to the parking lot. “You’re on the sidewalk looking for me. I’m in plain view, but you will not see me unless I want you to. Right now, I do not. So you can listen to me, or I’ll end this call and we won’t speak again.”

“Fine, I’m listening.”

Doubling back, Gar moved closer to where Griffin stood searching the area for his caller.

“Go back inside. You might want to write this down.” A car drove past, blocking his view. When it was gone, Griffin was heading inside. “I beat those four when they asked an innocent if he knew what time it was. We both understand what that means. They were guilty. I merely rescued the boy.”

“If that’s true, come forward and we won’t prosecute.” Griffin disappeared behind the wall.

Time to go home.

“There is no danger of me being prosecuted. You have no idea who I am or what I look like. You’ve got three different descriptions. Not a strong case, is it?”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Detective….” Gar heard the sound of a car door closing on the other end. “I see you decided to get in your vehicle. This call is at an end. Next time, if you want my help, you’d do well to listen to my directions.”

“Wait! I’ll get out.” The door slammed shut. “Don’t hang up. Hello?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m going to my desk. Just don’t hang up.” The buzz of the keypad confirmed his statement. “So what did you want to tell me?”

“No doubt you found a gun in the alley. It belongs to the one who hit his head against the wall. I’m sure you will find his prints on it. I only punish the guilty.”

More silence. “Why are you telling me this?”

“We should meet. I’ll be in touch.” He disconnected the call and hailed a cab. He was too distracted to do this right now. Better to think it through.

G
AR
had the cab drop him off several blocks from his apartment. A rueful smile twisted his lips as he realized what he’d done. No one knew to follow him, but old habits proved hard to break. Besides, he needed some time alone. He found an empty stone bench and sat down.

Reviewing the photos of the police reports on his phone, he confirmed what he knew: no two witnesses gave the same description of the “Metro Transit cop.” As he had intended, there was also no mention of him, no man in a trench coat, nothing. He’d forget the incident if it wasn’t for the notation at the bottom of the next-to-last report.

He flipped screens back to the nettlesome report and stared a hole in his phone. Why was the FBI involved in a local investigation? Sure, the rogue cop angle was a potential civil rights violation, but no one really believed it was an off-duty police officer.

Reading it again, it appeared Agent Barrington was seeking information for a multi-city investigation. Could they be tracking him? Possibly. Wherever he went, the number of dead thugs certainly spiked.

More likely they were tracking the pattern, searching for a profile. Despite his attempts to make it look like something else happened, his missions must have created too many similarities. That said, beating up four robbers wasn’t typical for him. Normal meant dead bodies. In fact, the guilty
always
died when he avenged the innocent. So why this case? Griffin would know, but would he tell Gar?

Something else to dwell on when he had a chance, but not today. Whatever was happening with Ryan, he needed some perspective. That meant checking his past “lives.” Memories of dead hosts were hard to make sense of at first. It was only after
It
enhanced his brain functions that he learned to wall them off, calling on them as needed.

Even now it was difficult to find something useful. Often, the memories that were most accessible were the strongest. Those were emotionally charged, snippets of events fueled by love, hate, rage, sorrow. The more useful ones were hard to sift out.

What he needed today, however, was tied to the stronger feelings. Wading into the cesspool of dark images, he searched for the diamond in a mound of coal. One image followed the next in rapid succession as he discarded them as fast as they appeared. The circumstances had to be precisely the same. Most never came close and were shunted away almost immediately. Even as fast as he searched, he settled in for a long session.

He had no good answers when he emerged from the jumble of memories. From the position of the sun, he’d been “lost” in his thoughts for better than an hour. Several hosts had experienced a premonition similar to the ones he’d had with David and Ryan, but none of them understood what it meant. Not even after someone close to them died.

Frustrated, he stretched his legs before standing. Time to go home. He wasn’t going to find the answer by himself. Ryan was part of the mystery and held the answers needed to solve it. He just didn’t know it.

T
HE
key slid into the lock, but he stopped before turning it. Should he knock first? Ryan might want some warning. That he didn’t know the right response rankled him. Once he had known. How could he be so awkward now?

Ryan wouldn’t be expecting him, but neither could he miss the sound of the door opening. Assuming he was still here, he reminded himself. Hearing nothing inside, he went in. Scanning his apartment, everything was in its place. Not that he expected anything different. He ditched the overcoat in the closet before continuing.

They both had so little, it was hard to tell if he’d left for good or just gone out. Much as he wanted to shrug and pretend he didn’t care, he wanted the kid to stay. Wanted or needed? The question caught him as he approached his bedroom.

Both. He did need to figure out what Ryan did to affect him, but he also wanted to see him. Wants unnerved him, and this time was no different. It was easier to carry out his purpose without getting attached to someone.

Best not to dwell on what he wanted, he still needed to explain himself to the kid. It might send him running for the door. Then again, he couldn’t convince himself Ryan would leave.

Someone had made the bed. That someone being Ryan. An odd thing to do if he left for good. On the floor at the foot of the bed, Ryan’s blue bag answered his questions. It looked empty, and Gar found a pile of clothes on top of the dresser. He’d be back.

Peeling his shirt off, habit took over. With time to kill, he kept to his schedule. He slipped off his jeans but left on the cotton trunks. Normally, he would practice in the nude, but with Ryan coming back at any moment, he grabbed a pair of shorts.

One of his prior hosts had taken up Tai Chi, hoping its calming affect would offset the agitation
It
caused. A few practice sessions and Gar became a believer. Often, it required hours of exercise to achieve the needed serenity, but what else did he have to do?

He dragged the navy blue foam mat from the closet and ran his bare feet over the cool surface to smooth out the bumps. Letting his thoughts drain away, he assumed a starting position.

With thousands of hosts to draw on, Gar’s memories held dozens of different disciplines, some no longer practiced. Over the centuries, his predecessors had incorporated elements of many into their routine. The combination was devastating when used properly, but he found it magnified the unsettling energy the Purpose created.

Tai Chi gave him balance and peace, if only for brief moments. Quiet today, the Purpose didn’t need offsetting, and just a few moves brought a wave of calm.

Gliding through the moves, the heightened connection to his body brought enhanced energy and power. Sweat covered his torso in a light sheen, the result of an hour’s intense exercise. The cooling effect of moisture evaporating from his skin left him tingling.

Using the mental calm to focus his thoughts, he kept alert for signs of Ryan’s return. Each time the elevator reached his floor, he quickly eliminated the occupants from just their breathing. Midway into his second time through, the footfalls signaled Ryan heading back.

Still following his routine, he nearly missed the other two people walking close to Ryan. Why was he bringing people back with him? Holding his position, the sound of a lock turning signaled he would have his answer soon enough.

Ryan pushed open the door, laden with several full-looking shopping bags. Trailing close behind, two men, probably Hispanic, ferried other things into the apartment. One carried several more bags, while the other held a small television box.

“Will,” Ryan said, sounding a bit surprised. “What are you doing?”

Why did his real name sound so foreign? Foreign, but welcome. “Tai Chi. It helps calm me.”

Ryan’s eyes swept up and down Gar’s body. The bemused grin widened into a full smile. When their eyes met, Gar nodded and returned the amused look. He completed the movement, brought his feet together, and moved to inspect Ryan’s purchases.

“A better question might be what did you do?” Touching the lip of one of the bags, he pushed the edge down. Most of the items were wrapped or in boxes, but the odd cooking utensil answered his curiosity.

“Buying things for the apartment.” He set two bags on the table, directing the man with the television into the bedroom. “Let me finish with these two and I’ll show you what I bought.”

The second man added his bags to the table before stepping back. Ryan handed each of them a bill—a twenty, if he wasn’t mistaken—and escorted the pair to the door. Gar used the break to get a hand towel.

“Damn.” He turned toward the sound of Ryan’s voice. “That was a nice view when I walked in. I didn’t know you practiced in your apartment.”

“No reason not to. There’s plenty of space.” He ran the towel over his slick chest, rubbing away the beads of sweat.

Ryan moved closer and took the cotton cloth from Gar’s hand. “You look so hot. I want to run my hands over your hairy chest.”

Letting Ryan dry him off, Gar gently stroked his guest’s soft hair. “Not until after we talk.”

“Will.” He stopped rubbing Gar’s chest and looked up. “I know yesterday wasn’t the first time you did something like that. There isn’t much you could tell me that would make me run away.”

Not much, but there are things.
“Let me get changed, and we can go.”

“Go?”

He pulled a long-sleeve tee shirt from a stack. “Outside. I’d prefer to go for a walk to talk. If that’s okay.” He slipped it over his head and found Ryan still staring at him.

“Sure.”

“You were going to show me what you bought.”

“Um, yeah, but I’m liking this show better.”

Smiling despite himself, he removed his shorts. “Nothing you didn’t see and paw over last night.”

“Yeah, but your ass looks great in those tight trunks.” Ryan raised both eyebrows. “Can’t wait to slip them off you.”

Ryan’s heartbeat jumped as he walked out. Using the break, Gar quickly stepped into his pants and found a clean pair of socks. He was almost done when his guest returned with an armful of bags.

“Since you had nothing for the kitchen, I went to Target and stocked up. I’m sure I’ll think of things we need later.”