I awoke suddenly, my mind still shaking off the remnants of the alcohol consumed in such liberal quantities last night. The thick curtains of my apartment windows were drawn and it took a moment for me to realize that a shadow was hovering above me. The person in question was sitting on my bed, only a short distance from me. For a moment, I thought it was Claire, as I had been dreaming about her. The shadow leaned forward and it was only when the lamp on my nightstand was turned on, that I saw the features hovering above me, as familiar to me as my own face. It was Joe Carroll.
Quick as lightning, I reached down under my pillow, grabbed my gun and pointed the barrell at him. "Now, Ryan, you don´t want to be doing that," he told me in a surprisingly calm tone of voice.
Instead of listening, I cocked the gun and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked but no bullets came.
Joe opened his hand to reveal the bullets hidden there. "You don´t think I would let you have a loaded gun around me?" He threw the bullets down to the floor, grabbed the gun from me and threw it underneath the sofa. "Now, can we talk like civilised human beings?"
I sit up in bed and realize that I am only clothed in a pair of jeans. I must have drunk so much that I managed to pull off my shirt and socks but passed out on the bed before I finished undressing. A small brush of red dots my cheeks and I am sure that Joe notices this.
"Why the hell are you here? You know I have to arrest you."
Joe raises an eyebrow, as if he is certain my statement is filled with holes. Something about the way Carroll´s brown eyes regarded me unnerved me. "I came for this."
With those words spoken, Joe reaches out and touches my lips with his. For a moment, I am lost in the softness of the man beside me, before I pull away as if burned.
"What the hell is this!?" I arise from the bed, dazed and confused. I begin pacing the floor in front of the bed, trying to put my unruly thoughts in some semblance of order. Joe must be messing with my head, he has found a new way to control me.
I look at the handsome man sitting on my bed and as if on queue, he shakes his head, as if he knows the trail of my thoughts. I have the tendency to forget how well he knows me. "This is you messing with my head, isn´t it?"
"No, it isn´t. For once, I am not playing games."
"How can I trust you?" I venture to ask.
"You can´t," Joe replies as he rises from the bed and stands in front of me. He places his hands on my hips and pulls me close, I allow him to. The taste of scotch, old books and cigars washes over me, strangely comfortable and familiar. It´s the thought of Emma flashing through my mind that brings me back to the present and I step away out of his reach.
"You killed all those women," I accuse him and he flinches at the mention of the murders.
"Did you ever wonder why I did it?" Joe takes one step closer but I regard him supiciously.
"You wanted to create art. You shared Poe´s view that art needed to be felt."
"And what if the murders had nothing to do with Poe at all? What if all your theories about me are nothing more then ashes and dust?"
My confused look says it all and without prompting, Joe continues. "Feel free to call the police and throw me back on death row, but then you will never know the real reason why I killed those women." He gestures towards the telephone and stands still, as if waiting for me to dial the familiar number. I freeze, however and after a moment of contemplation, I urge him to continue. After all, I have known this man as well, or even better, then myself for several years now. The opportunity to hear the reason for his actions from Carroll himself is too good allow it to pass me by.
Joe walks to my kitchen, and I sit on one of the stools by the island, while he rummages through the cupboards, finds immediately one of my hidden vodka bottles and pours us both a drink into glasses which he retrieves from a cupboard. Neither one of us comments on the fact that he knows the precise location of everything in the room.
He pushes one glass towards me and while I take a drink from mine, he rolls his glass around and stares into the contents. "Ryan, what if I told you that we met once before the time you met me at the university to question me about the murders?"
I take my time in responding, allowing the taste of the drink to roll on my tongue and the gentle feeling of being inebriated returning to me. Finally, I meet Joe´s dark eyes. "I would have to ask where that was."
"I was present at the lecture you held at New York University about a year before the murders began. It took a year to perfect my plan, consider every contingency..."
"I´m afraid you lost me," I interrupt him. I am not sure what this meeting between us had to do with the murders a year later.
A sudden look of uncertainty crosses Joe´s face. I have never seen him this nervous. He is a man of angles, always with two or more plans in the pot. Now, at least, it would appear he doesn´t have one.
Finally, Joe finds his voice. "I did it for you."
"You did what for me?"
"I killed those women for you. To get your attention. I knew you would get called in and eventually find me."
For the second time in an eventful night, I have no idea as to how to respond. All I´m capable of doing is staring at him, allowing Joe the chance to continue.
"I wanted to make you mine, but I knew that asking you out for a drink would never work. I decided therefore to have you chase me. At least that way, you would come to know me."
"You mean you are...?" I finally manage to choke out the words.
"In love with you? Yes."
"And Claire and Joey?" I have taken on an interrogative stance that does not seem to bother Joe, who has seen this side to me after all.
"Merely props."
"And Emma?" I question further.
"A silly little girl. A means to an end." Joe walks past the island to stand beside me where I am sitting on the chair. He grabs my hand and squeezes it between both of his. "We are the same, you and I. Made from the same mould."
I shiver imperceptibly and take my hand from his. "Don´t say things like that." I arise from the chair and have begun to walk away when his words stop me cold.
"I know about the junkie who killed your dad. How you gave him an overdose. Don´t pretend you are all so high and mighty." Joe walks over to one of the windows, pulls the curtain and summons me to join him. In a daze, I obey. Joe motions to a couple heading home from the local bar. "They have no idea, do they?"
"Of what?" I look over my shoulder at him, his face ethereal in the lights from the city.
"How fucking fragile life is. How quickly it can be taken away by someone like us. They live in a world of delusion, but we see the world for what it truly is."
"A pack of shit."
Joe gives a little smile. "Well, I was going to say a board of chess, where the strong survive and those who refuse to play the game die, but a pack of shit will do as well." He turns me around to face him. "I have finally find someone whose will matches my own, who understands me, someone who knows my secrets as well as I know his. Do I have to surrender that?"
I swallow the lump in my throat. "What exactly are you suggesting? That we ride into the sunset and live happily ever after?"
"One night where you are not an FBI agent and I am not a wanted criminal. One night where we are simply Joe and Ryan."
His words echo in my head for a long time after they have been spoken. Suddenly, the foundation of everything I had ever known begins to crumble and I see myself with frightening clarity. How Joe was not merely the criminal that got away and had to be caught, but how I might have had others reasons for my interest in the case. Did I date Claire simply because she was Joe´s ex-wife? Where had caution and goodness ever gotten me? I had been betrayed by the FBI and probably would be again when it suited their convenience. What the hell did I ever owe them? In truth, I owed everything I had become, for bad or good, to Joe. We were connected by a bond I couldn´t fathom or understand. Who the hell was I to say no? Did I even want to?
"You know tomorrow nothing will have changed?" I venture. "I will still be chasing you?"
"I wouldn´t expect anything less of you. Do you remember that time you came over to my house?" Joe steps closer and begins kissing my neck. "God, I wanted to fuck you then."
I become lost in the feeling of his lips against my skin and soon enough, they have moved up to my lips. Strangely enough, the kiss that follows is warm, tender, loving. He cups my face in his hands as mine begin to fumble with the shirt he is wearing. Soon, he is naked down to the waist and I lead him to my bed. Pulling him onto it, he lies on top of me and straddles me. He kisses down the length of my torso, sucking on my nipples until I cry out with pleasure, stopping momentarily when he reaches the waistband of my jeans.
Joe looks up at me. "I love you, Ryan."
"I love you, too." I direct him upwards to me and I kiss him, certain that heaven might indeed not merely be above us, some unnamed place in the distance but here and now. He pulls off my jeans and boxers, pulling down his as he gently turns me around and penetrates me without warning. "Now, you´re mine," he whispers into my ear as he begins thrusting into me. Never having experienced this before, the pain is unbearable for a moment until pleasure takes its place. It´s as if the world finally falls into place. I come all over the bedsheets at the same time Joe comes in me. Sleep quickly overwhelms me but I am aware of Joe pulling me close and wrapping a protective arm around me.
I am awoken at dawn when Joe arises from the bed and begins to dress. "Do you need to leave now?" The hurt is evident in my voice.
"I need to leave before Emma, Roderick and the others notice I am gone." He is putting on his shirt and reach up to button it up for him.
"Can you promise me something Joe?"
"Anything."
"Let this just be between us. Keep your followers from killing innocent civilians."
Joe nods in approval. "I can whack off Caleb if the instinct comes along. He´s always sniffing around Emma anyway." He grabs his leather jacket and puts it on, but returns for a final kiss before heading out the door. I warn him to take the back entrance for a hasty retreat.
"Shall I come back tonight?" he questions with a raised eyebrow.
"I am calling the locksmith to have the locks changed today." Joe is already heading for the door but at my words he turns and winks at me. With that, he is gone.
On the other hands, perhaps it can wait for a week or so.