Author's note: Thanks again to Lange for reviewing the last part! I hope you didn't completely freak out; sorry for not posting sooner.
Joseph Pulitzer was practically gnawing on the cigar positioned between his lips that were, at that moment, set in a very determined, very unamused frown. He paced like a caged lion around the former office of the former Warden Snyder, eyes narrowing with each passing minute. His clenched fists were stuffed into the pockets of his expensive, Italian jacket. With a venomous stare, he turned to face Detective Sarmons and Snyder, and growled, "I will not stand for my profits to diminish any further; you will free the newsies by tomorrow morning, or there will be hell to pay.
"Mr.. Pulitzer, I'm afraid that can't be done," Snyder answered with forced calm. "The newsies were harboring a dangerous criminal- a murderer- and that crime cannot go-"
"I don't care if they were all involved in the assassination of James Garfield. They will be released immediately. I don't want one paper to go unsold."
"I'm afraid," Snyder continued, his voice rising ever so slightly with anger and frenzy, "that this is a matter for the court to decide, and not a newspaper publisher."
Pulitzer crossed his arms challengingly over his chest. He was not about to be undone by an unemployed man evidently bent on some form of revenge. "As I am told, the newsies all claim to have had no idea of this Lucia Navar's previous activities. This also goes for that man- what's his name?- Kloppman."
"The newsies are hardly reliable sources-" the former warden answered swiftly, but Pulitzer was quick to interject.
"Listen to me," he demanded ferociously. "Have you ever heard Hearst's quote concerning the Spanish-American War? 'You furnish the pictures and I'll furnish the war'." His voice dropped dangerously lower. "I can create a war against you, Snyder, with a snap of my fingers."
Detective Sarmons leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest, and studied the two arguing males with well-concealed contempt. He had no interest in the newsies, and rather wished that Pulitzer would simply release the hooligans so that Sarmons would be free of Snyder. He had served his purpose and now the detective didn't care about his wishes in the slightest. All that had ever mattered was catching the girl, serving justice. Sarmons's eyes were replete with frustration and restlessness; he needed to be out on the streets, searching for Lucia, not waiting for the outcome of a shallow argument. He could practically feel the girl stalking the streets. His heart raced, blood pounding in his ears and drowning out the noise of the disagreement. Then the door flew open with the force of a gale, slamming against the wall and sounding like a gunshot.
Shadow stood very calmly in the doorframe, breathing heavily. She was completely soaked yet again, her hair plastered to her face although she made no move to brush it back. Her eyes, solemn and dogged, immediately locked with those of the detective, who instantly leapt to attention.
"Let 'em go," she stated quite simply, staring gravely at Sarmons as though there were no other people in the room.
"Arrest her!" Snyder shouted, but as Shadow took a panicked step back, Sarmons lifted his hand and gestured for the former warden to be silent. Shadow glanced from person to person and then, finally resting her gaze upon Sarmons once again, repeated, "Let 'em go. Dey had no idea about me dis whole time. I'll go willin'ly if ya jus' let 'em go." She caught sight of Snyder making a small movement towards her and took another step backwards, though she still stared at Sarmons. "It took ya t'ree years to find me heah, and ya still nevah exactly caught me. Jus' let 'em go and I'll come willin'ly."
With a single, barely visible nod, Sarmons moved to an unprotesting Shadow and swiftly handcuffed her.
"Sarmons, you can't do this," the former warden growled in protest, his eyes blazing with fury at the thought of the newsies walking away free after only one night in the Refuge. "The proper legal actions must take place; we can't just let the newsies go on the whim of this murderer."
The detective looked to Snyder with a viciously forbidding statement which served to silence the older man. "Justice is served," he murmured gravely, then turned to stare at Shadow with a certain glimmer in his eyes which shook the very core of her. There was something in his gaze which served to unnerve her to no end...something beyond the fact that he had desired her capture.
He noticed the uneasy, inquisitive manner in her eyes and swiftly turned again to Snyder, who, though still quiet, possessed an expressionof rage and bewilderment. "Take this criminal to your best cell. I will send for her tomorrow morning- when the trial will begin."
Shadow felt as though she had been savagely and thoroughly beaten. A trial? Images of compassionless juries, corrupted judges, and scores of death sentences flashed through her mind. There seemed to be absolutely no hope for her now.
At least da newsies are gonna get off, she thought to herself with as much calmness as she could muster up at that point. Maybe justice is served.
"Move along," Snyder growled ferociously as he pushed the girl through the doorway (she nearly stumbled and fell to the unkind ground, but was able to balance herself at the last possible moment) and down a series of dark hallways. She imagined ancient castles and dank dungeons in the deepest basements, where the rats were practically as big as dogs and would attack humans if other food wasn't available. The farther they marched, the clearer the realization came to Shadow that she would be unable to see the moon during her last night alive. With bitter anguish, she recalled her myriads of wishes to blend into the shadows and vanish forever. It seemed as though her wish would at last be granted.
*****
Though she couldn't see them in the darkness, Shadow had to wonder if rats were indeed occupying her cell. Every so often, the sounds of tiny claws and teeth scraping against the stone walls caused her stomach to clench. She shuddered against her will and then berated herself for the action. Ya should be used ta dem by now. And unless dey decide ta hang ya, ya beddah get used ta dem, she told herself fiercely, not permitting even the slightest trace of a tear to make itself evident in her stony eyes.
The air was stale and caused the girl to feel even more sickened. She longed for a window, if nothing else, but even that wish wasn't about to be granted.
What da hell did I do? She demanded of herself, and would have knocked her head against the wall she was leaning against in frustration had she not possessed enough of a headache already. Who's ta know if dat detective guy actually set da newsies free…not dat dey had any reason ta be in heah. But people are screwed up anyway; dey could always make up some phony charge and lock us all up 'till forevah jus' for da fun of it. Lock us all up…all of us unless dey kill me foist.
She raked her ragged nails against the stonewalls as if hoping to escape. What da hell did I do dat for? Couldn't I have t'ought up somet'ing dat wasn't totally brainless? Shit.
The sound of shoes scraping softly against the hallway floor interjected in her thoughts. Her eyes snapped open and she pressed herself fearfully to the wall like a caged animal. Dat's not so far from da truth, she remarked bitterly and studied the door, where she was certain someone stood on the other side. She heard a plate being placed gently in front of the door and muttered with pointed fury, "What is dis, my last meal or somet'ing?"
"If dis is you'se last meal, you'd beddah complain ta da waitah," a familiar voice quipped.
"Specs!" Shadow, leaping forward from her position, cried in near shock and then clamped her hand over her mouth in fear that someone might have heard her exclamation. After a moment, when she was certain that no one was approaching and in a faint whisper, she continued, "Whadda ya doin' heah? I t'ought all you'se woulda been let go. Damnit, what a moron I am."
"No, dey let us out all right," he assured her. "I dunno if it's 'cause of what you'se did or 'cause dey ain't got no right ta keep us in heah. But in any case, we'se out."
Shadow breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. Well, if anything, at least that was taken care of. Before she could ponder the matter any further, her curiosity got the better of her and she began to spit out a thousand questions at once. "How did ya know what I did? And how did ya get heah? Why ain't you'se outta dis hellhole? And did dat-"
"Hey, slow down," Specs requested. "How could we not know what ya did? It's about as easy ta keep a secret in dis joint as it is ta walk blindfolded and drunk across da head of da Statue of Libahty. People 'ovahheah' stuff. And I'se heah because I…" he trailed off.
"Because why?" Shadow prompted impatiently, folding her arms over her chest.
"Because I'm worried about ya, all right?" he snapped vehemently.
She rolled her eyes and longed for a cigarette. "So what I am supposed ta do, t'ank ya or somet'ing?" she asked stonily and then, her anger increasing, took a few steps towards the door. "Look, I didn't get you'se free 'cause I need ya or not'ing, if dat's what ya was t'inking. It was just helpin' ya out 'cause I got ya t'rown in heah in da foist place. It doesn't mean I want your help or need ya or anyt'ing."
A moment of tense silence followed and she imagined Specs growing intensely solemn on the opposite side of the door (although it seemed to be a much greater distance that separated them at that moment). "Shadow," he finally murmured, his voice like ice, "you're gonna need all da help ya can get." The sound of swift, retreating footsteps followed and soon Shadow was alone once again.
She fell to the floor, not caring if the rats swarmed around her. What am I doin'? she insisted of herself, Why da hell did I jus' say dat ta him? Medda was right befoah…but I jus' couldn't take it if he turns out ta be like I always t'ought people would be eventually. A faint but dogged voice in her mind whispered in its usual sly nature that she didn't need any of them, that she had always landed on her feet before and why should this time be any different? Yeah, but what did landin' on my feet evah get me befoah?
The sound of nearing footsteps caused her eyes to brighten momentarily. "Specs?" she murmured hopefully and rose to her feet. Taking a step towards the door, she inquired, "Ya deah?"
She received no answer and was about to repeat her inquiry when the door sluggishly creaked open, bathing the room in dim light. A tall figure entered, one which certainly wasn't Specs. For a moment, Shadow couldn't make out the features of the silhouette due to the light stretching into the cell. Then the door inched shut, enveloping the two in thick darkness, and Shadow found that she faced none other than Detective Sarmons himself.
She retreated to the wall yet again, finding the darkest possible place in which she could take cover. She didn't allow herself even the smallest movements, not even the next breath; she simply became a living shadow. And she could not be certain, but she thought she caught sight of the faintest hint of a grin appear at the corners of the detective's lips.
Gathering as much boldness as she could muster at that point in time, she demanded harshly, "What is it? What do ya want from me now?"
A barely audible chuckle hung in the air as though from gallows. "Want? There's nothing more I want from you. You've been captured and tomorrow you will go before a judge who will decide the fairest punishment for your crimes; and justice will be served. What more can there be than that?"
Shadow's stomach tightened as she listened. Something about his voice unnerved her; it seemed to be the vocal embodiment of his eyes.
He began to stroll calmly around the cell, as cool as though he were walking through Central Park on a pleasant Sunday afternoon. "I don't think you truly realize what three years can mean to a person. I can't imagine a killer like yourself must be plagued with thoughts of remorse; I wonder if you even recalled the situation until yesterday." He paused momentarily and the newsgirl could tell that he was glancing at her shadowy figure. "However, I have been deeply involved in this case since the moment I was called from my office to see that cadaver lying on the blood-stained carpet."
Shadow's stomach gave a violent lurch, but she ordered herself to remain visibly detached under the detective's disconcerting stare. She eyed the man coldly, wondering if she could reduce him to ash with her mere stare.
"I must say, when I first took the case I never expected it to last this long," he admitted casually, shrugging slightly and indifferently. "But as the congressman kept his…ah…affairs well hidden, it was more than a bit difficult to track you down. By the time I discovered his activities, you had long since disappeared from Chicago." A slow grin suffused across his mouth until he was smiling almost savagely. Despite the darkness, Shadow thought she could see his large teeth- which seemed to be shaped like bullets- glimmering wickedly. "But here we are- and justice will be served."
"What is it wid ya and justice?" Shadow questioned, a note of fear rising in her voice. "What's da big deal about catchin' me?"
His lips dropped into a grave frown and his eyes flashed dangerously. "Justice is everything. I can't abide by a single criminal walking on the streets. They actually desire hurting innocent people like Anna."
"Anna?" she echoed thoughtfully, but the detective would not allow interruption. He continued as though he hadn't heard her. "I will not rest until I'm about to lock up every heartless, cold-blooded criminal, including yourself. Justice is everything."
A deep, angry vermilion had suffused over the detective's sallow cheeks. He clenched his hands into violent fists, and Shadow imagined them clutching guns, clutching a young woman's fragile neck. She gazed into his eyes and was forced to bite her lower lip to keep from screaming; he had a bestial expression, like a predator consumed with blood lust and prepared to pounce on the nearest available prey. She recalled other eyes which were just was inhumane.
"Who's…who's Anna?" she inquired, voice quavering slightly.
"I will not allow that to happen again," he mumbled as though replying to voices other than Shadow's. "It can't happen ever again."
"What can't?" she whispered, eying him fearfully. She felt her heart beginning to pound against her chest, increasing with speed and insanity with each passing second.
His eyes, wild and frozen, snapped to meet hers. Teeth practically clenched, he growled, "Killers such as yourself can't fathom lawfulness or humanity in the slightest. You're possessed by blood lust, can't even see what's before you because you're always obsessed with killing." His tone was dizzily increasing in speed. "That blindness never ends. Murderers like you can't grasp concepts such as justice, not like I can."
Shadow felt the blood drain from her face and vaguely wondered if her countenance was now as pale as the full moon she could not see. "What happened to Anna?" she demanded with a faint note of frenzy in her voice.
He retreated a step and his hands began to tremble visibly. "That wasn't anything like what you've done," he growled deep in his throat, although Shadow wondered if he were actually speaking for her benefit. "I didn't know she was telling the truth…oh my poor wife…. How could I have known? I am nothing like you!"
She dug her nails into the wall in fear that she would fall unconscious. She longed to melt into the stone and vanish, although this time her reasons for disappearance were far different from what they had previously been. Her blood pounded so madly in her ears that she was nearly unable to hear the words emitted from her own lips. "Anna…ya killed her, didn't ya?"
"You have no idea what you're talking about!" he insisted too forcefully, eyes flashing tumultuously.
"Ya killed her."
"I am nothing like you!"
His teeth and fists were both clenched fiercely now, so that his strong jaw line was clearly defined and his knuckles were the shade of flawless porcelain. Dots of perspiration were flecked along his brow like roughly cut diamonds. Shadow closed her mouth immediately, in fear that he would lash out against her in his rage. She eyed him cautiously, expression blank, and thought, He must've t'ought she was cheatin' on him or somet'ing, and he killed her, but he didn't know hat he was doin'. And dis is what's left of him because of dat heart beneath da floorboards in his mind. She felt ill as she studied him, wondering if she would become just as insane.
The sound of his deep, inconstant breathing echoed against the stone walls. His eyes flashed with fury as he glared at her, eyes becoming narrow ebony slits. "Tomorrow, come hell or high water, I will make certain that you never have the opportunity to kill anyone ever again." Off of her stoic expression, his eyes narrowed closer still. Then a malicious, bestial grin crept around his lips and he strode out of the cell, chuckling sinisterly. Shadow's bones quaked at the sound.
To be continued…please review!