Chapter 17: Bombshell
Kathryn knew she wasn't alone in the Jack Ryder situation. The police and the entire city were aware of the wanted man. Her roommate was supportive throughout the whole thing, even though it was an emotional rollercoaster ride. She honored her promise by driving Kathryn to the ferry and picking her up after work, temporarily easing the anxiety. Jack may not have graced his presence over the next few days, didn't mean he had left the city. He could be lurking in the shadows somewhere, watching the star-crossed lovers. The waiting game for his next move matched a ticking time bomb. It didn't help matters when one stubborn man - the man Kathryn needed the most wasn't there to check on her or express his concerns. He didn't bother to greet her when they crossed paths in the hallway, as if she and the situation didn't exist. He was a prideful man, believing he could handle their case alone. Being prideful didn't equal bravery; it was stupidity.
The psychologist struggled to find the professional work mask, even though she concealed the dark circles around her eyes and took some Xanax beforehand. Despite the necessary precautions, it didn't remove the nightmares she had been having the last few nights. Elise told Kathryn what she had heard her friend say in her sleep. As much as Kathryn wanted to take up Elise's suggestion to take time off, she couldn't. Otherwise, Arkham might ask her some questions that Kathryn didn't feel like answering. Putting Jonathan's life on the line wasn't an option.
She faked a smile when Aaron and his partner dragged Edward inside the interview room.
"Doctor Knightly," Aaron greeted her.
"Hello, Officer," Kathryn reciprocated. "Thank you for bringing Edward here."
"No thanks necessary - part of the job."
"Wait!" Edward perked, delaying the guard from leaving. "He still has yet to answer my riddle."
"I have one for you, freak," Aaron snapped. "What is big and wired, and it will be strapped to your face in the next minute."
Edward pursed his lips, "I don't believe it is professional of you to make unnecessary threats, Officer Cash. And the answer to that so-called riddle of yours is a muzzle."
"Thank you, Officer Cash," Kathryn interjected before Aaron did something he might regret later. "I'll take it from here."
Aaron narrowed his eyes at the smug patient, "Don't get any ideas. You hear me?!"
"Oh, I hear you," Edward acknowledged. "Now, you better get going. The doctor and I have a lot to discuss."
Aaron allowed an exhausting huff to escape his lips before departing the room. It seemed like Kathryn wasn't the only one who didn't get a good night's rest. The guard gave Edward one final glare before shutting the door behind him.
Edward was about to express his thoughts, but Kathryn lifted a finger, telling him to wait. She pressed the record button, officially beginning the session, "Patient interview #13. This is Doctor Kathy Knightly with Patient #6059 with Edward Nygma." She looked at the puzzle man with a half-smile, "Good afternoon, Edward."
"Hello, Kathryn," Edward greeted back. "May I finish my thought that you so rudely interrupted?"
"You may," the girl permitted, not bothering to apologize for following protocol.
"I wanted to point out - and correct me if I'm wrong - but I think there is some mutual respect developing."
"Is that so?" she challenged. "When did you start realizing that, Edward? Was there anything in the session we did different-"
"Oh no. No. No. No. Forgive me, Doctor," Edward waved a hand, jiggling the cuffs. "I wasn't talking about our relationship. I was talking about my developing relationship with Cash." Kathryn raised her brows, silently pressing him to continue. "You see, normally, he would call me something much worse than 'freak', not when you're present, of course. Recently, instead of barging into my cell like he owned the place, he respectively knocked on my door before barging in and waving the cuffs in my face. And you might not have noticed, doctor, but he would never conjure up a riddle that is so ridiculous and childish just for me to solve so easily."
"You like him giving you riddles?"
"It keeps my brain waves flowing - something to do when locked up in a cell for so long. It's the thought that counts, wouldn't you agree?"
"Of course, Edward, whatever you say," the words didn't match her cheery voice. Her eyes were on her notes instead of him - it was almost like she wasn't listening. Edward noticed and didn't have a problem calling her out on it.
He pouted with mock concern, "You look tired, Doctor. Are you alright? Is there anything I can help you with?"
To think Kathryn was supposed to be good at putting on a facade. She felt the fake smile might do the trick. Unfortunately, the ingenious enigma wasn't a fool.
She shook her head, refusing to let the mask crack in front of her patient, "No, thank you, Edward. I'm here to help you, remember?"
"Forgive my arrogance, Doctor, but if you think I need your help, well... you're in the right place," he smirked.
"Let's look at it in a different way. Throughout your career, you felt the need to prove your superiority with puzzles and riddles that result in the death of the unfortunate participants."
"And if the participates were smarter, my games would be merely an amusing diversion."
"Instead of frying someone to death."
"These people should be thanking me," Edward sneered," for weeding out the ignorant, the stupid, the useless! I mean, don't you know that this is the worst city in the United States? Crime has skyrocketed by ninety-five percent. Seventy percent is by corruption, while the other twenty percent is by solo acts of desperation." Kathryn suppressed the urge to rub out the throbbing sensation in her left temple. She expected to hear riddles and questions, not arithmetic. Perhaps The Mathematician was exactly what Gotham needed and not that other name Edward used for himself. Then again, if he used the same gimmicks and challenged somebody with an equation...
"And the five percent?" Kathryn guessed, praying that she didn't miscalculate. The last thing she wanted was to look like a fool due to the lack of sleep and caffeine intake. "You said ninety-five. You broke down at least ninety percent of crime. What was the remaining-"
Edward scoffed, "You have a psychiatry degree, Doctor. You tell me." Kathryn understood, writing down her notes. Five percent - untreated mental illness. "You know if you participate in my games," he offered, "I don't doubt you'll survive."
"Appreciate the faith, Edward," Kathryn grumbled.
"Believe me, Doctor. It is rare for me to put somebody in that .5 percent margin. Then again, you might be better off in the remaining 4.5 percentile."
"Which is?" Kathryn cocked a questionable brow, glancing up at him slightly.
"Two groups," he lifted two fingers. "You have the first half of lazy bafoons who could care less about recycling. While the other half are idealists who foolishly believe they can make a difference - change the world for the better!" he fist pumped, mocking the voice of a passionate politician.
"Foolish? So you think no one is allowed to be optimistic? One person can't make a difference?"
"Not one," Edward hissed. "Can't you see? This city is a lost cause. Hope will only lead you to the dreaded path of disappointment."
"How do you know?" His mouth twitched at that question, not answering her right away. "Were you once a part of the idealist group, Edward?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"Tell me about that?" Kathryn knew better than to expect a direct answer. "When was the last time you were disappointed in something or someone?"
Edward paused, slanting his eyes up while humming in deep thought - if he was thinking, "I could say I'm disappointed in you for asking these juvenile questions-" Kathryn allowed an amusing smile to slip while he was speaking. "-some that are obvious and not worth repeating," he finished in a low, angry tone, almost warning her not to repeat herself. It was as if he believed to have the authority to punish her if she disobeyed - how delusional.
"Juvenile like Cash's riddle?"
"Correct."
"I thought you like questions, Edward," Kathryn challenged in a playful tone. "Keep the brain waves flowing, remember?" The man scoffed, rolling his eyes and leaning back against his seat. "Better than being cooped up in your cell for hours with nothing to do?" His eyes narrowed, remaining quiet, almost as if he was considering her argument. "We both know my questions can be repetitive and maybe inferior to your superior intelligence-"
"Are you mocking me, Doctor?" he asked, not taking kindly at how she talked about his intellect.
"No. I'm just saying that if it's true - if it's too simple for you, then what's stopping you from answering them?" His corner lip twitched, fighting back a reaction. She would like to think that he was impressed by her logic. She was challenging him, and he craved the challenge.
He did speak, but not the answer that Kathryn wanted as expected. "If you had to choose between the corrupted boss or an abusive lover, which one would you pick to spare and why?"
Kathryn perked in disbelief. She predicted a gruesome riddle, but this was horrific and gutwrenching all the same, "What are you trying to say, Edward?"
Edward shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, "Nothing at all. It's a hypothetical question that makes me scratch my head at night: the greedy but hopeless procrastinator or the beautiful heartbreaker?"
"From what death?"
"Death could mean many things, doctor - prison, slavery, labor. The interpretation of death could potentially be poetical."
"I don't think an electric chair is considered poetic, Edward."
Edward shook his head, "No. I suppose not. Still... if you had to pick..."
Kathryn dropped her pen, pursing her lips in deep thought. Of course, she knew who Edward would pick, but she refused to go down that rabbit hole with him. She didn't want to participate in this game at all. "Does it have anything to do with my question involving disappointment?" He smirked briefly, not giving anything away.
"You were once a records clerk at the GCPD. You have the full potential to be somebody, and yet..." she shook her head almost in disbelief, "you chose to kill."
"Tell me something I don't know, Kat."
"I figured you come after the officers who demoted you when you could've easily been the head of the cybercrime unit. We all know you got the brains for the job."
The riddle man couldn't help but laugh at the statement. Doctor Young was never this open in stating her opinion before.
"Wow," he breathed out. "You think so highly of me, doctor? A criminal patient like me?" he asked, gesturing to himself.
"Why target the college professors?" she focused on the subject. "The bank clerks? The board members of Wayne Enterprises? The police couldn't find a connection."
"Does there have to be a connection, Kat?" Edward challenged. "You and I both know that in this city, not everything is black and white. Sometimes, there are shades of grey... and the rest is gushing red." Everyone in this city had their share of filthy sins, including Kathryn. Her ledger stained the second she had pecked her superior's mouth.
"You mentioned a heartbreaker," she pressed. "Has someone rejected you in the past, picked some brainless jerk with muscles over you?"
Edward's eyes brightened, and he smirked at her, a mischievous child peeking to see Santa on Christmas Eve. "It's funny how you asked me that, doctor. Maybe if we had crossed paths in better circumstances, we could've hit it off..." Kathryn couldn't help but snort in amusement. Fortunately, Edward ignored the reaction to finish his train of thought, "...considering that I'm not so different from your boss and lover. He, too, has a thing for..." he cleared his throat, finding a proper word to describe him, "dominance."
"My boss?" Kathryn laughed, trying to ignore the spark in her nervous system, feeling the ignition in her chest. "Seriously? Doctor Arkham is married-"
"Please, don't act like infidelity is non-existent between doctors. It happens more than you think. Besides, I wasn't talking about Jeremiah. I'm talking about your other boss." The woman's heart began to race, mentally shook her head, denying that this was happening. She wasn't ready. Where was Crane when she needed him most? She could end the session now.
"The chief administrator," he elaborated. "Scarecrow."
"Who?" she furrowed her brows in confusion.
"Forgive me, Doctor. It's what the inmates call him. Every intellectually-challenged moron knows his name, even you. You know who I am referring to unless you are as stupid as you look. Let me spell it out for you. The handsome yet intimidating Doctor Jonathan Crane." Now it was his turn to snort in amusement while the woman denied the bold accusation.
"Oh, look at you. Trying to pretend you don't know what I'm talking about - how cute," he cooed.
"I know what you're talking about. It's just that what you're saying is not true!"
"I'm not the one you should convince. I'm just the inmate with an obsession-compulsive disorder, remember?" Nygma insisted. "People talk, and I just happen to hear the rumors outside my cell." Kathryn couldn't believe what she was hearing. Were doctors talking about her and Crane? John Doe, who was supposed to rot alone in a patted cell? Or was this one of Edward's mind games to rile her up?
She couldn't help but wonder, "What do they say?"
"Does it matter? Seriously. These people can't find anything better to do - other than waste their freedom of speech through gossip. Then again, the IQ in this place is disturbing."
"You don't believe it?" she asked without thinking, not bothering to mask the hopeful pitch in her tone.
Edward sighed, "Look... Hypothetically, if what these morons are saying about you two fucking in a janitor's closet is true-" Kathryn gasped at the choices words. "-and have the sex tape to back it up-"
"Okay, this is inappropriate and inaccurate," Kathryn refused to lose her virginity in a closet, though she tolerated the bleach smell long enough for a quick makeout. "This session is over," she reached for the stop button on the recorder, only for Edward to grab her wrist. He ignored her demand to let go while he continued rambling as if she didn't interrupt him.
"If someone does kiss and tell, not only will Doctor Arkham dismiss Crane (finally providing everyone a public service), he will no longer have me greet your ingenue, plump face again." The psychologist tried to look intimidating, but her quivering lip and watery eyes told a different story. He seemed calm and smug by the petty struggle. "Let's face it, Kat, you have gained at least seven pounds from our last session. You should cut back on sweets - mostly the chocolate."
"Seriously, Edward, you have to go there?" Because of that incident, it took a while for Kathryn to go near a chocolate bar.
Edward laughed, "Forgive me, Kat. I couldn't resist."
Her fingers fiddled underneath the table, ready to summon Cash with a push of another button.
"You know pushing the panic button won't change anything," Edward warned. "While I don't care about your poor choice of men, your job is at stake by your own stupidity."
"And you should also know that spreading the lie to Arkham won't change your fate either," Kathryn argued.
"How so?"
"I thought you were smart, Edward. This won't get you out of Arkham faster. It won't stop Doctor Arkham from referring you to another doctor, someone far worse than me. Someone who is - as you say - a lazy baffoon." Edward raised a brow, squeezing her wrist briefly. "If you want to take that chance, then, by all means, blow the whistle. I dare you."
There was an awkward pause between them; only the clock ticked above the door. Kathryn allowed the wave of satisfaction to wash over her, the same powerful feeling when Zeus got down on his knees. It was exhilarating. Crane would've been proud. The twitch in the corner of Edward's lips told Kathryn he was also impressed. It didn't mean he was willing to congratulate her for it.
After a moment to consider all his options, his grip on her wrist loosened as she yanked it free.
Kathryn breathed heavily, descending back in her chair, away from the buttons. She pulled her curls back, a moment to pull herself together before deciding whether or not to end the session.
"I can see Crane rubbing off on you."
"Thanks," Kathryn grumbled.
"That's not a compliment." He wasn't the only one who believed that. No matter. Kathryn still won this round. "You know you never answered my question," Edward shifted the subject, much to the woman's relief.
"And you never answered mine," she retorted in exhaustion. "It seems unfair, don't you think? Going around in circles because we don't feel comfortable answering each other's questions."
"I never said I was uncomfortable with your questions."
"What other reason is there? How can I help you if you choose not to help yourself? Hm?"
"I should say the same about you. Don't think I didn't notice your physical change of appearance, and it's not for the better, my dear," he extended his hand over his view in disgust. Kathryn subtly concealed her blouse and the heart-shaped locket with her lab coat. "What the pig sees in you remains a mystery, and it's not the kind I care to solve."
"Who?"
"Doesn't matter! You allowed Crane to put you down like a dog." She cringed, enduring the gruesome images of her dog's supposed murder - one involved a missing leg. Edward was going around in circles again. She needed a new strategy to crack him. "And it's taking a toll on you."
"I know you think you don't need me," she began.
"I don't!" he insisted. "I don't need some insecure, ungrateful, greedy whore to ask redundant, ludicrous questions."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Edward."
"I don't need your pity either!" he cried, slamming his hands on the table. "It's worthless! Stop pretending you give a shit about me because you don't." Kathryn opened her mouth to rebuttal, but Edward didn't want to hear it. "Stop it! We both know you don't! Nobody out there cares about the people stuck in this hellhole. Stickey and Julie - they don't give a damn about me either. They would rather go about their day without offering me a simple hello or a glance longer than one millisecond." Stickley and Julie - Edward's former boss and love interest.
"Okay, well, I'm here," Kathryn gestured herself. "I'm looking at you," she gestured to him, who rubbed his face and huffed with annoyance, "and I told you-"
"That's not the point! Can't your Wernicke's area comprehend what I'm saying? You're no different than them. You're here, but you don't see me!" he pointed at his face. "You see me as another faceless patient - a bonus to your paycheck - nothing more!"
"Is that what you think of yourself?"
"No! It's what you and everyone else think of me."
"How do you know? Most of these people you killed are strangers. Did you give them a chance to know you before you strapped them to a chair?"
"I did give them a chance! They didn't give me a chance!" Edward blinked, taken back by his admission. He couldn't retract the words if he wanted to; it was too late. It's out there. He wanted to smack himself for not seeing it sooner. She dug a rabbit hole for him, and he jumped in without a blindfold. Kathryn wanted to celebrate on the spot but remained professional in her seat. She sucked in her lips to prevent a smirk from forming.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" he challenged.
She cleared her throat to even her voice and say, "What is there to say, Edward? I think it's obvious and not worth repeating, don't you think?" He hummed in acknowledgment, perking his brows briefly. That obnoxious smug returned to his face, yet it couldn't contradict his defeat.
He nodded, "Best question you asked today."
Kathryn ended the recording.
~000~000~000~
"Here you go," Elise presented the customer's order on the table with a grin, "One French vanilla latte, no ice." She could hardly see the brunette's face, not because of her low ponytail. The woman was too busy on her phone, messaging someone - a boyfriend or work colleague perhaps. "Ma'am?" she pressed, gaining the customer's attention.
"Sorry," she forced a smile that Elise became familiar with. The woman wasn't present due to her brown eyes that shifted anywhere but the person she was talking to. "Thank you."
"No problem," Elise rolled her eyes unbeknownst to the woman. "An attorney's job never gets done." Finally, there was eye contact.
"I never said I was an attorney," the woman questioned.
"You didn't have to," Elise pointed at the key observations with her pen. "You got the briefcase, the professional get-up, the badge, but your messages to Carl Finch gave you away."
The baffled attorney quickly concealed her phone screen by flipping the device face down on the table, "You were reading my messages? That's an invasion of privacy, ma'am."
"Sorry if I was standing at an angle where I could easily read the large font on your screen," Elise apologized, though it didn't sound sincere. "And I am sorry that Carl couldn't make it to this lunch date, Miss Dawes. A district attorney's job can be time-consuming, too."
Rachel tilted her head and pinched her brows together suspiciously, "You know me?"
"Carl is a regular. He talks about you all the time."
"Does he?" she asked in disbelief.
"He should. You two are dating, after all," Elise declared. Rachel scoffed, shaking her head. The waitress blinked in confusion, "What? Is he wrong?"
"It's not something I want to advertise."
"Oh, because you are colleagues, and you're afraid your coworkers might think you're sleeping with the boss for a promotion."
"It doesn't work like that."
"Okay, for a good case, then. He is in charge of assigning cases, isn't he? I mean, I understand how the process works somewhat. I did study pre-law back in Gotham U." She was oblivious to the woman's disinterest and exhaustion. Rachel was massaging the migraine in her temple and breathed out with annoyance. "Although it has been a while-"
"Ma'am, I don't want to be rude, but what goes on in my life, whether it'd be personal or work-related, is none of your business. I'm sure Carl doesn't mind you, but he is not here. Right now, I just want to enjoy my time by myself before I have to get back to work." She sipped her drink only to huff and gently shake the glass. Instead of hearing the swish of liquid, there was a rattle of ice clinking inside.
Elise pressed her lips together, nodding and enduring the awkward tension between them, "Right... Sorry." She picked up the drink to rectify the mistake, but the woman customer took it back, insisting that she'll drink it regardless of the cold hurting her teeth. "Do you want anything else, Miss Dawes?"
"No, thank you," Rachel replied in an even tone, a false smile plastered across her face. She handed her a twenty-dollar bill for the drink. "Keep the change." Anything to keep the blonde away from her table. Rachel was paid well to be an uptight hotshot, but she could earn more if she loosened up a bit.
Elise didn't mind it either way, "Hope you have a nice day, Miss Dawes." As she was walking away to attend her other tables, she noticed a crowd forming in the parking lot - a dozen people, maybe less - specifically where her car was parked. Hopefully, they will disperse in time for Elise to back out. She wondered what was happening there. Was somebody performing without a permit again? Her boss wouldn't be too happy about that.
"Lise! Lise, come quickly!" her blonde coworker was frazzled, placing a hand against her chest while gasping for air.
"Did you forget your inhaler, Court-"
"It's your car!"
"What?!" Many eyes looked their way, intrigued by the topic. Before Elise could ask Courtney to elaborate, she was dragged outside into the parking lot to see her car coated in yellow paint. Nobody tossed a paint bucket on it, judging by the lack of splattered paint. Instead, someone used a can of spray paint to write words all over the exterior, especially the windows. What it said nearly emptied Elise's breakfast into the toilet.
PROPERTY OF FALCONE'S WHORE
Not only did someone let the cat out of the bag, they blatantly advertised her secret like a mobile billboard. Elise lost it. She screamed at the people around her for answers, demanding to know who they saw and where the perpetrator had gone. If she was lucky, if the guy was sadistic enough, he might stick around to embrace her reaction. This was a public place. People come into the cafe to pay and eat, then leave. Some people sit down to enjoy their meal, while others hurry in for a quick cup of coffee before work. Someone had to have seen something. This guy wasn't Harry Houdini.
Meanwhile, Rachel was observing the scene from the front deck. It didn't take long for her to discover the writing. To think this was supposed to be a typically boring lunch break. Rachel didn't expect her server to become a potential witness for her most challenging case. This could be the glimmer of hope that the prosecution had prayed for a long time. This bombshell, unfortunately, ignited under embarrassing circumstances. Rachel witnessed a crime that must be reported. For that, she dialed her phone to the police.
~000~000~000~
Kathryn was preparing to leave the building, only to get sidetracked by Emma calling her name. The psychologist's eyes widened at the sight of balloons, flowers, and a tiny wrapped box on the front desk. She held her breath while her hands began to shake, not taking her eyes off it. The terrible memories from Valentine's Day crossed her mind.
The receptionist put the caller on hold to address the doctor properly, "I have something for you."
"No," Kathryn declined firmly, extending a hand to keep a distance.
Emma furrowed her brows in confusion, "Excuse me?"
"No, whatever that is," the psychologist pointed at the gifts, overtalking Emma. "I don't want it! Send it back!"
"Doctor Knightly," Emma exasperated. Her eyes enlarged, completely horrified. "Calm down. It's not-"
"Do you know who sent that? Was it John Doe? I will not fall for his trick again!" Kathryn stopped to catch her breath, towering over the counter before lowering her voice to Emma in a hushed tone. "Get Aaron."
"Kathryn, we don't need to-"
"Emma, please, get Aaron now. Oh, and get Jonathan too! John Doe is his patient, after all. I'd like to know how John Doe pulled this off from solitary confinement." Fortunately, Kathryn didn't have to wait long for security. A passing guard stopped by the desk to check on the women.
"Is everything okay, ladies?"
"No, it's not!" Kathryn admitted. "I need Aaron here! I need somebody to analyze that box," she pointed at the present. "It might have a bomb or something deadly inside!" The security officer was speechless, caught off guard.
"Okay, um..." Judging from the frazzled attitude, the man was new to the job, probably his first day. It almost made Kathryn feel sorry for him if she wasn't in this situation again. "Let-let me see - if you could hold on one second, I'll get Cash for you," he patted himself for his walkie to summon the officer. "Just stay calm, okay? By the way... how often does this place receive bomb threats?"
"Kat, those aren't for you!" Emma cried. Her increased volume was something Kathryn hadn't heard from the meek secretary before. The guard stopped while the psychologist's lips parted, but no words came out. Their silence allowed Emma to elaborate.
"All of this is for Doctor Arkham," Emma was nice enough to open the present, revealing a diamond tennis bracelet inside. "It's an anniversary gift for his wife. I signed off the delivery myself."
Now Kathryn felt like an idiot. She apologized to the guard and Emma for making assumptions and fussing over nothing. Emma understood the stress, for she was there when Kathryn collapsed in front of her. The guard departed though still on edge about what he got himself into, and the women didn't help matters by not directly answering his question.
"It seems like everyone has been receiving gifts recently," Emma spoke her mind, "even Doctor Crane had received a package from a secret admirer."
Kathryn pinched her brows in confusion, "Somebody sent Jonathan gifts?"
"Only one, about a couple of weeks ago, I believe. Not sure who, though. Around the same time, two cops questioned Doctor Crane about something."
"Oh..." Slowly Kathryn was putting the pieces together. It seemed that Jonathan was keeping more secrets from her. She understood why he didn't include her in his stalking situation. Still, he should've told her.
"Do you know what the cops want from him?" Emma asked.
Kathryn shook her head, "No. How should I know?"
"Oh, I figured you would know because you two are..." Emma trailed off to see Kathryn's challenging expression - raised brows and straight mouth. The petite didn't utter a word, yet her silence dared Emma to finish that statement. "Never mind. My mistake."
"Mm-hm," Kathryn hummed.
"Anyway, your roommate called," Emma declared, changing the subject. "She tried your cell, but I guess you were in the middle of a session." Kathryn rummaged through her bag to find her phone.
"What did she want?"
"She just said she might be running a little late. Said to call her back when you have the chance..." Emma leaned forward, interlacing her fingers together, and whispered. "I - um - I hope everything is okay with your friend. I mean, she did sound distressed over the phone." Kathryn narrowly gazed at the receptionist, questioning her statement before finding her phone inside her coat pocket. Sure enough, Elise repeatedly tried to call. Kathryn hoped Elise was okay and now patiently waiting for her by the ferry stop.
"Hey, Lise, I'm on my-"
"Kat, thank god!" Elise cried. "You're okay!"
"What? Why? Why wouldn't I be?" Kathryn noticed Emma's eyes on her work but not doing the work. She was eavesdropping, so Kathryn hightailed closer to the doors away from prying ears. "Lise, what's happened?"
"Don't - I don't want you to freak out. Okay, but..." Elise's words didn't match the panic in her voice. "I was with the police earlier. I had to file a report."
"What for? Are you okay?" Kathryn tried to hold on to her inner therapist, who couldn't react to groundbreaking bombshells. She must remain neutral. "Elise, tell me what happened."
"Jack - he... he stopped by at the cafe today."
"Okay..." her heart raced at those words, praying for some good news for a change. "Did the police arrest him?"
"No, he... I guess he was in disguise or something because nobody had seen him or recognized him. But I know he was there, and it's not to get a cup of coffee. Anyway, long story short, he's gone, and so is my fuckin' car!"
"What?! Your car's been stolen again?"
"No, not stolen - vandalized. Jack treated my car with a free paint job, and there were no witnesses around to stop him. You should've seen it, Kat! It was awful with all those people around - oh my god!"
"I'm so sorry, Lise. Are you able to drive it?"
"Are you kidding me?! He didn't mess with my engine or anything, but I don't want to drive around the city with all that writing on my car! It was embarrassing enough that a dozen people have seen it and looked at me like - like I'm some kind of sleaze!"
"What did it say?"
"It... you don't want to know," Elise dismissed. Kathryn assumed it had something to do with Elise's side job. "Thank God, one of the customers drives a tow truck and was nice enough to take it to a body shop to wash all that paint off. Although, my boss wasn't too happy about the situation. He kicked me out early so I could get my shit together. He didn't allow me to take my share of the tip jar..." The blonde paused to take a deep breath.
"It's going to be okay, Lise."
Elise huffed, "I know. Look, just hang tight, alright? I'll be there as soon as I can."
"No. No. No," Kathryn departed the building to take the ferry. "I'll come to you. Are you at the condo?"
"Not yet. My car's still at the body shop. It's going to take a while for them to wash that paint off my windows, so I need to stick around. Look, you don't have to wait for me. I'll be fine. Just call a taxi and go home. Call me when you get there."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah..." Elise trailed off. Kathryn could hear voices in the background that quickly escalated into bickering. She ceased the pace to listen - the voices were muffled, and it was hard to make out what they were saying, only to assume that Elise was arguing with someone. Kathryn asked questions, and it took too long for Elise to answer - too long for comfort. Finally, sometime later, she heard her friend again.
"Oh my God."
"Lise," Kathryn pressed, "is everything okay?"
The blonde let out a bitter laugh, no doubt shaking her head in dismay, "Just peachy, Kat," she responded with false sweetness. "I'm just fucking peachy."
"Lise, talk to me."
"I'm sorry, Kat, but I gotta go. I'll call you when I get done, alright? Okay? Okay. Bye." Before Kathryn could protest, Elise hung up. Kathryn scoffed and stared at the phone in disbelief. It appeared that Crane wasn't the only one acting secretive. The psychologist couldn't stay still any longer; otherwise, she'll become prey. First things first, she needed to call a cab ahead of time before she missed the ferry ride back.
She turned around and gasped at the sight of him. He didn't alert his presence, only stood quietly by the entrance, away from Emma's view through the glass doors.
Her mouth parted, but no words came out. What exactly could she say to the man who abandoned his girlfriend during the most difficult time of her life? Worse than what happened on Valentine's Day. He glanced at the parking lot, specifically his car, before looking back at her. He could've left her anytime, but he didn't do that. Instead, he silently offered her a safe ride home. It seemed to him that she had been punished enough. As if Kathryn couldn't retrieve his telepathic message, Crane beckoned her to come by his fingers moving back and forth.
Kathryn could hear Edward's voice repeating the words in her head.
'You allowed Crane to put you down like a dog.'
Then Elise.
'You don't deserve this, Kat.'
She closed her mouth and tensed her face to show Crane how she really felt about him at the moment. Fury boiled her bloodstream, forcing her heart to beat rapidly. After all this time, he still didn't bother to say the words, not even having the decency to come to her. It didn't matter the location. He expected her to do all the work in this relationship.
Kathryn shook her head in defiance. He repeated the signal. She mouthed out 'no' while he nodded and mouthed out 'now,' pointing at the ground between his feet where he wanted her to be. She escalated further to show that she meant serious business. She bumped her fists together - her silent but offensive gesture to say 'fuck you, Crane' - before marching towards the trail to the ferry with her head held high. He didn't call her name. Even if he did, she wouldn't go with him. She loved dogs, but it didn't mean she wanted to become one.
~000~000~000~
After paying the taxi driver, she barged into Falcone's office building in rage. She must talk to Falcone. There were only a few people who were aware of her double life, but only three knew that Falcone was her sugar daddy, including herself and (unfortunately) Crane. The man wasn't stupid enough to risk Kathryn's life like that. She wanted to know to whose friend Falcone bragged and how much it would take to keep that person's mouth shut.
The secretary informed her that Carmine Falcone wasn't in the office right now, but she allowed the blonde inside the office to wait. Elise couldn't help but poke around a little bit. There was nothing in here that caught her interest. This was supposed to be a legit business office, after all.
Elise opened a cigar box on his desk which turned out to be a music box - a ballerina was spinning in tune to a jingle that she couldn't recognize. The man had tickets to a ballet show last Christmas. Elise was his plus one, only for Falcone to cancel on her because his daughter changed her mind at the last second. The blonde didn't mind it, for she hated ballet, and also Falcone offered compensation - more gifts and no sex, the perfect way to end the night.
She tugged a few drawers; most were locked except one on top that contained a large whisky bottle and a box of matches. She was almost tempted to take a swig from the bottle. Instead, she moved the mouse side-to-side, awakening the computer only that it required a password.
Moving on to the bookshelf that carried encyclopedias, law books, and other titleless books that she doubted Falcone had touched in a long time, judging by the collecting dust on the edges, not even the white candle on a silver-polished stick. In her opinion, that candle on a shelf wasn't a safe place to light it. Fire, wood, and paper - not a good combination. There was a black hardcover book next to it with the sparkling golden font on the cover - The Family Album.
Elise's lips twitched and stifled a laugh at the thought of Carmine Falcone in diapers. Maybe there were some pictures of his kids on here. She settled on the leather chair and spun it around to place her feet on his desk. Carmine wouldn't mind walking into the sight as long as she could pay for it with a good ole fashioned spanking.
The first few pages didn't involve black and white wedding pictures or kids causing mischief with the parents laughing in the background. Most involved grown-ups who didn't resemble Falcone's family tree. In fact, this wasn't a family photo album at all. Elise's eyes grew wide at a few recognizable faces doing bad things, like growing a marijuana plantation and the mayor's wife making out with another woman in a car. Elise wanted to throw the book across the room after seeing a father paying off a nurse to switch a stillborn baby with a live one. It was no wonder the book cover was black. The rest involved petty stuff involving civilians, like illegal gambling, drug dealing, and trading stolen electronics.
Finally, she spotted Crane in the photo album, some that involved Kathryn. She made sure to discard the photos of the petite by folding and stuffing them in her purse. She continued through the book to ensure she didn't miss anything.
On the next page, Elise wasn't sure what she was looking at. There was a newspaper clipping of a young girl going berzerk at a shopping mall, assaulting a Santa Clause mannequin with a candy cane. Flora Neal was a nursing major and volleyball player.
Elise recalled this story once before. The details were a blur, for she wasn't close to a Flora Neal in school. If this took place while Elise was in school, maybe after. Looking back, Elise cringed at the memory of laughing without knowing the full story. She once thought the girl was off her rocker and mistaken Santa Clause for an ex-boyfriend. According to the student's blood test, the police concluded that she had ingested a hallucinogenic drug that could permanently damage her brain. Nobody knew exactly how the girl was the only one who got affected, for she was last seen celebrating Christmas with friends at a Gotham U frat house. Her friends did recall Flora drinking 'some weird looking punch from a plastic bowl' that nobody had claimed ownership nor was the police able to locate for analysis.
Flipping over the next page revealed another college newspaper clipping announcing a new psychology professor. It dawned on Elise that Doctor Jonathan Crane used to teach psychology at Gotham U - hard to believe considering his young age at the time, but his name and picture were on the column. Crane departed the school under mysterious circumstances. Around the same time, the poor girl was in a mental hospital. Could it be a coincidence? Falcone didn't think so, and neither did Elise. Crane's secret went beyond a simple work affair with a colleague. This was darker than Elise could imagine, vigorously churning her stomach in somersaults, forcing her to either throw up or gag.
The door creaked open, perking the woman's attention like a deer sensing danger nearby. Unfortunately, it was closer than she anticipated. It was too late to react. The boss entered the office, dressed in a suit and a black coat like he was ready for a funeral. Even if he didn't plan on attending one, Elise knew one was happening tonight, and that pistol Falcone carried with him was her mandatory invitation.
