Chapter 4: Down the Rabbit Hole

It took Foggy two days to recover from the funeral enough to storm into the Law Office of Matthew Murdock. He set a stack of files on the secretary's desk with more force than was strictly necessary, then asked thickly.

"Will you get him? I'm not doing it."

She was rising from her chair when Murdock appeared. "How can we help you, Foggy?"

"In case you've forgotten, we have a case coming up," Foggy told him. "We may not be handling it ourselves, but I'd rather go in prepared."

"I haven't forgotten. Is that all?"

"No." Foggy pulled over a chair and sat down sat down. "I'll bet anything that son of a bitch had something to do with what happened to Karen, and I'm here to make sure he stays locked up where he belongs."

"I agree," Murdock pulled another chair over. "And I'm in. Gloria." He turned to his secretary. "I don't have to tell you anything said here is strictly confidential."

She raised an eyebrow. "I did read the employment contract, Mr. Murdock. Confidential is my middle name."

"Gloria…you two on half a first name basis now?" Foggy asked. "When did that happen?"

"After the funeral, about three glasses in," she answered.

"And with that established, you are allowed to call me 'Matt,' Miss Dunham," said Murdock.

"I'll make a note."

"Moving on from that lovely exchange of pleasantries…" Foggy dragged the first file towards himself.

"Actually, I have a few questions, if that's alright."

"Fire away, Gloria," said Foggy.

"You said you believe Fisk is somehow connected to Miss Page's death…"

"'Responsible' is probably the correct term." Foggy looked at Matt.

"We don't have any evidence to support that, Foggy," Matt said reasonably.

"Screw evidence. You haven't always needed it before. My gut tells me it's him."

It was an odd interchange: Foggy, whom she would have considered the more by-the-book, and Murdock, or Matt, who she somehow suspected the more likely to make sudden leaps in judgement.

"Still need catching up," she interjected.

"Karen was involved in one of the initial cases that led to Fisk's arrest," Matt explained. "She blew the lid off one of his operations."

"And she's close to…us," added Foggy, with a sidelong glance at his former partner. "My money's on revenge."

"He's in prison," she pointed out.

"It wouldn't be the first time he's paid someone to do his dirty work for him," said Foggy.

"If that's the line of thinking, a little deductive reasoning would suggest one of you might be next," she suggested.

"We'll be fine," Foggy reassured her.

"But it's worth keeping in mind," Matt said. "Maybe you should find a way to make yourself scarce for a while."

"And leave the blind man to fight off the minions?"

"I'll be fine."

"So will I."

"Gentlemen."

They both turned to look at her.

"If I've learned anything in the last couple of months, it's that neither of you are going anywhere. Can we move on?"

With a sigh, Foggy opened the first file. "You know, you might want to consider putting her under wraps for a while, just in case Fisk gets any ideas."

"Don't worry, Mr. Nelson, I'm quite safe," she answered. "And despite this rather lengthy discussion, I still know next to nothing about this case, so I can't give any of your secrets away."

DD***DD

She had spoken too soon. She knew this when she was less than two blocks from the office. She knew it by the prickle along her spine, the sudden spike in her hair.

And, because that had been the plan all along, she wasn't prepared.

It had always been a skill of hers: know where the threat was coming from. Usually this meant avoiding the threat altogether, but she was past the point where that was an option now, and there was little to do except put her back to the wall and put her faith in Irish luck and a good old-fashioned knack for survival.

Another of her skills.

She kept moving. She moved because, despite the tremor in her limbs, she wanted to draw it out. But her hand slipped into her purse, searching for the jackknife she didn't want her boss knowing she carried.

It happened like a dance everyone knew the steps to but her. One-two-three. A shadow moved, off to her left, just on the inside of an alley. She hitched a breath, then she was flying. Up, up, in the wind and the smog and then she was on a rooftop, catching her breath and taking in the retracting line and the red-clad man in front of her.

"Devil of Hell's Kitchen?" she asked when she could speak again.

"Someone was following you," he answered back. She'd been half-expecting, "I am Batman."

She glanced behind her. "Were they now." Looking back up at him, "Did my boss send you?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Why do you ask that?" He was imposing, standing before her, more so than she would have expected from the comic-esque sketches she'd seen in the papers. But nothing was more intimidating than his eyes. They seemed blank, somehow, covered as they were behind the lenses he wore. Yet they were intent, piercing. Something was clicking in the back of her brain, but she shoved it aside for later.

She pointed behind her. "I'm not far from work, and, from what I heard tonight, you have a history of similar interests. Either you're keeping an eye on him, or he asked you to keep an eye on me."

The Devil before her smirked. "Would it bother you if he had?"

She considered this. "I don't think so. But if he asks, tell him I said he was out of line."

He gestured to the far end of the roof. "Fire escape is that way. It'll put you on a well-lit street with regular cab traffic. Be careful, Miss Dunham."

"Thank you, Mr. Devil."

He was gone before she got the sentence out, and she wasn't quite surprised. She followed his instructions to the letter, thinking that if cab rides got too expensive before the end of this trial, she could always charge them to the office. She doubted Matt would fight her on it.

It wasn't that far to Murry's, and her home. She slipped into the dark of the living room, locked the door behind her, and paused, listening. When she was sure it was safe, she turned to address the figure in the shadows.

"I appreciate the concern, but you're pushing it. He's going to catch on if you keep following me."