This chapters a little dark and has some scenes in it which aren't pretty; if you don't like such scenes I suggest you picture a naked Joker whilst skim reading over them! There's not much in the way of Joker/Maddie in this chapter but this is all needed for the story...I give you chapter 21!
Chapter 21: Danger Hides Everywhere.
The world is a dangerous place to live; it's full of dark corners, evil people and not knowing who to trust. You should never turn your back on a threatened danger and try to run away from it. If you do that, you will double the danger. You can't pretend it doesn't exist; it always will until you face up to it.
Gordon's POV
Another day, another death in Gotham. Stephen had made the phone call to him, telling him the body of a young woman had been found and they needed him. So far he had learnt that she had been found in Gotham Park, the rest of the details Stephen said he would spare him until he arrived at the scene. The younger man's parting words had been, "skip breakfast." His stomach was now churning at the possibilities of what could be awaiting him. He hurries over to Stephen, who stands by the police catering truck, a burning cup of coffee in his hand.
"Hey Gordon, get yourself a hot drink, I think you'll need it. And brace yourself: it's not a pretty sight."
He winces, the hot liquid burning his throat, "when is any murder in Gotham pretty? Is it a Joker vic?"
"I don't think it is; the face is in too good a shape to be a Joker Vic... well it's in better shape than what it could be. A group of teenagers found her on their way to school this morning. They were cutting through the park; it's a shortcut to their school, suppose this wasn't what they were expecting when they woke up this morning."
He looks around the now hectic park; "where are the kids?"
Stephen squashes his cup in his hand, throwing it skilfully into the trash; "They gave their statements this morning, the two girls were pretty shook up, we let them go as soon as their parents came this morning. They're only fourteen; one of them has just moved here, not the best welcoming."
The black coroners van draws into view; the new morgue technician, Andrew Morgan, raises his hand in welcoming, the team do the same.
"I've never seen anything like it," Stephen mutters to him, he nods towards the cornered off area of the park.
"Is she fresh?"
Stephen shakes his head, "hard to tell really, I'd say no more than a couple of days, but don't quote me on that, I'm sure Morgan will give us a better timeline. What do you think to him anyway?"
He shrugs, he doesn't yet know the man, but as long as he gets the job done, "seems decent so far, took over from doc well, I've had no complaints about him as yet. Should we get over there?"
He tosses the rest of his coffee in the trash; it's lukewarm and pretty disgusting, he wouldn't give it to a dog let alone a human. They make their way down the narrow lane to get near the river bank; a white forensic tent already has already been erected, paper-suited scientists and cops milling in and around it. A large box of paper suits, masks, over shoes and rubber gloves is brought over to them, they each suit up. Sarah Travis, a forensic expert, comes out of the tent, looking at him and shaking her head.
"It's awful in there Gordon, I won't be eating breakfast and that's for sure. She hasn't been killed on site; someone brought her here and set her up. By the looks of it there isn't much forensic evidence; maybe we can come up with more when we get the body to the lab, until then she's all yours."
They both offer their thanks and out of nerves he adjusts his mask, following Stephen into the tent.
"She's been badly beaten, her neck is almost severed, God knows what it will be like when we go to move her."
Morgan points to the upper part of her body, the skin marked; "She's got abrasions all over her body; her hair has been recently dyed, it's hard to tell what she looked like before this."
A rookie cop turns away and hurries out of the tent; he barely looks up.
"How long has she been here?"
"I'd estimate time of death between two or three days ago, she's lost a lot of blood, reason her skin is so white."
He's impatient now and jerks his head outside; "Morgan can I have a word please?"
They step outside, drawing the tent cover over, "God what animal did this to her? This isn't a Joker job; we have to have another sicko out there."
"The cuts aren't surgical; whoever did this doesn't have any surgical skills. The knife was slightly jagged, but give me more time and I'll know more, I'll do the full autopsy tonight if all goes well."
It will take a while, he knows that but still there is the urgency for the want of more details, the tent flaps open, his team comes out, Stephen leading them, even he looks shaken up. By the time he discards his suit, the others are already heading up to the car park. Already a gathering of spectators has gathered on the road. Their view is in perfect alignment with the position of the victim; the killer wanted their victim to be found quickly. He could even still be here; the thought chills him and he steps aside to let the body bag holding the young woman move by him.
By the time he gets back to the office a large white board has already been erected; Stephen stands in front of it, dictating what should go where. He moves to stand in front of them; the group instantly settles and Stephen flips open his notepad. "
Okay let's get started, we need to find out who the victim is. We'll get photos out, see what the papers come up with, but so far no one has a clue who she is. Morgan will take prints but whether they come back with something is anyone's guess."
Stephen raises his hand, "will the body be ready for us to look at tonight?"
"Morgan reckons yes, told us to give him a while to get the basics done, but we can go down there in a couple of hours. Until then we go through missing person files, we check out the area in which she was found, see if there's any witnesses."
Three hours later and the missing person search had yet to yield any results. None of the residents of the riverside houses had seen anything suspicious, not even an unknown car. The area was not well lit; the lights had blown and nothing had been down to replace them, so their killer could have come and gone undetected. What they did know was that a man walking his girlfriend home had passed the area at three and had seen nothing; therefore their killer had deposited the body between three and six. The message finally arrives for them to go to the morgue; leaving the rest of the team he and Stephen set off for the first findings.
"Time of death is now two days prior to the find, as I said before she wasn't killed at the site, you will find I doubt anything there. The head was very nearly separated from the body, this was done out of complete anger and rage. She has severe bruising to her back, wrists and ankles, her wrists and ankles have markings on them, which I would say were from a wire."
Morgan holds her hand carefully in his, gesturing to the wound, "The skin on the right wrist has been cut down to the muscle, she must have struggled in an attempt to free herself. It would also appear she has numerous blows to certain parts of her body, they look like they were made from a weapon of some sort, my suggestion would be a bat."
"Shit Gordon, some of this looks like the Mac Dawson case..."
He takes his glasses off, his eyes never leaving the young woman, "I'm not so sure it is he'd want us to know it was him. This is sick yes, the Joker no, we're looking for someone else."
Stephen nods towards the woman, pointing to the cut to her throat, "Who else do we know is sick enough to do this? It won't take much even in Gotham to narrow it down."
"Have you ever seen anything like this before?"
Morgan smiles at Stephen's question, he's from Chicago, compare to Gotham the murder count may as well be nonexistent.
"I'm afraid it gets worse gentlemen. There are multiple lacerations to her forehead, a quarter inch deep abrasion to the side of her nose and the bridge. Multiple fractions of the skull are visible; her nose is in bad shape, her left cheek bone is severely bruised, her eye very swollen. It looks like someone has made a patchwork quilt out of this poor woman; she has literally been stabbed and slashed almost everywhere, a piece of flesh is missing from her thigh. There are multiple criss-cross lacerations to her arms and legs; her back has also been injured."
Morgan pulls the lower section of the green cloth back and points to her stomach; "On her stomach are the words 'eye for an eye', spelt wrong but they've been carved into here nonetheless."
Gordon draws the sides of his mouth down in distaste, "was she alive when these wounds were inflicted?"
"I'm afraid so, she must have gone through untold agony and pain; they were done to ensure she went through much pain. Cause of death the cut to the throat."
"What could have caused the cuts to her body?"
"Hard to say, perhaps a pen knife, either way it was nothing surgical."
Morgan turns his attention to the side of her head; gently he rolls it to the side, "took quite a blow to her right temple here, just above the ear."
Stephen moves to take the picture; taking the close ups as required. Morgan waits until Stephen steps to the side, then, drawing back the hair he points to a dark circular bruise, blood crusted around it.
"I'd say it was a blunt, round shaped object, about the size of a small coin. I couldn't hazard a guess as to say what it could be; the area around it is too messed up to even tell. It went in quite deeply though as though her face was smashed against it, it wouldn't have killed her but it would have rendered her unconscious."
"Have her prints been taken?"
"Yes Stephen, I sent them off to the lab, should be back with you soon enough. There were no fibres or hairs on her, she's been scrubbed clean; you're guy is hiding his tracks well. The tips of his fingers are rubbed raw; she has almost a disinfectant smell to her."
Stephen sets a hand down on her head, picking a strand of thick brown hair up, "her hair doesn't look like it's meant to be brunette, looks like it's a crappy dye job too, did she do this?"
Morgan smiles, "well done for noticing detective, her hair was red, dyed brown, look at her eyes gentlemen and tell me what you can see."
They both look into the woman's eyes as Morgan prises them open, Gordon is the first to notice.
"She has coloured contacts in, brown right?"
"Exactly, someone went to great lengths to hide her true identity and disguise her."
Stephen elbows him in the side as the doctor's back turns, "she look familiar to you Gordon?"
He nods, "looks like Maddie Wayne with this get up."
He turns now to Morgan, "Morgan what height is the victim?"
"Five foot four, she also weighs about nine stone, very small woman wouldn't have taken much to have subdued her. I'll take the dye and contacts out and see what we're left with. Get her picture circulated, pretty young girl like this someone should be missing her."
"When you've finished can you call me? Tell me what she looks like without all of this, with some luck she may have a record. Anything on her clothes, anything to suggest who she may be?"
"Clothes are on the table Gordon; I'll walk you through them."
A large black handbag and its contents lay spread out on the table, "no purse or anything to id her with, the killer must have kept them. There's three different colours of lipstick, two of which are different shades of pink, the last and more interestingly is red..."
"Why is that so interesting?" Morgan continues smiling despite Stephen's interruption.
"The red doesn't match; it's a very deep red, not a common choice for a young girl to wear. We also found an address book, has many male names in it; the last entry was 'Oliver, meet at 7.30 pm'. That was the last thing she wrote; it could be a possibility your victim was on the game."
"So it may not be related to Maddie at all this case?"
Morgan nods, "possible, it's not common for young women to change their appearance, could be she dyed her hair just hours before her death but then again this looks fresh, like it was done just moments before her death. He could have done it to make it harder to identify her. Now for the clothes she was wearing."
They move to the end of the table, the clothes are spread out neatly. "Black tights, many rips in them either done on purpose or when she was being hurt, you can never tell with fashions these days. Her underwear was missing; the bra however was not, its pink expensive, looks brand new. The skirt, denim looks pretty old, there's some holes in that too. The blouse is of the same quality as the bra, the tag is designer; all in all I'd say we have a mixture here, two different types of women; yet the same person."
Stephen moves forward, picking up the address book; "did you find any drugs in her?"
"Actually no, she was clean, no needle marks or anything else to suggest she was on anything. Small amount of alcohol found in her system though not enough to make her drunk, the last thing she ate was bread."
Stephen braces himself on the table, waiting until Morgan is out of ear shot; "it'll take forever I'm guessing to get the dye outta her hair, why don't we just use the computer? Take away the brown hair dye, contacts won't be any problem clear up her face and see what happens?"
He nods, they need a break in the case and fast, "sure, you do that while I finish up here, I'll be back up soon."
He turns to face the young woman; walking over to her he strokes the hair away from her face, taking the picture. "Someone out there knows what happened to her Gordon, you'll find out soon enough..."
Morgan risks a look at him, "she does look similar to Miss Wayne, the hair, the eyes. I'd warn her if I were you Sir; she could be in grave danger if this is a message."
Stephen's POV
"Take this part away from here; hair looks like it should be longer... dark red hair, green eyes."
"Stephen you almost done?"
He waves his hand in the general direction of Gordon's voice, "pictures almost done, got her original features up now."
They gather around the computer screen, without the dyed hair and brown contacts she looks like a different woman. Her face now re-created with no imperfections.
"Take away all the blemishes and marks and she was beautiful," Gordon murmurs beside him.
The young woman's face was indeed pretty; her natural dark red hair once hung past her shoulders, her face had not fallen to the ravages of drugs; instead she was unmarked, her eyes a bright green. Without the dyed hair and fake contacts she looks nothing like Maddie, the only similarity is the height between the two women.
"A record came up for her boss, Morgan was right she was on the game. We've had her in here a few times, last arresting officer was James."
Gordon remains silent beside him, he finally speaks. "I know her; she was on the game like Morgan said. Her names..."
Sam's POV
She was pretty, better than the other prostitutes he'd seen around; she looked like she didn't belong and even now that's what he wanted her to be like...to be like her. She didn't look like her though, red hair and green eyes, she couldn't look less like her if she's tried. She'd seen him around as well, he'd built up her trust over the past few weeks, during those weeks his plans were coming together; this, his final warning of what he wanted to be done. The cop hadn't done anything and boy was he pissed; he wanted results and got nothing. She'd been so easy to get, he only had to wave her over and she'd ran eagerly to him; like a puppy returning to its master.
"Hi Sam, how have you been?"
He'd just smiled at her questions, taking her to a secluded area; to others warning signals would have started, instead she just sat there, talking away, unaware of her fate.
"What do you want me to do to you?"
He'd smiled even more at her, manoeuvring her head towards his pants; he leaned his head back as she unzipped his pants, before she could go any further he reached down, hitting her head against the gear stick. She'd slumped forward, the indentation already marking her skin. He'd taken her to the house; tying her wrists back with wire, her feet with rope; then he'd waited for her to wake up, examining his tools ever so often, reciting what the Joker had taught them all 'drag it out boys, sometimes the best kill is well worth the wait.' So he'd waited until she woke up, her head had slumped forward, her long hair hiding her face and her view of him and her whereabouts. She'd raised her head then, jerking at the wire, screaming in pain as it cut her wrists, she looked at him, terrified, hoping she'd been dreaming.
"Hey there girl, I was wondering when you'd get your ass up. Probably shouldn't have hit you so hard when we were in the car, let's have a look at that."
Her instincts had kicked in then; she'd flung her head from side to side, head butting him in the process, he'd grunted in pain; backhanding her across the face. She's gasped in shock, her makeup ruined by her tears; he'd reached out wiping her face, his nails scratching the skin.
"Please Sam, please let me go, I haven't done anything wrong to you! Please, my mom and dad will be looking for me; they'll know I'm missing!"
He'd ignored her; instead he'd stoked her hair, noting the length and the shades of red. "Too long to be like her's, hair colour needs to go as well."
"Please, I only do this because I need the money. Ask anyone and I don't have much money if that's what you want. I have my family!"
Her crying had annoyed him by then; he rounded on her, pulling her hair back; holding on tight.
"What would your family think if they knew what you did?"
Her tears didn't stop; the mascara ran down her face; he'd relented, softening his face. He'd caressed her face, tracing her features, her eyes, her hair.
She'd nudged his hand with her face, "please Sam, let me go, I won't tell anyone."
His hand had gone to her hair, checking the length; she'd looked at him, her eyes suspicious.
"Too long, especially now she's cut her's. Don't worry though we can change that."
He'd walked away, leaving her alone in the dark.
"Change what? Sam where are you?"
She'd hung her head again, pointing towards her feet, she didn't realise he was behind her until she felt the first cut. She'd screech slightly in pain, he'd clutched onto her hair, dangling it in front of her.
"Oops, guess I nicked you with my knife, but it had to be done Amy, it won't work unless I did that to you."
He'd scattered her hair around her, teasing her; "this is just practise, what I want to do to her is so much worse. You should feel lucky Amy."
She was still whimpering, he'd gotten annoyed, hadn't really thought it through and had dug into her thigh with his knife, twisting it deeper into her. She'd screamed, rocking backwards and forwards in her chair, trying desperately to free herself. He'd sliced along her thigh, he hadn't meant to start yet; but the crying, oh God the crying had grated on him. The blood had spread over both of them; soiling their clothes.
"Why?"
He'd dug his fingers into the wound, twisting them, "why? You match her, those others girls haven't got anything on you and her. If you think about it in a way you win!"
Her cried had silenced by then, he'd left her for a few days, coming in on and off to hurt her some more, he got better each time. Everything he'd heard from the Joker he'd put into practise. Funny really when you think about it; everything the Joker had taught him he was now using against his whore...it's a strange world.
Afterwards the blood was everywhere; perhaps the neck he could have cut less, he was worried that when the time came to move her, the head would fall off but luckily for him it hadn't. And now as he stands watching the cops find her body he knows it won't be long. She can't run and she can't hide forever.
Joker's POV
A box of fucking tablets; she wanted his help and he gave her tablets, like she was like him; or one of those doctors at Arkham, pumping him full of crap that made him slow, make him not think straight, lose his concentration, walk around like he was a fucking zombie or something. The look on her face, the whole, suffocating situation was too much for him to handle. Now, sat here on his own, he realises how cruelly neglectful of her he'd been. But the truth is he doesn't know how to behave; having someone rely on him, love him and want his help is alien to him. Practically ran away from her, left her to it, probably made her feel that small by doing what he did.
He tries in vain not to think of her, but he does, of course he does. He sees all of his Maddie's; blonde Maddie, her hair was so bright, so beautiful, that he'd sit there for hours playing with it while she slept, cursing himself for being so weak, so pathetic around her, but then she'd do something, or even look at him and he'd forgive her. Maddie fiddling with her hair when she was nervous, tearing at the skin of her lips when she was reading, her laugh, oh God her laugh; it was so innocent, so infectious. Then last night in bed, he remembered the warmth of her body against his, the way her body curled against his; the nape of her neck where he would often stroke tenderly. All of those Maddie's are his. It kills him to say that; be someone he thought he'd buried a long time ago, the memories of the old Jack are slowly coming back; his life before he was the Joker.
He twists the pictures closer, for a while just looking at these pictures where enough, he could be near her and not ache to touch her; and now it takes him all his strength not to go the Manor and take back what is his. He never thought he'd have kids, he never wanted one, his job and life doesn't make room for a kid. Mat...how long does he even have with him? Not too long before he starts screaming every time he sees him, starts asking mommy why daddy is such a freak, why he has the scars. He rubs the back of his hand against them, the red paint looking more like blood.
She'd called him a miracle; 'almost seven billion miracles walking around in this world Jack and we have one of them.'
He'd referred to him as an 'accident', she's laughed and told him to stop being negative, that 'surprise' was better. He hadn't stopped; muttering about condoms and that he could never control himself around her, she'd hugged him affectionately, laughing as he moaned like some old man.
'Some people just get carried away in the moment, but I don't regret him...do you?'
She'd bit her lip, chewing nervously as she waited for his answer...of course he regretted it; he couldn't be there for her, for them, what kind of miracle was this? He'd gone to say that, but then he caught the look on her face, the necklace she had on spelling out 'Mat', he'd teased her about it sure, but she'd just said it was so he was closer to her heart. He'd taken each part of her in, bit by bit, the glow surrounding her, everything and he'd nodded, told her what she wanted to hear...what he wanted to tell her was 'I'm sorry', sorry he could never properly be there, sorry he had ruined her life; threatened her world. He knows what could happen and he's sorry. So sorry.
Maddie's POV
I sway gently on the porch swing, leaning against the head rest; my eyes on the full moon. It's still warm enough to be outside; the chill of the night has yet to set in. I'm still riding high from last night's operation; the adrenaline is a rush for me. Lifting my arm, I outline the circle of the moon with my fingertips. The weight of the operation had pressed on my shoulders for weeks; on that evening I'd chopped cucumbers, celery and lettuce for a salad. I'd sat down at the computer, going over last minute things when it felt as though two beefy, muscular arms had reached from the monitor and pressed their hands down on my shoulders, compressing my lungs so I could no longer grasp a breath. Now it's over, I can cross that off my list; I can think clearly, but the threat of what almost happened won't go away. It's almost as though the Chief has refused to remember what happened; that the whole operation was smooth from the word 'go'.
"Hey Mads, it's getting cold out here, I thought I'd bring you this."
I turn towards Bruce, or rather the blanket in front of Bruce. I smile and pat the space next to me; inviting him to sit down. He spreads the blanket over us, I lay my legs down over his legs; he tuts but doesn't remove them. The garden is lit up with white fairy lights, I'd hung them on the tree branches one Christmas and they'd been left up since; the effect is quite spectacular. "
You think you'll ever get rid of these Uggs? They're falling apart," he tugs gently on my shoes and I prop them into view.
"They're comfy, it's nice to put these on after wearing heels for most of the day and besides I love them."
He laughs and rests his head against my shoulder, "Alfred's inside I invited him out but he said it was too cold. You can take the man out of England..."
I laugh and pull the blanket closer, "this is nice, just me and you. We rarely get time with each other now a day, its good."
"Yeah it is Bruce, even though we live in the same house."
He nudges his head at my teasing, "I'm serious, we should take that holiday soon. I've been going on about if for long enough. Mat's a little bit older now, he'll appreciate it more."
"God, can you believe he's almost one? It seriously only seems like yesterday I found out I was pregnant..." and only months ago I was still with Jack, locked up from everyone else yes, but I was still with him.
"I know; he's so big now, so happy; he's a good kid, the best. Speaking of the best, the penthouse will go up for sale tomorrow, or do you have any plans for it?"
"I got some plans for it, I'll do it tomorrow though, it's too late now."
"Are you going to let me in on your plans? Or like the time you smuggled your rabbit into school, will I find out then?"
"It was a little funny though Bruce, you have to admit!"
His lips purse trying not to let the laughter out. It reminds me of a bottle of Coke, the giggle bubbles bound to escape soon enough.
"Four months," he says softly, I look at him, puzzled, "four months what?"
"Four months until Mat is one; I've been counting down on the calendar. Its four months exactly tomorrow."
I look at him shocked, I hadn't even realised, instead I bite my lip and keep it to myself. "I thought he was going to speak today and I know it isn't the time yet, but he keeps trying. He makes this little baby noises, you know?"
"I...I don't know, he doesn't do that in front of me."
He presses on my hand, some form of comfort I suppose, "he'll do it soon enough, it's just cause you work now and I spend most of the day with him. I've taped some of it; we can watch it if you like?"
"Yeah sure, I'll watch my son try to talk on a tape instead of being here for him."
"Maddie," he sighs twirling my hair in his hands.
"You'll hear him soon enough, I reckon he'll be talking and walking in no time, like his mom."
I relax against him again, holding his gloved hand in mine; "how's things with Stephen then? You pair dating or not, or is there someone else?"
"I'm not dating anyone Bruce, just figured I'd play the field a bit."
I miss the look on his face; disregard the tension in the air, his fingers tighten around mine. My hands turn numb.
A/N: Trust me, all of this is relevant, right down to the morgue scene, it all fits in to where this story is heading. And trust me, it's heading somewhere, but you'll have to all carry on reading and reviewing to finding out where! I don't know how many chapters are left to go, but this story will be finished... and perhaps they'll be more to come! Oh the hints I drop! Anyway before this note becomes another part of the story I'll end it there.
Take care,
Feels-Like-Paradise.