One foot in front of the other.
That was the way. The terror and the pain, you buried. The sickness in the pit of your stomach, the misery that could make you - a grown man - cry, you ignored. One foot in front of the other, moving in the right direction. Correcting your course. Trying again. So you wanted to curl up and crumble down. So what? What was the point? What good would it do? What would you fix?
Jim was back at his desk, because running away from his mistakes would mean running away from the job, and running away from the job would mean letting David Sirkis to his fate. The man was possibly alive somewhere, with a bomb around his neck, at the mercy of his abductors. It was also likely that he was not the only captive, and Jim wanted them all freed before any more corpses surfaced. They still weren't sure of what the whole thing was about, but they were trying to figure it out.
«Sex ring?» Harvey suggested. «They're all attractive, could be models.»
«It could be that, but then why would Sirkis be allowed to get out and flirt with Bakerton? Why even bother with the explosives? There's no shortage of beautiful sex slaves in Gotham, and the traffickers never go to the trouble of abducting bankers and inventing a story to explain their disappearances. They just snatch them from the Narrows or ship them in from Eastern Europe.»
«Special requests for rich sickos, then? They get people that match a look, a style?»
«It still doesn't explain why they let a missing person, someone the police was actively looking for, out in public.I mean, Sirkis was probably the one who kidnapped Sabrina Bakerton. Or maybe he lured her out so the abductors could-»
The bullpen's doors opened, and there was some screaming, the kind you got when a perp was brought in. Except, this time, the man who had walked in with two patrolmen was not cuffed. He was leading the two officers in. His face was bloody, and black and blue.
«I tell you!» he was shouting. «Let's just call the captain, and we'll see his face when I tell him James Gordon tried to kill me. I want that guy in JAIL.»
There was a lull as every cop in the room turned to the newcomer. Then the heads turned to Jim. He stared at the man, utterly confused, then stood and walked down the stairs, as calmly as in the most usual of circumstances. There was not the slightest spark of recognition in his accuser's eyes, which gave him a fairly precise idea of what had happened. He joined the man, closely followed by Alvarez.
«Can we help you, sir?» Jim asked.
«Hell yeah you can. One of your guys just forced his way into my home and tried to fucking stab me. You the captain?»
«No. Captain Essen is currently out, on a crime scene. I'm a detective here. Can you describe the guy who attacked you?»
«Yeah. Blonde. Tall. Well dressed. Had a badge, and knocked on my door, saying 'Sir, I'm detective Gordon, I worked on your sister's case', before he bludgeoned me with a fucking nightstick and dragged me back inside.»
Jim exchanged a look with Alvarez, who had also put two and two together. The vigilante seemed to have found himself a new victim. It most likely meant Jim had arrested the wrong person more than once, and that the vigilante had attempted to stage another reveal.
Mario Pepper's death should have taught you something.
«Sir», Alvarez intervened. «This is detective James Gordon. Whoever attacked you was impersonating him, most likely using a name you could recognize from your sister's case. If you'll please follow me to a different room so I can take your statement?»
The man took a step back.
«I wanna talk to your captain.»
«We'll call her in right now, Alvarez promised. His manners were perfect, and his seriousness very convincing. «But the sooner we know what happened, the faster we'll get our hands on your assailant.»
«I… I guess you're right.»
A few minutes later, the man - Peter Shepard - was sitting in an interrogation room with a cup of coffee. He was young, in his early twenties, and his record said he was on probation after a few years in Blackgate, where he had been sent for aggravated assault. Alvarez and Collins were talking to him. Harvey and Jim were observing from the next room, through the one-way mirror.
They both remembered Shepard's sister case. It was recent - as recent as Delores Stephenson's. In fact, I had been opened on the day Stephenson's body had been fished out of the river. They had been called on two more crime scenes that afternoon, and Dana Shepard's had been one of those. She had killed her estranged, meth-addicted husband, shooting him six times at point blank. She had been fairly proud of herself, too. He had been threatening her with rape and repeatedly showing up at her job to harass her, to the point that she had a restraining order against him.
Peter's sister would be discussed later, however. So far, Alvarez had been asking about the assault and its perpetrator. «Describe the man. How old was he? Any scars or identifying features? Was he injured in the struggle? Did he mention why he was targeting you?»
It was clear that Shepard was reconsidering his visit. He had probably been hoping for a quick buck, some money so Essen could get rid of him, but now he found himself questioned and was growing uneasy. He kept looking at the door and crumpling on his chair, getting defensive and sullen.
«No, he didn't. He just started beating me up.»
«You say an armed neighbor came to your rescue and ran the attacker out. Which neighbor? Do you have a name, or an address? An apartment's number?»
«Not really. I'd never seen that guy before. He just came in, pulled 'Gordon' away and put a gun in his face, then they both scampered.»
«And you gave that man's description to the officers who brought you here?»
«Yeah, I did.»
Alvarez nodded, standing up.
«I'll be checking if the patrols on your block have found your assailant or any signs of him, or of the man who rescued you. I'll be back soon. Detective Collins will ask you a few more questions, then we will see about placing you under protective custody until we are sure it is safe for you to return home.»
That got Shepard to throw a quizzical look at the door, then at Collins, but he did his best to hide his panic.
Alvarez got out and closed the door.
«What can you tell me on his sister's case?» he asked to Jim and Harvey.
«Abusive husband got shot by a wife he was separated from», Bullock replied. «He went to threaten her one time too many, she shot him, and didn't just confess, she was patting herself on the back for doing it. She said he'd been making her life hell.»
«You didn't look into other suspects?»
«She said she'd done it, her kids were six and four, and she had no boyfriend. We didn't know about the brother.»
«He doesn't like it when he's asked about why he was attacked», Jim pointed out.
«Think he could have killed his sister's husband?» Alvarez asked. It didn't sound like a question.
«I definitely do», the blond replied with a sigh. «Ex-convict on probation vs battered wife and mother of two… She'd get accused of voluntary manslaughter, and with her story, she'd get three years, with early release for good behavior. The brother would be lucky to be charged with anything less than a first degree murder, he'd get years in prison, if not life.»
«Exactly what I was thinking», Carlos said. «And I think I'll ask him just that.»
Harvey drummed his fingers on the wall, lost in thought.
«The thing is, it's not like the other case. There would not be proof lying around, no history of text messages, no emails. I doubt that Dana lady would have called her brother to come rescue her from her husband's surprise visit. The guy would have had to cross the whole damn town. And it was her gun.»
«So Peter was probably at his sister's when our vic' arrived.»
«Yeah. So how the fuck did the vigilante get proof? He wouldn't kill the guy without solid evidence to send to the press.»
«I still think it's a cop», Alvarez declared. «The information he got the first time around, and the way he went about it? It screams detective work. Now, what happened to Dana Shepard after her arrest?»
«Released on bail», Jim said. «Weeks later. She got an excellent lawyer through her boss.»
«Check if her phone records were ever pulled. Check if 'you' had them pulled. Get a warrant and check both the Shepard's houses for bugs. A voice recording of them discussing the murder would be proof enough, and I don't see what else the vigilante could have found. Bullock has a point.»
«Of course I do», Harvey replied. «Let's go.»
###
Once upon a time, Fish had taught Liza how to smile and how to wrinkle her brow, how to bat her lashes, how to fake sadness and innocence. Now she was doing it again, except with her own flesh and that of a dozen dead women. She had ample time to practice, and no shortage of mirrors. She was making good progress. She managed sweet, and soft, and angelic. Went she felt like punishing herself a little, she went for that desperate emptiness, that sullen, drugged look that she had so thoroughly scraped away from the girl.
Even without the blue make-up and the long dark hair, Fish managed a decent impersonation of the old Liza, the one who had been ready to beat up a woman half to death for a job she had not even known the description of.
Even without the pink lipstick and the blonde locks, even without the silk shawls, even without the pearls, Fish nailed 'Angel Liza', because Fish was skilled at giving herself weapons. Life gave you lemons? You made invisible ink, not lemonade, and you sold what was left of the lemons.
She also nailed 'destroyed and half-crazy with horror'. Dulmacher ate it up. Men always saw what they wanted to see.
Her recovery was going well. The horrendous pain was here to stay. She consoled herself by imagining how she would share it with Francis and his entire team. They liked scalpels and body parts? They would get scalpels and body parts. In the meantime, she healed. Her scars no longer bled, and the wounds no longer reopened when stretched. She could trash in her bed and try to free herself. She felt a stinging, but she no longer found herself bleeding and tearing up at every joint. It meant it was time to escape.
She just needed an opportunity. She was washed and fed regularly, but the nurses were careful not to let her move. They kept her cuffed if she was to me moved from the bed. Some day, at some point, they would forget a step and Fish would gut them. Mirrors were a wonderful thing to smash people's heads into: you got to see the look on their face the entire time.
In the end, the nurses didn't get an opportunity to mess up. Freedom came in the form of a seven year old child. Calvin came back to check on her.
The door opened softly, very softly, with scared caution. The boy was pressing his face to the small opening he was making so he could peek inside. Fish smiled.
«You can just come in, young man.»
He opened the door and slipped into the room, closing it behind him.
«You didn't get ill?» he asked, visibly worried.
«I didn't. I told you I wouldn't. You didn't have the flu nor a stomach bug, did you?»
«No.»
«Are you still having a case of complications? I've been worried.»
«The doctor says yes. I have to be hooked to a machine alllll day. I'm so bored. I just want to be, you know, not sick, so I can go back to Gotham. They sent Logan back. They said he was in a new family now.»
One family and then some, in as many parts, Fish thought. And if Dulmacher had taken both of the boy's kidneys, he would enjoy eating his own.
«Are they treating you well?»
«They gave me all of Captain Marvel's comics. All of them since, you know, the first one.»
«That sounds great.»
«Nah. Captain Marvel is boring and he talks weird, like 'holy moley'. And his enemies are worms. From Venus.»
«I'm sorry. Worms?»
«Yes. I'd like some Spiderman comics instead. Venom is much better.»
Fish was not altogether familiar with the Spiderman lore. She just nodded.
«You shouldn't be out of your room», she reminded him. «You will get in trouble.»
«I know… I'll go.»
«Good. But before that!»
«Yes?»
«My nose itches. Can you untie my hand? It's driving me crazy!»
Calvin looked at her, nodded, and hopped to her. He fought with the leather straps around her wrist, but managed to open them. She made a point of rubbing every inch of her nose.
«Thank you so much! Ah, that's much better.»
«Okay! Do I tie your hand back?»
«No, that won't be necessary, the nurses will do it. Now run off… And don't tell them you've been here! You don't want to be in trouble, do you?»
###