CHAPTER FOURTEEN

...the anguish in my eyes

The next morning I woke up early, cleaned my whole place and started to cook seafood fettuccini alfredo. It wasn't hard to do, but I wanted to cook everything from scratch and add in the little details that made it romantic.

So I got all dolled up and had everything ready by 7. And I waited and waited and waited. By 9 o'clock, I was done, I threw everything in Tupperware containers and went to bed. Who the hell did he think he is, I made it clear. Did he forget, did he find something more important to do or was he regretting his decision already?

I let it go for a few days, and I heard nothing from him, not even an email. Enough was enough; I didn't have time for this bullshit. I drove over to his place, ready to throw his ring right back in his face. I keyed in only to find an empty place, quite literally. Almost all of the furniture was gone, but there was a piece of paper pinned to the wall across from the door. It said:

To whomever it may concern,

I leave this apartment and anything left in it to the landlord. I am cutting ties with everyone from my past life. Goodbye.

What? Why does this keep happening to me? But instead of my usually reaction, I turned around, locked the door and walked away. I slipped the key into his mailbox and headed home for a bubble bath. I put the key into the slot only to find that it had already been unlocked and my door was slightly a jar.

I headed inside with my keys spread between my fingers, not the best weapon but pointy brass knuckles, of sorts. Nothing seemed to be missing or even out of place. I checked hiding places and decided that it must have been the landlord checking up on things or something.

I changed into something comfortable and headed into the bathroom for my bath. I turned on the light only to see my mirror broken, glass shards littering the floor. What I saw next made my heart stop. There was a joker card taped to what was left of the mirror and I could see there was writing on it.

Are you ready to play yet?

I had ignored the last note from him; I assumed it was made for the Batman or the Police Force. He had intended to kill me. But this one was for me and me alone. This unsettled me and I turned to call the police when I heard something in the shower; a bottle had been knocked down. I slowly reached a hand over to the curtain and pulled it back as quickly as possible. I jumped at the sight.

There was a limp body, hanging by a noose. He was wearing an Arkham prisoner's uniform with a smile carved on his face. Not an especially deep one, or at least there wasn't much blood, so it probably happened after he was killed. His body swayed back and forth slowly. I reached out a pulse only to find that he was in full rigor mortis. I knew it wasn't J, he had pulled this one before, but I did recognize the prisoner's number, but I didn't know from where. AAC1-52576. I believe it was from one of my former cases, but which?

I slowly turned his face towards me. He was beaten severely, so his face was unrecognizable. He was noticeably skinny. I spun him even further and found my second joker card of the night. I pulled it off his body. I held it up, but I couldn't see anything.

I slipped it into my purse, determined to figure this one out on my own. The police arrived at their usual pace and I waited for them in my living room. I was noticeably shaken and decided it would be best for me to stay at a hotel. It wasn't as if I really had a choice, my house was now a crime scene. So, I grabbed what I needed before they had time to push me out of my own house.

I did find a grocery bag where I kept my files that had a burlap sack and with further investigation it was none other than the Scarecrows mask. I quickly checked my case files for the ID only to discover that it was Dr. Crane's number and uniform. I tried to get back to check his eyes and for the scars on his back, but they had sealed it off. I guess I was right after all. Poor Crane, I guess he didn't make it far. Commisioner Gordon rushed me out of my house.

"Ms. Quinzel, I am glad to see you again, but it's unfortunate that is had to happen under such circumstances. As you know, we won't be able to release the identity of the body, or the progress of locating the Joker, but I promise, I am putting our best on it, Detective Nashton?"

A clean cut man walked out into the hall with us as a uniformed cop sealed the room with crime tape. He had kind eyes but they were masked with a natural curiosity, and something else I couldn't quite place. Gordon bid a goodbye and entered my place again.

"Ms. Quinzel, please call me Edward. We will do our best to hurry through the crime scene so you can have your house back. In the mean time, here are the keys and the address of a police hideout, so to speak. I hope to put you under full surveillance under he is caught to thwart any further attempts on your life or the life of your fiancé. Have you had any contact in the past 24 hours?"

"Uh, no, actually he left. I mean, all his stuff is gone and he left a note. He is gone." I said flatly, trying to mask my pain.

"Yea, well, here is my card if you think of anything that you left out and these two officers will be your guards."

"Actually, I don't want any. I mean, thanks, but I'll be fine." He looked unsure. "Really." I added. He made me promise that I would check in every so often, just to make sure the Joker had not found me.

When I reached my hotel room, I locked myself in and covered the windows. I checked both the front and back doors and any possible hiding places there could be. It had a kitchen with a small dining room, a tiny living room, a very nice bathroom and a small bedroom. The nicest part was that it had both a front door and a back door, this way I could avoid any nagging police, or worse.

I was starting to accept what happened and my shock had worn itself down. That's when reality set in. I was being stalked by the Joker. This pissed me off worse than the fact that I was used as a puppet and disposed of.

I sat at the end of the bed and pulled out the card. I turned it over in my hands, trying to decipher its meaning.

I tried everything I could think of, even the thing with the lemon juice and the heat. Still no luck.

I continued to turn the card over in my hands, trying to see what he wanted me to see, seeing some tiny clue at what to do next. I decided to give up for the night and take my long deserved shower. I set the card on the sink and turned on the hot water. Steam quickly filled the room and I slowly began to unwind. I dressed in my night clothes and grabbed the card. I had been moistened by the shower, though nothing else changed.

I sat back down on the edge of the bed and began to slowly turn it in my hands again. Only this time, it felt different. I looked closely and I could see that the seam was separating from itself. I ran it back into the bathroom and held it over some steam until I was able to pull it apart.

It was two cards glued together around the edge. The front card was of course a Joker card, but the card that had served as the false back was blank with the word Урод written in red ink and the same phrase from before: Find him when you want to find me.

That was it, I had to find the meaning of all of his games. Since when was J so cryptic? Okay, so he was always cryptic, but not with what he wanted. Was he making sure to cover his tracks or was he playing with me again? Oh, how I hate mind games!

After only a few minutes of searching the web, I was able to find a new mob boss named the Урод. It took another hour or so to find where he may be. From there, it took three phone calls begging from drugs. I guess that's one way, but if it was that easy, what hasn't GCPD found this drug dealer?

From what I gathered, his name was Russian and it translated to freak. I wasn't quite sure how the Chechen fit into this, but I was bound to find him. I made a quick phone call to Det. Nashton to let him know that I was going to sleep and he need not worry. No one answered, so I left a quick voicemail. Little did he know what I was doing. Hell, even I didn't know what I was doing.

What exactly does one wear when confronting a potentially dangerous mob boss presumably working for the Joker? I decided to go with a pair of old sneakers, worn pair of jeans, a black tank top and a red hoodie. I pulled my hair up into a messy ponytail and added a generous amount of eyeliner. I quick swipe of red gloss and I looked like I should be walking the streets. The more I fit in, the better.

Since I had to walk, I needed to avoid any unnecessary attention. Just in case, I tucked my cell phone in one pocket and the knife that J left in my back pocket. I tucked his card into my bra and a few dollars just in case. I locked the door behind me and headed towards a cargo storage container that was kept at the docks.

After about an hour worth of walking and not even getting close to Midtown limits, I decided to spring for the monorail. I rode it until Haysville and had to walk the extra three miles. Not the best idea seeing as I was in the heart of downtown, but I had no other choice. Now was not the time to be afraid.

I passed a few people, but I seemed to fit in well enough. The sun was slowly starting to set and that meant more danger. I quicken my pace and tucked my hand into my pockets. I hadn't even thought about the temperature. The steam of my breath was steadily coming out, which only made me think about how cold it was getting. Thankfully, I made my last turn and looked to see hundreds of storage containers. I let out a deep breath and zipped my jacket. I pulled out the print out map of the storage yard and headed towards the north corner. It was next to the water. I stood outside of container 3X7-PE7-SWEM wondering what to do next. I leaned against the door, thinking of what J would want me to do.

What? What had I just done? I stole evidence, hunted down a mob dealer, dressed as an addict, walked downtown at night, and am currently standing in front of a hideout. And, I did it all for him, without question. Was I losing my mind? Did I have a death wish? Or was it something more?

I paced in front of the door, contemplating what I should do. Should I really go in there? And why did I want to be here, did I really want to see him again? I finally decided that I was here for the same reason that I had grabbed his knife. I wanted revenge.