Helen and Gerard booked themselves two adjoining rooms in a nearby hotel, and instantly went to work. After ordering room service, the two grabbed the hotel phone books and logged onto their laptops to get access to their database.
"Coleman, I found another one. According to area code, she is on the outskirts of the city. Name is Carla Jensen."
Taking a bite of her salad, Helen typed the name Carla Jensen into the database.
"Carla Jensen. Fingerprints aren't in the database, not even a parking ticket. She does have a kid brother."
"So is she our girl?" Gerard asked.
"Doubtful. She's twelve years old." Helen sighed and laid back against her pillows. "How many more?"
Gerard looked in the phone book and flipped through the marked pages. "Twenty-four."
"I hate to say this, Stephens, but our luck is running out. Maybe it was a mistake for us to strike out on our own manhunt. I just wished that we...That I was the one to finally get this bastard behind bars."
When Helen didn't hear a response from Gerard, she became curious. Climbing out of bed, she went into the next room and found Gerard sitting at the foot of the bed, sound asleep. Smiling, she rolled her eyes and eased Gerard back onto the bed. Just as she was about to close the phone book, she saw that there was one more name left on that page: Carrie Davidson.
Shrugging, she decided to research the name before turning in herself. Taking the phone book back to her room, she typed the name in her database. To her surprise, she found a set of fingerprints belonging to a Carrie Angela Davidson.
"What have we here?" Helen muttered.
She looked at the fingerprint sheet carefully, soon realizing that social services had been the ones who gave the fingerprints. Thankfully, she had a friend who worked for the good SS. She could only hope that he didn't mind late night phone calls. Grabbing her cellphone, she dialed his number. It rang twice before someone picked up.
"Who is it?" A male voice slurred.
"Drake? Drake, it's Helen Coleman."
"The same Helen Coleman who use to be my fiancee before dumping me for her career?"
Helen sighed. "Yes, it's me."
"Good. Just wanted to hear you say that, before I hanged up."
"Drake King, don't you even think about hanging up on me. I need your help."
There was a pause and Helen was sure that Drake was hanging up, when she heard a click. A few seconds later, she heard him sigh.
"I transferred the call to my office. What is it?"
Helen smiled. "I'm in Ivy Town, working on a case. We found a person of interest in the database, and it seems she's in the foster care system."
"Parent or child?"
Helen looked at her computer. "Birthday is August 14th, 1950, so I'll say parent."
She could heard the faint sound of a keyboard typing rapidly. Drake had always been one of the fastest typers she'd ever seen.
"So, whose your new partner?" Drake asked.
"What?"
"Before you said that "we" found a person of interest. Either Mr. Hyde's come to pay a visit to your psyche, or you've got a new partner."
"His name is Gerard Stephens. He's been with the force for twenty-one years, pretty good at his job from what I can tell."
"So, I take it you like Gotham?"
Helen laid down, propping herself against the pillows. "So far. By the way, if you happen to see anyone from the station, tell them that it's not a disease-filled wasteland."
Drake chuckled. "Will do. So, why are you looking at this Davidson woman?"
"I told you, she's a person of interest."
"A working class foster mom with a record that's cleaner than a new Mercedes."
Helen was now beginning to remember one of the things she did NOT like about Drake. Whenever she had any sort of case, even a small one, he would always nose his way into her business until she told him something.
"She's not the one in trouble, if that's what you want to know. We are looking at one of her foster kids...Or, that's what I'm thinking he was."
"Well, I can skim through the files. She became a foster parent in 1975. Since then, she's taken care of thirty-one kids, five of which she legally adopted in court."
"How many from 1975 to 1990?"
"Fourteen. Eight boys, six girls."
"I just need the boys. Ones with facial injuries."
"Facial injuries?"
"That's not too difficult, is it?"
There was a long sigh over the line, before Helen could hear the keys tapping again.
"Only three of the boys had injuries. One had a burn from a cooking stove, the other a scar under his eye from a bike accident, and then...That's weird."
Helen sat up quickly. "What is it?"
"It seems one of the boys was injured while in Ms. Davidson's care. A sixteen year old who recieved two slits from a knife across his mouth."
"Is that all you know?"
"Well, the kid's name was Jay Killian and he left foster care a year later."
"Thanks, Drake. Talk to you later."
Helen hung up the phone before Drake could get in another word. She rushed to Gerard's room and shook him by the shoulder.
"Stephens, wake up. Wake up, I've got a lead."
Gerard stirred and looked up at Helen groggily. "What is it, Coleman?"
Helen smiled. "I've just found The Joker's foster mom."
The next morning, Gerard and Helen drove out to Carrie Davidson's home. It was a small townhouse on the outskirts of the city, with toys littering the yard and a Shetland dog asleep on the stoop. As Helen crouched down to pet the dog, Gerard rang the doorbell. Pretty soon, a woman came to the door. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair disheveled, and her eyes looked tired. Nonetheless, she had a warm smile on her face.
"Hello. May I help you?" The woman said.
"Hello, Miss Davidson, I'm Detective Stephens and this is my partner, Helen Coleman."
Helen stood up and shook Carrie's hand. "Hello there, Miss Davidson. You have a lovely home."
"Thank you." Carrie drew back a strand of hair. "I know the yard is a bit messy, but with three kids it's not easy to keep up with these things. I can't even keep up with myself."
There was a moment of awkward silence before Helen cleared her throat.
"This is about Jay, isn't it?" Carrie finally asked.
"Miss Davidson, we-"
"Don't say anymore, Detective Stephens, I knew that this day would come. I couldn't keep my secret forever."
Carrie invited Gerard and Helen inside and led them to the living room. It was clean, with polished furniture that had only the smallest remnants of apple juice sticking here and there, a large screen TV, and a round coffee table. As Gerard and Helen sat on the sofa, Carrie went to the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee that she handed to the detectives.
"I've heard about The Joker from the papers." Carrie sighed and sat in a nearby chair. "At first, I didn't want to believe it was him; but I saw those scars and that smile. It's just still hard to believe that a boy I raised could do those things."
"Was he always different?" Helen asked.
Carrie shook her head and smiled. "You don't have to walk around the truth, detective. You can use the word "crazy." To answer your question? I would say that Jay always had a different personality. I took him in when he was twelve, and the first year was wonderful; he was well-behaved, and got along great with his foster siblings. Thirteen is when he started to have trouble; dropping out of class, smoking and drinking, and then there was the toys."
"What toys?" Gerard asked.
"He started throwing the younger children's toys around, destroying them. He told me that he liked to make a mess, that he liked the chaos. Can you believe that I only thought that it was a sign of puberty?"
"Miss Davidson...Carrie...You cannot blame yourself for what Jay did and what he's doing now." Helen said quietly.
"I know that now. Anyway, as he got older, the behavior escalated and then came the day he slit his face." Carrie explained.
"Wait a minute; he slit his face? The scars are on his cheeks were from-"
"That's right, Detective Coleman. Those wounds were self-inflicted."
Helen shook her head. "I don't understand. His doctor said that Jay was going on about somebody named Mickey doing it."
"Mickey was my boyfriend at the time; a nice man who loved the kids. He and Jay never got along though, Mickey once called him a "looney tune." The day after he said that? We were all at the movies, expect Jay; we come home, and there's a bloody knife on the floor. Our neighbor said that he had seen Jay briefly after we left, told us that he got in his car and sped down the road. We finally tracked Jay down at the hospital, and when they told me he'd be all right, we took him home. When he woke up? He smiled and told me what he had told the doctor. Mickey left the next day, and I never saw him again."
"What happened to Jay?" Gerard asked.
"I put up with him until he aged out of the system. The day he left I said that he destroys everything and he just laughed and said that was his goal." Carrie said.
"Carrie, we have to know. Would Jay seem like the type of person to you that would be involved with drug trafficking?" Helen asked.
Carrie looked up at Helen. "He loves chaos, always loves to start something dangerous. He destroyed his only chance at normalcy. I wouldn't exactly put drug trafficking past him."