Patchwork

Gordon had been locked in the mayor’s office for well over an hour and a half with the mayor and the district attorney, engaged in a conference that was more like a one-side yelling match. To say the mayor was angry was an understatement.

“Why in the hell didn’t you guard her in the first place?” he bellowed.

“Sir, we -”

“How are you going to find her?”

“Sir, we are working -”

“Don’t ‘sir’ me, Gordon. How are you going to find her?”

Gordon took a deep breath and let it out. He looked at the district attorney, hoping for support, but only got a shrug.

“Mr. Mayor, we have analysts examining the video we received, looking for any clue. We’ve already determined she must be in a warehouse, based on the construction of the room she was in.”

“Why don’t you just start searching warehouses?” the mayor demanded.

“That’s just not practical,” Gordon replied steadily. “To search all the warehouses in Gotham within the time period, we’d have to have five times the police force we do now, and put every officer on the search. There are other crimes besides this one to consider.” Seeing the mayor open his mouth, he held up a hand. “Besides, sending one officer armed with one handgun into a building where the Joker may be hiding would be a suicide mission.”

The mayor sank into his chair. He rubbed his face with both hands, as if trying to scrub away his helplessness.

“Sir -”

The mayor looked at him.

“Sir, if I could just ask you a few questions, we might be able to discover something that could help us.”

The mayor waved his hand, a gesture for him to go ahead.

Gordon took a breath. “In the tape, he said he had your favorite relative.” The sentence left a question hanging.

“She is,” the mayor replied. “Maggie and I don’t have any children, and Sarah’s parents moved away in her senior year of high school. She opted to stay here in Gotham to finish school. She stayed with us. We helped her pay for college, helped her find her first apartment. She was like a daughter to us.”

“Is this common knowledge?”

The mayor shrugged. “Common enough. Our family knows it, as well as our friends and some of our working colleagues.”

“I’ll need a list of everyone who knew.” Gordon paused, his forehead furrowed. “We have to consider the possibility that the Joker has you under surveillance. When was the last time you visited her?”

“I haven’t visited her for months, since this business with that maniac first started.”

Gordon nodded and stood up. “I’ll need that list, sir, as soon as you can.”

The mayor nodded silently, then lurched out of his chair to grip the commissioner’s arm. “Tell me you’ll find her, Gordon,” he said forcefully. Gordon carefully pried his hand off, patting his shoulder awkwardly.

“We’ll do the best we can, sir.”

He left the mayor with the district attorney, to accomplish what he could. On his way out the building, he pulled a cell phone from his pocket, and pressed the numbers for the major crimes squad.

“Rick,” he said when someone answered. “Have you sent a crew to the girl’s apartment? Well, did they find anything? Hold on, save it until I get back to the station. I’ll be there in,” he paused, checking his watch. “Two minutes.”


--


“Commissioner.”

“Rick, what did they find at the girl’s apartment?”

“It’s just like she said on the tape,” the detective replied, running a hand through his short, graying hair. “There was a dead man, alright, name of Joseph, Michael. Psych problems, recently released from prison.”

“And?”

“Knife wound to the throat, knife was at the scene.”

“The Joker’s prints?”

“We should be so lucky. He left a card at the scene, though. They found someone’s thumbprint, right in the middle of the card, and ran it through the system. Andrew Arkadeyevich, immigrated from Russia, picked up for murder, living in the loony bin.”
Gordon sighed, rubbing his eyes. When he looked up, he looked out the window. Rick followed his eyes, then looked back.

“Almost dark,” Gordon said in response to his unasked question. “Day one’s over. Only two days to find her.” He stood and took the case files off of the detective’s desk. “Thanks, Rick.”

The detective opened his mouth to form a question, but Gordon was already gone.


--


The night was darker than usual, the moon hidden by heavy clouds that had rolled in after sunset. On the roof of the police station, Commissioner Gordon leaned against the wall that separated the roof from open air. He had come up here occasionally since the city’s anger turned itself on Batman, but not often. He had no idea if the Batman would come or not. It was merely a faint hope, and knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep, that brought him up here to watch the city at night.

In his coat pocket were copies of every file and photograph relevant to the case, as well as a copy of the original tape. If the Batman showed up, he was prepared to offer all the information he could in exchange for help.

“I heard you were having trouble.”

The voice from behind him was a growl, and he recognized it immediately.

“You’ve heard.”

Silence. Gordon sighed. “As a subject of a warrant, I can’t ask you to help us. But,” he said, pulling the files and tape from his coat pocket. “I’m very careless with my files.”

He set the files on the wall and turned away, deliberately keeping his eyes from where he knew Batman to be. He crossed the roof to the door into the station. Pulling it open, he paused to look behind him. There was no sign of Batman, and the files were gone. He wondered briefly if he’d made the right choice, until he remembered Sarah Parker’s face on the tape, and the knife inches from her throat.