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Lost Holidays
Chapter Seven
written by destinyawakened
Wednesday, December 31 – New Year's Eve Evening
The streets of downtown Gotham had started to fill early on with people wanting to find good spots to watch the ball drop and the fireworks go off. Gordon knew crowd control was going to be a huge issue for the GCPD, and had called in every last officer to work a little overtime. He knew the mayor wasn't going to like that, but when they had a murderer out there with no leads as to who it was or where they would strike next. Gordon didn't care what the mayor thought; His job was to protect this city, not force it further down a larger bottomless pit, writing it off because there just weren't enough officers – it would be a lie, and one Gordon wasn't going to be a part of.
The information Selina had extracted from the shop owners lead them to a place that would be very out of the way and secluded during the festivities. Gordon was going to have Stephens on it, keeping watch for anything unusual, but Bruce insisted he be there too. Gordon didn't argue; the younger man's reasons were more than acceptable – if the killer did show up, Stephens would need backup, and quick. Who better than Batman? Stephens didn't mind, but he did tell Gordon that he didn't want to have any conversations with the Bat, so he'd better keep his distance and only talk him if he needed it. Gordon couldn't see why people thought Batman was so intimidating, but then again he may have also been a little biased.
There were not connections to either the Assistant DA or the DA that lead them to a possible next murder victim, which made the night even more difficult, as it could have been any person on the street. Gordon himself suspected it may be someone in the court system, but he had no proof; the mayor told him to keep his mouth shut about it and not worry people where worry wasn't due. It was more than difficult for Gordon to keep quiet when he had a suspicion he was right. Hopefully as the night went on the answer would make itself clear.
“Commissioner, we're set at point A,” Stephens grumbled through the walkie-talkie Gordon was holding in his hand.
“Point B, too.” Selina said through her side. She was standing watch over on the other roof across from the building they were suspecting. She would watch the other angle in case they missed something. Gordon was on the ground, in the middle of the crowd, trying to keep his head straight, eyes open, and senses aware; New Years was definitely not a good time to be trying to catch a killer.
“Keep me posted.” Gordon called back through his walkie, clipping it back onto his belt. The crowd was starting to pile in thicker, the countdown growing near. If they were wrong, if they had been mislead, this was all going to be for nothing. A little part of Gordon's stomach sunk a little at the realization that everything about their leads just seemed so wrong – so staged. He couldn't be sure, or even begin to guess where they had been lead astray, but it could have been anywhere down the line, the shop owners perhaps paid off to lead them to the spot they were in now. After years and years, Gordon knew when something wasn't right. This was definitely one of those times.
He pulled out his cell phone, finding the number for the Batsuit's headgear phone (they had recently installed for these occasions). “What's wrong?” came the rough whisper of Batman.
“I think we have this all wrong. I'm pretty sure we've been set up to believe this is what we're looking for, but something doesn't sit well me.” Gordon replied, walking through a crowd of teenage girls huddling together, towards an open alley-way.
“I had the same feeling. It all seems too easy.”
“Tell Stephens to keep a look out up there. I need you down here with me. I have a pretty bad feeling.” Gordon hung up the phone before Bruce could object or question his logic any further. He only had to wait two minutes before he felt the wind change behind him; without even turning around, he already knew Batman was there.
“What's your theory?” Batman asked.
“Haven't you noticed that the murders have been done away from where the events happen, not just in an uncrowded area? At Thanksgiving, it was a tree that no one was even close to. Christmas was at the small church no one goes to, rather than at the big one everyone goes to.”
“We need to figure out what's obvious but not popular.” Batman said with a nod – what Gordon considered a nod ,anyway; it was always hard to tell when he was wearing the cowl, and his movements were often choppy. “We don't have a lot of time to figure it out before the ball drops, either.”
Gordon placed his hands on his hips. “What if we're wrong about the assumption that it's happening at the ball drop? That the stroke of midnight is officially New Year's Day and that it is the exact time the murderer is going to kill again? Doesn't that seem so...”
“Easy?” Batman asked, giving Gordon a knowing look. Maybe they were lead to believe all this so they would be out of the way, so that nothing would happen and then come tomorrow they would assume the next murder wasn't going to take place at all. The reality was that tomorrow was New Year's Day all day; it could happen at any time.
Gordon threw his hands up in disgust. “We're wasting our damn time here. Who ever suggested that it was going to be New Year's Eve when the fireworks went off and the ball dropped has some explaining to do.” He was growing aggravated; he should have listened to his own gut long ago, stopped being so worried about his personal life and put his job first, where it belonged.
Batman was quiet for a minute, shifting his weight so he was leaning in towards Gordon. “Selina Kyle,” he whispered. Gordon glared at him knowingly. He didn't want to be right about her, didn't want to think that maybe another corrupt cop had slipped past them. He couldn't jump to conclusions either, though; she may very well have been misinformed.
Gordon looked to Batman. “Alright. Deepen your investigation on her. I won't say a word this time. Promise.”
Batman made a noise that Gordon thought was perhaps a snicker, but he couldn't be sure. “I'll see what I can do.” There was silence for a few moments while Gordon checked his watch for the time. Not much longer now and, the truth would become clear, but he had a pretty good feeling for the outcome.
“Go watch the tower, will you?” Gordon asked, but when he looked up from his watch again, Batman had already left. He sighed, watching the seconds on his watch pass slowly, a minute left. One minute to see if the murderer was as smart as they thought.
Everything cleared, perfectly and smoothly. No violence out of the norm, no murders, no killings, nothing. By the time the streets were empty, Stephens, Selina, Batman and Gordon were alone, staring at each other, looking almost ashamed. Gordon stood, arms over his chest, and heaved a sigh. Stephens shrugged, and Selina just stared at him.
“Go home. All of you,” Gordon said, waving a hand at them. “We'll meet again in the morning.” Stephens nodded, grabbing Selina by the arm to turn her towards the police car they had arrived in together. Gordon turned to Batman. “I could use a ride.”
-------
The tinkling of Gordon's cell phone brought him out of a deep sleep. He reached for it on the nightstand, bringing it in close to it face, trying to see the letters on the screen without his glasses. It was three letters, so he assumed it was MCU, as it was the only three letter number in his phone.
“Gordon,” he mumbled into the phone after hitting the accept key. He felt he'd had this phone conversation many times in the past few days, and he was sure this one was going to turn out the same. He felt around the nightstand for his glasses, finding them and securing them on his face.
“I'm sure I don't even need to tell you this,” Stephens said, sounding just as tired as Gordon felt.
“Just tell me where.”
“Clock Tower.”
It was far from the place Gordon had suspected. Why the Clock Tower? “Be there in twenty,” he said, hanging up the phone and turning over to face Bruce, who was hiding his head under a pillow, unmoving. Gordon shook his head. “We have to go.”
Bruce stirred, peeking his head out from under the pillow so that only his eyes were visible to Gordon. “We? If I go it's going to look suspicious.”
“You have to drive me. The Clock Tower is not within walking distance.”
“What happened to your oh-so-wonderful public transportation?” Bruce whined, sitting up in bed now, stretching his arms. Gordon just stared at him, hardly in the mood to be playing these games with him. Bruce rolled his eyes, kicking his feet over the side of the bed. “Fine. You owe me coffee.”
They dressed quickly, leaving just five minutes later. Bruce yawned the whole way there. He dropped Gordon off at the corner near the Clock Tower, and sped off down the street towards a small, family-owned coffee shop, where he'd sit, have his coffee and wait for Gordon to call him with details. Gordon almost wished these murders would stop happening during the day; Batman being unable to attend the meetings was growing old, especially when they then had to turn around and have another meeting with the mayor.
Gordon walked up to the police line, the feeling of deja-vu running through his head as he ducked under the yellow police tape. Didn't he just do this a few days ago? Selina popped up next to him from out of nowhere; he looked at her with a little surprise, but she smiled innocently. She put a hand on his shoulder, leading him towards the elevator inside the lobby of the tower.
“Gotta go up,” she said quietly, ushering Gordon into the shaft before pushing the up arrow. Gordon nodded, standing beside the young woman, hands folded in front of him. The elevator went to the last floor at the top, and Gordon gestured for Selina to go first as the door slid open.
What Gordon was expecting and what he saw were very different. Inside the Clock Tower was a gear room that controlled the clock. The gears were, of course, huge, and immaculately kept, cleaned, oiled, and working. Gordon had expected another strangulation, a body hanging from the hands of the clock, but not this – not a mutilated body mangled in the gears of the huge clock, blood spilled over the floor below it, the insides of what used to be a person stuck in the crevices of the gears. Everything had been stopped, of course, to aid in the investigation, and the soon-to-follow clean up. Gordon shook his head, looking over at Stephens, who was taking down notes on a small pad of paper.
“Have you identified the body?” Gordon asked, approaching Stephens, with his hands in his pockets. Given the time, he might be able to figure it out himself, but he wanted to spend the least amount of time here as possible and start working out the specifics of the case, to start reaching for new ideas on the next murder, because he knew there would be one.
“Judge Hampton,” he said, looking up from the paper. “His wallet was left on the floor next that gear there. Along with an unused party popper.” There's the trinket to mark the holiday, Gordon thought. He felt that spot in his stomach grow cold, and he started to hate himself. He knew it would be today, he knew they had been sent off course. Someone was throwing them off track purposely, that much was obvious, but as to who, Gordon couldn't even begin to guess, not with out more information.
“The mayor is not going to like this.”
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