Chapter 7

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Bruce stared at the phone in his hand, and wondered if he was making a mistake.

He should just let it go. Ignore the niggling doubts in his head. The questions that were boring holes in his brain...

But he couldn't.

He needed answers. He needed to know if his insane theory was just that - insane - or if it was somehow the truth.

He dialled the number.

"Hello?" Gordon's voice was strong - a sign that he was on the mend - and Bruce was relieved to hear it.

"It's me," he responded, dropping his voice into his 'Batman' register.

"You have a phone?" Gordon sounded surprised. And a bit annoyed. "All this time we could've just been calling each other, instead of using that signal?"

"This is a one-off. I couldn't get to you any other way."

"Yeah, you're persona non grata at the moment. I'll sort that out when I get discharged - I'll make it clear in my report that you weren't to blame for the botched op. We wouldn't have caught Newsome without you." He paused. "Is that why you called me?"

"No. Its about Newsome's last victim."

"I heard about that. A mystery 'samaritan' found her and dropped her at the hospital."

Bruce could hear the scepticism in Gordon's voice. "You don't think it was a samaritan," he deduced. "Are you thinking an accomplice instead?"

"The timing is odd, that's all. The night we take Newsome into custody, someone just happens to stumble across his latest victim? Don't tell me you haven't considered it."

Bruce had. "Apparently the person who dropped her off was a woman. Female accomplices aren't exactly common and there was nothing in Newsome's house to suggest he had a girlfriend."

"True," Gordon said. "But I've heard stranger things."

He hadn't heard Bruce's theory.

"Do you know anything more about her? The samaritan?" Bruce asked.

Gordon sighed in frustration. "No. The ER staff didn't get a good look at her and all you can see on the CCTV is someone in a baseball cap. The car wasn't caught on camera, and the nurses were too busy with the semi-conscious women in the passenger seat to take much notice of the make and model. They just said it was blue and 'looked fast'."

Shit.

Bruce scrubbed his face with his free hand. His insane theory had just gotten a lot more plausible. Beth's car was blue, and fast...

It was also currently covered in mud, with scratches all along the bodywork. As if she'd been driving in the country through narrow lanes.

He'd noticed the damage to her car last night when he'd dropped by her office. He'd wanted to update her on Newsome's victim. He could have called her...but the desire to see her won out again.

He found her clicking through autopsy photos on her computer. She was examining images of a mutilated, partially-flayed body while eating a yoghurt. He marvelled at her ability to compartmentalise.

"What happened to him?" He asked in greeting.

She jerked her head up and swore. "I'm gonna put a bell on you!"

He said nothing in response, just stepped closer to view the pictures. It looked like the work of a particularly sadistic killer. "Is this something I need to know about?"

She shook her head and closed down the screen. "Man picked a fight with a train. Train won. What's up?" She seemed to catch herself. "I mean, did you find Newsome's captive?"

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