Corrupt officials. Philanthropists in dark dealings. The mayor himself, taking bribes and participating in fraud. “And me?” Bruce snapped. “Why am I on that list? I’ve done none of those things. My parents were good people—they enacted real change with their wealth. All I’ve done is try to continue their legacy.”
“WayneTech is going to make millions on that contract to improve Gotham City’s police forces. Isn’t it?” Madeleine’s expression was grave now. “The Nightwalkers fight against obscene wealth that controls the hands of government, the shackles that imprison those too weak to defend themselves. They don’t believe anyone should have the right to that much money and power. Death to tyranny.” She said it like it was a slogan, and Bruce felt a chill sweep through him again as he recognized it from the note left by the Nightwalkers at the mayor’s murder scene. “They fight against people like you, regardless of whether or not you’ve been lumped in with the wrong crowd. They hadn’t targeted you before because you had yet to turn eighteen and come into possession of your funds. But now you’re on the radar. You have the wealth they want.” She paused. “You’re next, Bruce.”
Her words sounded more like a threat than a warning. “And what do you suggest I do?” he said.
“Leave Gotham City,” Madeleine replied immediately. “Go take a trip somewhere; fly to Tahiti and spend the rest of the summer there. You’re done with your time here at Arkham soon anyway, right? That’ll be the end of our conversations. Stay out of the Nightwalkers’ way.”
Bruce shook his head in confusion. “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “You seem like you want to stop them; you’re trying to protect me. But now you don’t want to get in the Nightwalkers’ way. Do you support them or not? What are you doing, Madeleine? Who are you protecting?”
Madeleine just looked at him as if she wished there were some other way. He could feel something invisible pulling him toward her just as she leaned toward him. Then she turned away. “I’m sorry,” she said with a glance over her shoulder.
And that was it.
“Wait,” he called after her, but she didn’t turn back around. He was in danger? He was on the hit list? “You have to tell me more. You know what they’re—”
“Bruce.”
He whirled to see Detective Draccon storming down the end of the hall, her long coat flapping behind her and Dr. James close at her side.
“What the hell are you doing down here?” Dr. James blurted out at the sight of him. Her eyes darted up to the security cams, which were once again blinking red.
“You’re off the case,” Draccon added. “Done.”
Bruce glanced back into Madeleine’s cell. She wasn’t facing him, but her stillness told him that she was listening to what was happening. As the detective and warden reached him, Madeleine turned her head enough for him to glimpse the profile of her face. She was smiling slightly.
“You don’t understand,” he said to them, pointing at Madeleine. “She knows more about the mayor’s murder. She said that I—”
“You’re coming with me.” Draccon cut him off. Her hand clamped down on Bruce’s arm. “And if I so much as see you look in the direction of that girl again, I’ll send you back to court myself.”
Rain dotted the windshield of Draccon’s car as she drove Bruce off Arkham’s premises. As they headed into the winding path framed by skeleton trees, the detective’s dark eyes flashed with fury in the dim light.
“What about my car?” Bruce glanced over his shoulder toward the asylum.
“GCPD will have it back to you in a couple of hours,” Draccon snapped, handing him a folded piece of paper. “After the mayor’s death and your actions this morning, it wasn’t difficult to get a warrant to search your car. Besides, I want to see you actually arrive home with my own two eyes. Who knows what else you’re getting up to by yourself.”
“You suspect me of something?”
“Am I being unreasonable, after your display today?” She glanced at him. “I specifically told you not to go back down there. Why’d you do it?”
“I had to ask Madeleine one last question,” Bruce insisted. “Detective, Madeleine can point us to who killed the mayor. She knows. I think the Nightwalkers are up to something big, and I—”
“Know what I think? I think you’re sad to leave her. Tell me, Bruce, was it a coincidence that the security cams down there reset at the same time you decided to talk to Madeleine without my consent?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You can cut the act with me. You think I’ve never seen a boy in love?” She sniffed once as she made a sharper turn than she needed to, sending her bag and papers sliding across the car’s back seat. “I’ve fallen in and out of love more times than I can count, and let me tell you—you’ve made a little room for her in that heart of yours. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but this one’s probably not going to work out.”
Bruce tried to imagine the detective in love, letting down the authoritative shell she operated behind. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” she said. “Why do you keep talking to her, then?”
Draccon had been watching the security tapes closely. Bruce looked over at her to see that her expression had turned clinical, that she was fishing for more. He took a deep breath. “I don’t think Madeleine killed those three people.”
Draccon shot Bruce a hard glance. “And what makes you think that?”
“I was reading about the details of her crimes, and of her mother’s crimes. She seems like she’s protecting someone out there who’s still at large. You know those napkins she’s always folding? I don’t think she’s just doing them for fun—I think she folds them to send messages with her gestures via the security cams. And the mayor was murdered this morning. Someone else is still out there, committing the crimes that we thought Madeleine was responsible for. It just doesn’t add up.”
Draccon leaned forward against the steering wheel. “Wow—you’ve got it worse than I thought.”
“I’m saying this objectively,” Bruce snapped. “I’m not stupid.”
“No. You’re just naive.” Draccon’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “When we arrested her, it was at the scene of the final murder. I was one of the officers shining the spotlight on her. She was covered in blood, Bruce, with cuts in her gloves and knives strapped to her legs. Her fingerprints were all over the house. When the police questioned her afterward, asking if she’d done it, she nodded for each of the murders.”
“She’s far too smart to leave fingerprints all over the house,” Bruce replied. “You haven’t stood there and had a conversation with her. You haven’t heard her. If you did, you’d understand what I mean.”
“I haven’t talked to her because she chooses to talk to you. Why do you think that is? You’re questioning my work, Bruce, the work of the entire police department,” Draccon said. “She killed those people. Now she’s giving us—you—some information that’s slightly useful to us, because she’s finally realized that it might help her avoid the death penalty. It doesn’t do her any good to keep holding information back.”
“And what have you all done to try getting more information out of her?”