Chapter 18: Busted

The caller -whoever they were- hadn't told me where they would meet me for coffee, but I went out on a limb and guessed that they meant the Starbucks a block away from my apartment building; that's where I usually went for coffee.

It was a pretty standard Starbucks with dark walls and curtains, a display case full of treats, and a long menu of fancy drinks that nobody ordered. It was nothing special, but the coffee was cheap and nobody bothered me while I was there, so it served my purpose just fine.

When I arrived at 9:30 AM the morning rush was calming down, a few people sat at tables sipping their drinks.

Now, who is this mystery person? I thought, scanning the room.

I noticed a man with dark hair sitting on one of the couches peering over his newspaper at me. At first I thought he was the person I needed to talk to, but as I approached him I saw a woman in a hoodie sitting at a table behind him.

When I looked in her direction she slowly and deliberately lifted her cup so that I could see it; "Sara" was written on it in black ink. Close enough.

I walked over to her and tapped on the table twice "'scuse me?" I asked.

"Hello Miss Valens,"

Before I could say anything she stood up and grabbed my arm "let's walk and talk."

We left the coffee shop and walked down the street at a leisurely pace. "So, what's the skinny?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Can you have the suit ready by Monday?"

"Sure" I blurted out "where do I meet you?"

"The Double Cross"

"I don't know where that is."

"It's a night club in the East End"

"The East End-"

"It's two stories tall and has a brightly lit neon centerfold on the sign, it's hard to miss."

"But-"

"Go there at one AM, come in through the fire escape door and when they ask you your name tell them it's 'Betsy Ross.' Got it?"

"I-"

"Good," she said, "now get lost." She turned and jogged away; I never did find out who she was.

Click, click, click, click, click, click, click,

I sat at the sewing machine, mindlessly moving the fabric under the needle. What am I doing? I thought as I finished the left shoulder.

Jermaine's warning echoed through my mind;

It's hard to cut ties with these people, when you're in it, you're in it for life, you know?

I was going to prove him wrong. That's what I told myself. I would give Dent his damn suit and use the money to buy a ticket out of Gotham and rent an apartment out of state. No more Riddler, no more Two-Face, no more Batman and no more Gotham. I would disappear.

Those few days were some of the longest of my life. I worked my shift at Ditko's during the day and spent almost the whole night sewing the suit. My colleagues often asked me if I was okay. My eyes were puffy, my fingers were raw, and I barely ever chatted; I didn't have the energy.

I was finished with the suit by Sunday afternoon.

I called a service to hire a taxi far in advance, but when I told the driver where he was going he refused to take me all the way there.

"I don't want to be car-jacked again" he said, shaking his head furiously, "I'll drive you to city center but no further."

After much negotiation I gave in and he dropped me off a safe three blocks away from the East End.

I don't really blame him for not wanting to drive through there. Gotham's East End is the most crime-ridden, underdeveloped section of the city. I had travelled through there on a bus once or twice but on both occasions it was in broad daylight when all the hookers, drug dealers and muggers were asleep. It was early in the morning now and the East End had come alive. Groups of people in barely any clothing strutted up and down the street, bright neon signs advertising sex shops and strip clubs stretched across the skyline; there were rumors that a hit man service existed somewhere in the East End but these had never been confirmed. Park Row, usually called "Crime Alley" was the worst part of the city; a night time walk through there without a weapon or a posse constituted attempted suicide. Luckily the Double Cross was a few blocks away from there.

I went around the back and walked up the fire escape to the back door. I knocked three times,

"Who is it?" Asked a throaty voice,

"Betsy Ross"

I heard a click and the sliding of a chain, and the door opened, "come on in."

The door led to a long, thin hallway with nothing in it aside from the hooded man that held the door open for me and a few doors labeled "staff only". "You have the suit?" He asked.

I held up the duffel bag I was carrying, "right here."

He grunted and gestured towards the second door on my right, "go through there." I nodded and walked to the door. I opened it and found nothing but an empty room with no windows or lights; it gave me the creeps. Just when I was about to leave the bag and go,

"GCPD!"

I froze, What?

"Turn around with your hands over your head."

Shit.

I did as I was told and my heart sank; the officer was the man who had greeted me at the door, and with his hood off I saw that he was also the man who had been looking over his newspaper at me in the coffee shop. I had been caught.

He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and walked up to me, "Sarah Valens, you are under arrest for criminal facilitation, you have the right to remain silent…"

"Criminal facilitation?" I asked incredulously as he cuffed me, "what does that even mean?"

"It means knowingly providing aid to someone who means to commit a felony; you have the right to an attorney…"

I was numb. I couldn't believe what was happening, my thoughts raced.

You're beginning to develop a reputation; those don't normally end well in Gotham.

"Miss Valens?"

I jumped, "yes officer?"

"I asked, 'do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?'"

I nodded. He pulled out his radio, "Reagan? Got her." He escorted me down the back stairs and to the front of the building where Officer Reagan was waiting. She looked me over with a mixture of annoyance and disappointment, "Sarah Valens" she said, "why am I not surprised?"

"Hello Officer Reagan"

"It's Detective Reagan now, Miss Valens."

A few more officers, including Murray, rushed out of the nightclub, "we checked the whole place; there's no one inside," said Murray breathlessly.

"Any leads on where they went?" Asked Reagan.

"No. We didn't find anything of any importance on the first floor and the second floor has been stripped clean. They didn't leave anything aside from the lights and some loose change, and given that the rooms smell of bleach I don't think we'll find much with forensics. It doesn't look like they were in much of a rush either; they knew we were coming."

She looked at me, "I take it you didn't get the memo?" I looked away sheepishly, "alright; finish up here, I'm gonna take Miss 'Ross' downtown." As I was shoved into the back of one of the police cars I caught Murray's eye. He grimaced and gave me a little "OK" sign before Regan's partner shut the door.

We drove in silence for a few minutes. "Criminal facilitation?" I asked as we approached Wayne tower, neither of them answered. "Seriously?" I demanded.

"You are a fool Sarah!" Reagan snapped. In the past I would have stiffened up in alarm, but I didn't even flinch. "The last time you made a suit for one of these people you almost got killed; now you've done it again? What were you thinking?"

"That I would make some quick cash and leave town" I fired back, "working as a dress buyer for a thrift store doesn't exactly pay well."

She sighed, "you're right; the charge is a stretch, and you'll probably be acquitted. But I bet that a few nights in custody will do you some good," as she said that, the tall, brick building that was the city jail came into view, but instead of stopping there she drove right past it.

"Um, Detective" I said, "we just passed the jail."

"Who said anything about the city jail?" Her partner chimed in.

"Not me," replied Reagan, "We're going to Stonegate."

My blood ran cold, "Stonegate Penitentiary?"

"Mmm-hmm" Reagan replied casually, "Gotham City Jail's been overcrowded now for years, so until they build a new addition everyone waiting to see a judge gets sent to Stonegate. Go figure."

True to her word, we drove past the police station and outside of city limits to Stonegate. It was a very strange looking prison. It was entirely made of metal with a large triangular prison yard jutting high off of the ground from the much smaller main building. Booking was quick; I guess when you have that many prisoners coming in every day it has to be done quickly. Because I was awaiting a bail posting I was put in a minimum security dormitory along with the petty criminals and other women awaiting trial. Legally my bail had to be posted within 72 hours of my arrest, so my plan was to keep my head low until they let me go. That became impossible the next day at breakfast. The prisoners were escorted in one dorm at a time, mine was one of the last to leave. As I was about to sit down at one of the big metal tables I heard a voice ask "Sarah?"

I turned my head and saw a familiar face staring at me from across the room, "Jermaine," I said flatly.

He put a hand over his face, "dammit."

Hi all; I'm finally back. Wow, has it really been a year? I'm so sorry. I don't want to go into a long explanation about why I haven't updated this in so long, but basically the shit hit the fan about three weeks after I wrote the last chapter. Just a warning; I'm not in the same state of mind I was a year ago (I'd actually say I was pretty cheerful judging from the last chapter I wrote) I don't know if this will come out in my writing or not. I'm determined to finish this, I don't know how long it will take me but I'm determined to finish it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Write to you later!