Outside the yard stood a small shed, just big enough for Gordon to stand upright, with a bench and stool tucked inside. A wooden shelf ran along the back, carved into tiny compartments.
His hands rested on the wood, spread shoulder-width as he thought. A stinging pain throbbed across his face. A bruise darkened the skin around one eye, which was half-closed. The white of his left eye was still red; the pressure had eased, but it lingered as a dull, nagging reminder. He ran a hand over his mustache, trying to shift his focus.
He was thinking about Nebraska when Junior appeared in the doorway.
"Mom said you wanted to talk to me."
"I do." Gordon opened one of the compartments and pulled out what had struck his flashlight just a few nights ago: small, black, sharp-edged—bat-shaped. He held it up.
Junior's head dropped.
Gordon knelt. "When I gave it to you, what did I say?"
"It's not a toy."
"And?"
"Not to let Barbara see it. But she was snooping on my side of the room. It's not fair."
Gordon stood and pointed to the stool. Junior climbed up, sighed.
"I know it's been tough lately. It's a tighter fit here. But we make do with what we're given, even if it's not much."
"I know." Junior looked at him. "Am I grounded?"
"No. I'll tell your mom I gave it to you."
"Won't she be mad?"
"Probably. But that's on me."
Junior tilted his head, scrunching his face until his freckles bunched together. Gordon recognized the look, a question was coming.
"You said it's not real?" asked Junior.
"It's not."
"How do you know?"
Gordon turned the thing over in his fingers, running a thumb over the wings. "The real ones fold in."
"Really?"
"He keeps them in a compartment on his belt."
"How do you know?"
"I just do." Gordon opened a drawer on the shelf. "This one's yours. We'll keep it in here."
"Okay. I can put anything in there?"
"Sure."
A voice from the door. "Jim," said Alice, holding a thick envelope in her arms.
Gordon nudged Junior. "Go inside."
Junior hopped down and ran off. They waited for the back door to slam shut.
"I thought you were going to ask where he got it," Alice said. "Not give him a place to hide it."
"I gave it to him."
"Jim," said Alice with disbelief.
"My father gave me a hunting knife when I was his age. This isn't that different."
"It's very different. That man is a violent criminal. Junior shouldn't idolize him."
Gordon sank onto the stool. "That's one way to see it."
"And this?" she said, placing the package on the workbench. "Is there another way to see this?"
"What?"
"I don't care what's in it." She grabbed at her neck, then her shoulder like she was comforting herself. "Jim, I don't care what you did. I love you, I'll stand by you, but I don't like what this city's turning you into."
"What's it turning me into?"
"The thick packages. No addresses. I'm not stupid, Jim."
The implication hit him so hard he leaned back, forgetting he was on a stool. He nearly lost his balance.
"Jesus, Alice—I'm not on the take. Is that what you thought?"
"What was I supposed to think?"
Gordon looked at her. She wasn't wrong. This was Gotham. "You should know me better than that."
"I know things have been hard."
"I'd move us to Nebraska before I took a dime. I hope you know that."
"Then what is it?"
He hesitated, then crossed his arms. "Reports. Summaries. Blood analysis."
"For work?"
"Yes."
"But that doesn't make sense."
Gordon opened Junior's drawer and pulled out the blade.
"From him."
She stared, putting it together.
"I should've told you. I thought it was safer not to. He is a criminal, and if I was caught, I'd be in just as much trouble." Gordon sat back on the stool, holding the black blade in his hand. "Loeb knows—that's why he sent his men after me—"
She stepped in and hugged him. It hurt—he didn't say it. She kissed him. That hurt too. He winced.
She whispered, "I thought I lost you."
He hugged her back. Her arms around him, though painful, brought a relief that was short-lived.
The back door creaked open. "Mom? Dad? Someone's at the door."
Gordon cracked the front door open to find Bullock standing outside.
"We gotta go," said Bullock. When he saw Alice behind him, he said, "Last time, I said I'd keep him safe. This time, we're all watching." He pointed to Rusty and Chen, waiting in a car behind his Plymouth. Behind them, another car stuffed with men.