When the Smoke Clears

Chapter 8

It was well into the morning when Frank pulled Lieberman's car into the drive. After insisting that she would be okay on her own, he'd dropped Karen off... at Matt Murdock's apartment, of all places. Apparently she was staying there while Murdock was out of town. The thought provoked a feeling of jealousy that Frank wasn't proud of, but he'd said nothing. He had no claim over Karen, and it wasn't like she had a place of her own to stay. Still, his mind ran rampant all the way back to Lieberman's. Murdock hadn't been able to get back to the city to see Karen either, but at least he'd offered her help from afar; offered her comfort. That was more than Frank had done. He hadn't even been able to manage a phone call, for Christ's sake.

Needless to say, he wasn't in the best mood when he arrived at the Lieberman house. David was standing on the front stoop when he pulled in, drinking a cup of coffee in a thick blue bathrobe. He raised his mug in mock toast, and for a moment Frank considered backing out and driving away. His body was sore from his brawl with the Serpents and subsequent dive in the East River, and he had a laundry list of things to be angry about. In his experience, Lieberman usually only added to his grief, but Frank wasn't here for himself. He was here for Karen. He turned off the engine and got out of the car.

"You look like shit," Lieberman noted as Frank walked up the drive.

"Glad you noticed," he grumbled. He felt like shit.

The man formerly known as Micro turned to open the door. "I'm guessing you found her?"

"Yeah," Frank said, following Lieberman into the house. He closed the door behind him and, after checking the soles of his boots for dirt, blood or any other mementos from last night, followed David down the hall. "She was at a rally near Lenox Hill."

Lieberman paused in the kitchen. He looked at Frank with concern. "I heard about that on the news. They said a huge fight broke out. Is she okay?"

"Is who okay?" Sarah Lieberman's voice entered the fray as she descended the stairs into the kitchen.

David grabbed a travel cup and took it to the coffee pot to fill it. "The woman Frank broke out of jail and stole our car for." He handed the cup to Sarah. "The one I'm not allowed to talk about."

"I didn't 'break out' of jail," Frank said tersely. "And you're the asshole who lent me the car." He nodded at Sarah, who raised her cup to him in greeting before heading into the next room in search of her keys, a knowing smile on her face.

"She's fine," Frank said after Sarah was gone. It wasn't entirely true. Physically, Karen would recover, but that seemed like the least of her concerns right now. Given everything she'd been through, it was a wonder she was functioning at all. David wasn't asking about that though, and Frank had no interest in sharing Karen's business, so he didn't. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to segway into what he had to say next.

"There's, uh... something I need your help with."

Lieberman perked a brow. It wasn't often Frank asked for favors. Cautiously, David asked: "What kind of help?"

"Wanted to see if you could look into someone," Frank said. "Guy by the name of Poindexter. He attacked Karen at the rally."

David folded his arms across his chest, concern etched into his brow. "Jesus." He huffed. "Was he with those Serpents or something?"

Frank shook his head. "Dunno," he said. "Karen said he's ex-military; ex-FBI. Used to be on Fisk's payroll."

Now, Lieberman's brows lifted in surprise. "That's quite the resume," he said. "What the hell is Karen doing on his radar?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Frank said with no small degree of annoyance. "But I don't care if he's the next goddamn Captain America. If he's after Karen-"