“What?” Bruce leaned away from her. “That’swhat you got from what I told you?”
“It’s obvious, Bruce. Remember Cindie Patel from seventh grade? You were wild about her—remember when she lost her grandmother’s bangle during lunch, and you skipped five lunches after that just to look for it?”
“Hey, I found that bangle.”
Dianne clapped her hands twice. “Focus, Bruce! You always need to be the white knight, and now you’re obsessing over a random hint from this girl to the point where you’re willing to risk your probation. It’s the exact same thing.”
Bruce gave her a wry look. “Except I knew Cindie Patel because she sat next to me in Biology, and I know Madeleine because she’s in jail for three murders.”
Dianne waved a hand in the air. “Details. You know what I mean.”
Madeleine materialized again in Bruce’s thoughts.Maybe she’s right.But that made no sense at all. “Look, I’m here becauseIwant to be,” he said, firmly this time. “That’s it.”
“Whatever. You know, Harvey would be pissed at you if he found out this is what you’re up to right now. And he’s got a point, Bruce. Sometimes you should trust the police to do the right thing. If Draccon finds out you’re snooping around like this, they might even extend your sentence.”
Always curious, aren’t you?He shook his head, trying to shake Madeleine’s words out of his head. “How about this: if I find nothing—”
“Ifwefind nothing.” Dianne shrugged at him. “I’m involved now. I can’t just leave you here.”
Bruce glared at her, but she didn’t look away. “Fine. Ifwefind nothing, I promise I’ll never do this again. Ever. But you can’t tell anyone else about this. I’m serious.”
Dianne scowled at him. “You owe me one, for making sure you don’t get yourself killed.”
At that, Bruce gave her a wry smile. “All right, all right. I owe you one. Thanks for looking out for me. And hey—Lucius is throwing a huge gala in a couple of weeks, to demonstrate some of WayneTech’s drone security technology. Do you want to come with me and make sure I don’t get myself killed?”
Dianne gave him a sideways look. “Really?”
“It’s pretty fancy.”
“Will they be serving good food?”
“The best,” Bruce promised.
She considered for a moment with pursed lips. “Okay,” she said. “Sounds like a plan.”
Bruce gestured to the corner of the block. “Stay over here, by the frame of that doorway. There. You’re not so conspicuous now. Keep a lookout for me. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, call someone.”
“Fine. But only if you stay on the phone with me the entire time.” Dianne took out her phone and tapped it twice. “And if it actually takes you longer than thirty minutes, I’m sending every cop in Gotham City after you.”
“Fair enough.”
Bruce headed away from Dianne and back along the fence. It wrapped all the way around the building without a single break, leading him right back to where he had started. He paused after another round, rubbing his eyes from staring so hard at the building.
What was he looking for, anyway?
Something in the corner of his eyes caught his attention. He looked down at the chain-link fence. He frowned, looking harder.
The fence was unbroken, sure…but along the chain link was a series of metal bumps, what looked like former breaks in the fence that were then welded back into place. It was a subtle detail, one that Bruce had nearly overlooked. But there was no question about it. The fence was welded shut. Which meant someone else had cut through it at some point, then carefully hid any tracks.
Construction workers. GCPD investigators. Private detectives. Bruce ran the series of noncriminal possibilities through his mind. It could mean nothing at all, of course…but this was a former crime scene, and anunsolvedone. What if the Nightwalkers had been up to more here than just destroying the Bellingham legacy? Bruce looked back up at the facade of the building. Something had made someone return here, without wanting anyone else to know.
He swung his backpack around and unzipped it, took out his ski mask and gloves, and pulled them both on tightly until his face and hands were hidden from view. He held up the bolt cutters, carefully placing each bolt between the metal teeth.Clink. Clink.One by one, they popped off, dropping soundlessly into his waiting palm. He tossed the broken bolts into his backpack and zipped it up. The overlapping fence swung open a hair. Bruce pushed it open wider, until there was just enough space to slide through, and then he inched his way in, disappearing past the black tarp.
Wooden boards were nailed all along the side of the building, but enough gaps existed for him to climb through. Inside, the space smelled musty, claustrophobic, the air reeking of dust and the tang of metal. Bruce waited for a moment, letting his eyes adjust. He felt comfortable here in the darkness. Immediately after his parents’ deaths, he had spent many nights tucked in the safe black space of his closet, or in an empty pantry in the mansion, or up in the attic, where a cold draft blew. So many of his classmates had been afraid of the dark, as if it could hurt them. But Bruce knew the darkness hidhimas well as it hid anything or anyone else. The darkness was an advantage.
His reflexes were on alert now, honed by all the hours spent at the training gym. As things gradually started to take shape in the dim light, he realized that he was standing in a single open room. Edison bulbs dangled from the ceiling’s exposed beams, half of them burst open and broken, leaving shards of glass strewn across the floor. Everything had been draped in sheets—tables, chairs, machines. The dust on the floorboards was marked with shoe prints, perhaps from the police who must have passed through here.Perhaps from others, too.
“This place is a mess,” Bruce whispered into his phone.
