Blake knocked impatiently at the door of Wayne Manor. It was the middle of the afternoon, but no one answered, not even the butler. Worried, he nosed around the windows, yet couldn’t spot any signs of life inside the mansion.

A pair of French windows showed evidence of having been forced open.

Not a good sign, he thought. He considered calling it in, only to decide against it. Bruce Wayne had important secrets to protect. Blake didn’t want to risk blowing them on a false alarm. Maybe Wayne just forgot his keys.

Troubled, he returned to an unmarked police cruiser that was parked out front. Despite repeated attempts to contact Wayne, he hadn’t heard from the bankrupt billionaire since dropping him off in Old Town the day before. He was half-tempted to invest in a Bat-Signal.

Or perhaps there was someplace else he ought to check out first.

He drove straight to the same scuzzy street where he had last seen Wayne. Parking himself across from the dilapidated townhouse, he settled back and waited. It felt strange not to be wearing his uniform anymore. A new coat and suit marked his promotion to detective. He wondered what his old partner was up to now.

Ross had taken the news like a champ. No jealousy, no envy, just sincere congratulations. Blake already missed working with him.

Not that he wanted to go back…

He didn’t have to wait long before an attractive woman—who seemed far too elegantly attired for this part of town—exited the building. A stylish wide-brimmed hat shaded her striking features. It was the same dark hue as her fashionable black dress and matching gloves. A small collection of luggage suggested that she was going on a trip.

Something about her struck him as familiar, but it took him a moment to place her. A memory—of a frightened young woman bumping into him on her way out of that sleazy underworld bar—flashed through his brain. That had been the night Gordon was shot.

He took a closer look at the woman on the sidewalk.

Holy crap, he thought. It’s her.

It all fell into place. Congressman Gilly had claimed he’d been abducted by a woman—a woman matching her description. The congressman had been a bit vague, no doubt to protect his own reputation—and marriage. But now it made sense.

What had Gordon said again? That he wasn’t allowed to believe in coincidence anymore.

The woman hailed a cab, and climbed into the back seat. As it pulled into traffic, he followed suit, and got on the radio.

“Get Commissioner Gordon,” he said. “Tell him I’ve got a line on the congressman’s kidnapping.”

Selina made it through airport security without a hitch. Her boarding pass in her purse, she walked briskly through the international terminal, trying not to attract the wrong kind of attention.

According to the departures monitor, her flight was on-time and leaving soon. With any luck, she would be an ocean away from Gotham before the day was over.