There was a world outside Gotham, an even more depraved and corrupted world. The type of world that was emptier than the Word of God in the mouth of an unbeliever. It made Bruce's nerves on edge just thinking that there were predators out there preying on little girls. Mostly, it disturbed him that people were indifferent and didn't stop it.
He'd first become attentive of the case of Susie Salmon when he read a page-eight article by Lois Lane in The Daily Planet. It detailed that there was seemingly no pattern to the murders of little girls up and down the Atlantic coast, but that the trail of dead must lead somewhere and that the FBI and other authorities should scour missing persons reports and coordinate with local police departments to triangulate on the killer. Ah Lois, she was so adroit. Clark had truly found a keeper.
This was supposed to be a vacation for Bruce to Metropolis, but there was a deep, dark craving he'd never sated. He wanted to kill.
As Batman, he had a code, and Commissioner Gordon would absolutely destroy him if he crossed the line and became judge, jury, and executioner. So any type of retribution had to be taken as Bruce Wayne, not Batman, outside Gotham. He was going at this like one of those reality TV shows where the guy gets dropped into a jungle for a week and has to survive with little to no gear. Only his wits and willpower.
This was Bruce Wayne's vacation, mind you. A vacation from the hidebound rules of being Batman. For once he just wanted to KILL one of these cockroaches and not put them away in Arkham to only later deal with them again.
So that's what brought him to Norristown, Pennsylvania. Susie Salmon was missing. Bruce disguised himself as best he could so that no-one would recognize him as the "billionaire playboy." He wore black sunglasses, a baseball cap, and a non-descript T-shirt and blue jeans.
With his finely honed detective skills, it didn't take Bruce long to hone in on George Harvey. Bruce had pretended to be a reporter from The Daily Planet and interviewed Susie's father, Jack Salmon. Bruce owned The Daily Planet and had an army of fake reporters on the books to aid him in investigating his quarries. On this occasion Bruce was Marty Mathers. Psychologically, Bruce had discovered that people feel more comfortable spilling their guts to a name that is alliterative.
They met in a coffee shop on main street. "Firstly, I'd like to express my gratitude to you for taking the time to discuss such a delicate issue with me as the disappearance-"
"Murder, you mean," Jack said.
"Do you suppose she was murdered, Mr. Salmon?" Bruce asked.
"Absolutely. And I have a strong suspicion who did it..."
This piqued Bruce's curiosity. A father's rage and emotions could cloud his decision-making, but also there was a certain intuition Bruce respected enough to follow-up.
"Would you give me a name, Jack? May I call you 'Jack'?"
"Most certainly, Marty. I'm just happy you've taken an interest in my daughters...murder. The local law enforcement pay me lip service, but I know that they have given up looking for the bastard who did this. The man I suspect is George Harvey, my neighbor."
"George Harvey," Bruce said as he jotted the name in a memo pad. "Go on."
"Well, he's just a creepy bastard, for one. The guy is a grown-man and he builds dollhouses for a hobby. If the police had any balls, they'd do a sneak-and-peak search of his home to see if there is any evidence implicating him, but it seems that there are more protections for a criminal than there are for a little girl in this country," Jack said.
I, however, can do a sneak-and-peak search, Bruce thought.