Luvit: InvisibleBrunette and I are very, very glad you like our fic. We hope we still got your interest until the end chapter :)
Dick decided to leave off the trail at around three in the morning.
As much as he wanted to keep going, Batman and Robin weren't supposed to be out in broad daylight, and any more attention to the Pierce's brothers trail would make them all the more eager to leave town. Or, it could make them all the more eager to stay and challenge the Dark Knight.
As she promised, Babs was still at home when Dick and Damian got back. But instead of the penthouse, Dick found her still in the Bunker, engrossed in her research.
He pulled the cowl back and ran a hand through his matted hair. "Babs?"
"I've almost got him," she muttered without turning away from the screen.
"Who? Pierce?"
"Yes." She hissed. "He has several companies that look legit to the auditors but not to the eyes of Oracle."
He stepped closer to look at the monitors. "What do you have?"
"His income and expenses match up in the books. But I didn't want to believe that, so I hacked into his suppliers' books. No match."
"So he's been doctoring his own books? IRS wouldn't like that."
"IRS is too busy combing through the multinationals and big name celebrities, the Pierces just slip through the cracks." She spat. "Tax dollars at work."
"At least now we've got him." Dick said with a hesitant smile. When Babs got worked up on a case, she'd often lash out at whoever was close. And right now, he didn't want to be the recipient of that abuse, not when they'd almost patched up their latest fight.
As if hearing his thoughts, Babs took a deep breath and let it out slowly, rubbing her eyes as she carefully turned to face him. "Dick. You're thinking about Dusty, aren't you?"
Dick nodded slowly, expression still guarded.
"I am, too." Babs sighed again. "I'm thinking about how unfair it would be to blame him for being born, or for being your son."
"Babs, I'm sorry-"
She held up a hand, halting his half-formed apology. Dick didn't even know what he was going to apologize for.
"Look, you and I, we're still going to argue. I still don't see us being...well, 'us.' But for Dusty's sake..."
"I'm not looking for a mother for him." Dick interrupted. "I just need..."
"Need what? Dick, I won't be a nanny and I outgrew babysitting for a decade. What do you want me to be?"
"I...er...how about..." he grinned sheepishly, "Auntie Babs?"
Babs snorted in disbelief. But he kept grinning at her until she relented. "Fine. I'll be Aunt Barbara. Now if you'll excuse me," she turned her chair towards the Crays and started typing. "I have a pair of criminals to catch and you have some people you need to talk to."
He sighed and left her to her work knowing that once again, their relationship took second place after the job. But that wasn't fair of him; he'd had the same priorities ever since he was nine. So he shoved that line of thinking out of his head in favor of more pressing matters.
He still needed to call Tim.
"Batman to Red Robin. Do you read?" Dick asked, one hand pressed to the ear with his comm., the other having been turned into an object of Dusty's amusement. The baby sat propped up against his father, happily pulling and playing with Dick's fingers. He had gone into Dusty's room without changing into civvies and found the baby awake.
Dusty grinned at him, tiny arms eagerly reaching out. Dick grinned back and quickly scooped him up into a sitting position but the baby didn't want to relinquish his hands anytime soon. And so Dick found himself reaching for the cowl's earpiece instead of the phone as he had planned.
When Red Robin's answer came, it was a terse, "I read you Batman. What do you want?"
Dick inwardly winced at the reminder that he and his brother still hadn't patched things up. But he kept his tone blank and businesslike. "I have a favor to ask. It's case related."
"I'm listening."
"I need you to look up someone for me."
Trish Egdwood's apartment was very well-kept, Red Robin noticed as he slipped inside through the window. It was also quite spacious. It could easily have had a family of five living there and still have plenty of room. The main living room sported a modern chic look, with glass top tables, and black leather couches with metal framing; all standing on light colored hardwood flooring. The handful of paintings were of tasteful abstracts that detracted from the bare, neutral papered walls.
There weren't many picture frames though, maybe three or four maximum. And all were of her and Cheyenne. Either the assistant didn't have family, or she hadn't kept in touch with them. That in itself would considerably lessen the amount of people who would miss her if she suddenly disappeared.
Tim had checked the security cameras; finding out that Trish's car was still in the carport and had not moved since she came home a week earlier. She also had not re-emerged from her apartment since then either.
Both pieces fit the alibi given - that she was sick with the flu - but it didn't sit well with Batman or Red Robin. Tim had setup his own surveillance and watched the apartment since last night. It was possible that Trish was only sleeping, as most would be in the throes of sickness, but it didn't seem right.
There were no lights; from a lamp, her television, or even the fluorescent bulbs overhead. And thanks to the equipment he had set up, he knew that here had been no movement what-so-ever during the day as well. Things were definitely not adding up, and it was making the vigilante seriously doubt the story Cheyenne Freemont had given his older brother.
Red Robin moved silently to the front door. The chain and deadbolt were locked from the inside. No sign of anyone trying to force it open. Under the cowl, the teen's brows knitted. Trish was here. But the silence the dwelling gave off said otherwise. No flickering light bulbs, no squeaking bed springs to indicate shifting, no nothing.
Something wasn't right.
He cautiously checked the apartment's four rooms, leaving the main bedroom for last. It would fit that the assistant would stay in the main bedroom majority of the time she spent in her apartment, but Tim didn't want to leave any surprises behind his back.
The other rooms were empty of residents, though the decor was similarly chic and minimalist. Tim noticed every room had thick curtains that blocked out light coming from outside, and that the window glass were thickened to prevent noise coming in. Trish Edgwood valued her privacy a lot.
Finally, he was standing by the shut bedroom door. Well, there was no help for it, he had to check the main bedroom if he hoped to solve this puzzle. He reached out a hand to gently twist the knob.
His nose twitched as he caught a whiff of something foul - something that reminded him of...
He kicked the door open, unleashing the foul odor he'd smelled. Tim fell back, clutching a hand to his nose before he remembered to slap on a rebreather. The smell was unmistakable. Trish Edgwood was dead.