Just Breathe

Chapter 16

Bruce clicked 'play' on the next video and watched the Kane party from yet another angle. He was methodically working his way through all of the security footage from that night - obtained by Alfred via the network of butlers and service staff that apparently operated beneath the noses of Gotham's elites. The older man had returned to Wayne Tower a few hours ago clutching a USB drive filled with video, and the two of them had been watching the footage ever since, taking note of each and every person in attendance, as well as who they interacted with, and when they left the mansion.

Beth's kidnapping had been a crime of opportunity. And the only ones with opportunity had been the people present that night.

Not Patrick Newsome.

Bruce had focused on him because he'd seemed the logical culprit - he'd been the evil hanging over their heads for weeks, after all. But in the end, Newsome had been nothing but a pawn. There was someone far more dangerous out there.

And whoever that was - whoever had taken Beth and staged her death - they were on this footage.

"He's watching her again," Bruce muttered, freezing the frame on the grey-haired man.

"Who?" Alfred asked, pausing his own recording.

"The man who spoke to Beth at the bar," Bruce responded, checking through his notes. "On video 3, he catches sight of her when she enters the party. Seconds later he's at the bar talking to her. He watches as she walks away, and then on video 5 he's in the background when she's talking to Connell, observing the two of them. And now on this footage, he's watching her again."

"While she's dancing with you."

Bruce was trying to ignore that part of the video. But he couldn't seem to stop his eyes from flickering to the two figures on the dance floor, as they swayed to the music, locked in an intimate embrace. Beth's face was to the camera, and he could just about make out the small smile on her face and the movement of her fingers as they played with the long strands of his hair.

He hadn't noticed that at the time - he'd been too engrossed in the feel of finally having her in his arms, in the emotions swirling through him.

Bruce felt like he was looking at a different version of himself - from a time long in the past, rather than just a couple of days ago. So much had happened since then. He'd been wrecked by fear and desperation while searching for Beth; and he'd plummeted to the depths of grief and despair upon finding that body in the cabin.

Right now he felt strangely numb. As if the pain of loss was merely lying dormant, waiting to engulf him again and drag him under.

Because he couldn't quite bring himself to hope that she was still alive.

He believed Alfred that the body in the fire had never been her. The X-rays had proven it. But all that meant was that she was still missing. Had been missing for almost 2 days now...and that didn't bode well.

For the thousandth time since Alfred had woken him this morning, Bruce cursed himself for giving up the search so easily.

It had so obviously been a set-up...and Bruce had fallen for it completely. Brought low by the agony of grief and the sleep-deprived, frantic, 24-hour search which had preceded it, he'd accepted the reality he was presented with.

It was like a self-fulfilling prophesy - he'd always expected things to end badly with Beth, so he hadn't questioned the worst when it actually happened.

He could never thank Alfred enough for seeing the truth when he'd been blinded to it.

The man in question interrupted his self-castigation. "Where does he go when you and Beth leave the room?"