Over twenty-four hours had passed, and yet Officer Bard was still nowhere to be found. The GCPD had searched his apartment but turned up nothing that would lead them to his current whereabouts. No bank statements, no letters, no suspicious packages. Nothing. It was as if the officer had vanished with the evening fog.

Not even the patrol car he had been driving had turned up under a bridge somewhere with its windows smashed to pieces and the inside looted down to its bare bones. In a city like Gotham, that was most unusual.

As far as Barbara knew, the Isley mansion had also been searched because of the report made about a "suspicious smell." Turned out that it was because of a skinned deer left in the bathtub. The GCPD had written it off as the work of some delinquents or a deranged hobo that had taken refuge in the mansion.

But Barbara knew better. From what she could squeeze out of her dad, the deer had been skinned only recently, probably the same day it was found. What she had smelled had been rotting in that tub much longer.

So the investigation shifted away from the mansion and to any ties between the mob and Officer Bard. Of course, it was all bullshit. Jason was arguably the cleanest cop on the force, something that couldn't be said for the rest of them. The GCPD was wasting their time, trying to find any dirt on him. They'd be lucky if they found even a speck.

Seeing that the GCPD wasn't going to investigate the mansion any further, Barbara decided it was up to her now. She had vowed she wouldn't let Jason's disappearance go unsolved, and she intended to keep that promise.

Somehow, she had convinced her dad to let her go to the library, promising she would only go there for work. She had appealed to his predictable nature, knowing he would hate for her to be lounging around at home like a bum. Ever the believer in hard work and discipline, he had allowed her to go.

But not without ensuring he would make periodic calls to the library.

"She really has you whipped, Dad," Barbara muttered as she rolled between the large stacks of books. Hoping to find something-anything-that would lead back to the mansion, Barbara thought it would be best to start with the Isley family themselves. And what better way to start than with The Five Founding Families of Gotham?

With the calling card she had gotten from Mrs. Kringle clutched in her hand, she scanned each row of the worn, faded spines until her eyes spotted the title she had been looking for.

Pulling the book out, she blew over its dust-coated cover until the title engraved in blood-red letters could be read at the front. The book was much thicker than she expected because honestly, who would have thought there'd be this much information on a couple of spoiled snobs?

Unable to continue balancing the book in one hand, Barbara was forced to place it on her lap and read from there.

"My God," she groaned as she felt its weight press down on her thighs. This thing really was heavy. "What else did these people do besides squabble with each other and get drunk at parties?"

She was careful not to tear the crinkled yellow pages as she flipped through them towards the table of contents. Using her finger, Barbara skimmed through each name that served as a chapter title. Wayne. Elliot. Kane. St. Cloud.

"Isley." Barbara smiled to herself as she read the last heading out loud. Quickly turning to the end of the book, her eyes immediately started searching for the mention of a "Pamela." She skimmed through the self-indulgent ramblings that traced the Isley lineage from the beginning, not having to look far before her eyes came to an abrupt stop. As did the rest of the chapter.

Pamela Lillian Isley, the only child of Marc and Rose Isley, was born May 2nd, 1902. Being a beautiful and affluent woman, she was expected to marry the renowned doctor, Thomas Wayne. Their engagement had been arranged by both families but was suddenly retracted by Thomas after a scandal came to light. Embarrassed by both the scandal and break-up, the Isleys quickly married their daughter off to a celebrated professor and botanist, Jason Woodrue, in 1930. Shortly after, the couple moved to Seattle, Washington, where Professor Woodrue was conducting research at the University of Washington. Two years later, a mysterious fire broke out in Marc and Rose's bedroom and they were tragically killed. Nothing else was heard on Pamela and her husband, and it is assumed they remained in Seattle for the remainder of their lives.

Stiff pages rustled against her fingertips as she slowly shut the book closed. She released a deep breath, not realizing she had been holding it in this entire time.

Could it be? Was it possible? A part of Barbara-the logical and realistic part of her-didn't want to believe it. So what if this Pamela Isley had the same name? So what if the dates matched up with the portrait? It didn't mean anything. It could all be some strange coincidence.

It could be a relative, just like Pamela said.

For some reason, Barbara wasn't buying that. It might be her sixth sense going off, but she knew something was rotten in the state of Gotham.

But what exactly? Barbara didn't know, but she intended to find out. Whatever secrets that mansion held, Barbara would uncover them. Whatever Pamela was trying to hide about her family, she would bring to light.

There was a lot to unpack in that short paragraph on the Isleys. Lucky for her, she had the entire day.

Tucking the book by her hip, she started back for the circulation desk, her heart thumping against her chest. Whether it was from anticipation or something else, Barbara couldn't tell. All she knew was that for the first time since she arrived back in the city, she couldn't wait to get back home.

**

It was barely evening by the time Barbara had left the library, but outside it looked like the middle of the night. Already the sky had turned an inky black so that not even a single star could be seen from behind the haze of gray clouds. But even if these clouds were to disappear, the blue light emitting from the skyline would still eclipse them. Not even Gotham's night sky was spared from the pollution that plagued both its air and land.

It was a lonely journey back home. The orange glow of the streetlamps was Barbara's only companion as she rolled through the slick city streets. If she wasn't so preoccupied with the book in her bag, she would have surely been a little more on edge. This was Gotham, after all, and muggings were a regular thing here. Just look at what happened to the Waynes.

But for Barbara, the only danger she feared was coming home to find only Pamela waiting there for her. Not the potential muggers, not the killers or rapists lurking in the shadows, but Pamela Isley.

With each inch she covered, the more her heart started to race. When she turned the corner onto her street, she was sure it was about to burst out of her ribcage.

Thankfully, it didn't, and she lived long enough to see her dad's black Chevy parked in the driveway. Maybe the universe was granting her some kindness for once. Maybe things would finally go right for once.

Not wanting to jinx it, Barbara took a deep breath to compose herself before rolling into the house.

"I'm home!" She let the door shut with a slam.

"Hey, honey." James entered the hall, a glass of whiskey in his hand. "How was work?"

Barbara shrugged. "Slow, nothing much happened besides answering questions and shelving books. But I did find something pretty interesting." She lifted the book into her hands before flipping to the dog-eared page. "Check this out. It's about the Isley family."

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't just start going off about her suspicions. She had to play this smart or else risk being shut down like last time.

"Oh, what about them?" James raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, what about them?" Pamela appeared from the kitchen, clad in a dark green dress that looked too fancy for someone who stayed at home all day.

"I think I found the relative you were talking about." Barbara held the book up for them to see. "This must be who was in the portrait."

Pressing her lips together, Pamela glanced down and skimmed the passage Barbara's finger was pointed at. "Oh, yes. That would be my grandmother."

"The resemblance is uncanny," Barbara remarked, not failing to notice the glower in Pamela's eyes. "You two even share the same name, which is strange since wouldn't you have taken your father's last name?"

There was no mistaking the deep scowl on Pamela's face now. "My mother never married my father. And my grandmother wanted her to keep the family name instead of her husband's." She let out a sigh. "It was not a very happy marriage from what I was told."

She was convincing, Barbara would give her that much. But she had gotten under Pamela's skin as well, making the woman squirm with her seemingly innocuous questions. "Well, looks like this book will need to be updated." Barbara snapped the cover shut.

"I didn't realize my family was so interesting to you, Barbara." Pamela's scowling lips turned into a chilling smile. "I'm flattered though."

Oh, brother. If she didn't have the willpower to resist rolling her eyes, then she'd be staring at the inside of her skull right now. But before Barbara could open her mouth and say something she would later regret, fate intervened once again with a soft knock at the door.

"Don't worry, I'll get it." James gently pushed Barbara out of the way before opening the door. "Uh, can I help you?"

"I'm here for the caregiver position," a familiar voice said.

Whirling her chair around, Barbara peered into the darkness outside and saw a pair of blue eyes hovering within it.

"The what?" The door creaked as James started to shut it. "I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong house."

The eyes flickered to Barbara, boring into her as their owner continued talking. "Your daughter talked to Mr. Wayne, my father, and he said he would recommend her someone. And well, here I am." The figure stepped forward into the light, but never crossed the threshold. "So can I come in?"

No longer wearing his oversized trench coat or baseball cap, Richard proved he actually had style with his faded denim jacket and pair of blue jeans to match. Continuing to stare at her, Richard shot her a wink, almost as if he were telling her this was all going to be alright.

"Absolutely not!" Pamela suddenly stepped in between them. "You must be out of your mind if you think we would hire a child!"

"I'm actually nineteen." Richard grinned.

"I don't care!" Gone was the elegant and poised Pamela, now screeching like a banshee and looking on the verge of a panic attack. "What possible qualifications could he have?"

"Funny you should ask." Richard cleared his throat before pulling out a manilla folder from the messenger bag strapped across his shoulder. "But just this year, I became certified as you can see." He handed the folder to James.

"Hmm." James studied the certificate before giving it back to the teen. "Well-"

"Dad, it's true!" Barbara interrupted after realizing the opportunity that had come quite literally knocking at her door. Pamela seemed adamant about not wanting him here, which was good enough of a reason to keep him. That age-old proverb was right. The enemy of her enemy was her friend, right? "Bruce Wayne did tell me he would send someone over. And even Dr. Elliot suggested I should have a caregiver."

Okay, that last part was a lie. He had actually said a "home therapist" but her father didn't need to know that.

"Darling." Pamela cupped James's cheek with her hand. "You have to see how ridiculous this is. He can't possibly be qualified to handle someone like Barbara."

"I think he would be perfect to handle someone like me. Don't I get a say?" Barbara pouted. Pamela might be prettier than Barbara, but she wasn't the only one who could get James to do what she wanted. Especially not when she brought out the puppy dog eyes.

"Well, I can call up Bruce and ask him about all this. Just to make sure it really is all right with him." James quickly exited the foyer, allowing a tense silence to enter as they waited for his return.

Barbara had never seen Pamela so flustered before, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it. It was good to know there was at least someone out there who could rattle her. Even if it was a teenage boy.

As for Richard, Barbara had no idea why he was here. Sure, he had said why, but how did he even know to come? And at this exact moment? This wasn't the first time he had done this, so what was he up to? Just thinking about all of this on top of the ongoing Isley mystery was starting to make her head hurt.

Each second James didn't return only filled the air with more tension. Pamela kept clenching her nails into the palms of her hands, never once taking her eyes off Richard. Meanwhile, Richard hummed a happy tune as he bounced on the balls of his feet. The contrast between the two couldn't have been starker.

"Well, it looks like everything's good with Bruce." James rubbed his hands together as he strode towards them. "He did send Richard because he thought he'd not only be a good caregiver for Barbara but also a good friend since they're around the same age."

A pleased smile rested on Richard's face. "I'm glad to hear that."

"So, Richard." James pulled the door back to its full width. "Would you like to come in?"