Crouched low, eyes fixed on the window four down, three across from her position on the rooftop, she watched for signs of movement.
It had been still for the few moments she had been keeping watch on it, and just wanted to be certain that no landlords, or otherwise would interfere with her investigation. Quickly taking this opportunity to double check her 'case file' on her phone, Stephanie ran over what she knew so far.
Jasmine Lee, age 25, lives alone. No immediate family, co-workers reported her missing Monday after not showing up for work. Kept to herself. No known enemies.
What you always hear when someone goes missing.
Letting out a soft sigh, Steph tucks her phone away and slowly straightens up, rolling her head on her shoulders.

“You're meant to practice the things you're not so good at, right? This case seems simple enough. Shouldn't be anything to mess up. I need to work on investigation. It's a win win, right?”

After a brief pause, when she lines up a shot with the grapple line, firing and swinging across to the other building, slowly lowering herself to the correct window, she mutters.

“Really gotta stop talking to yourself though. Not a good look…”

Gently sliding the winged edge of a batarang under the window jam, she slowly eases it up, before slipping inside, stomach immediately turning at the distinct stench of early decay, faint buzzing not too far to her left. Swallowing hard, she slowly pulled out her phone again, this time to use as a flashlight, pulling her cape to her nose and mouth instinctively, as she swept the beam of light around the room.
There, propped in the corner, very much dead, was a young woman.
Closing her eyes, hanging her head for a moment, Stephanie let out a soft sigh. She had hoped she had just skipped town. Clenching her jaw and taking in a sharp breath, before almost gagging from the smell of carrion, determination set in.
Step one: ID the body.
Sweeping the light around the room again, she looked for some sort of purse, or handbag. Spotting the bag on the coffee table, Steph carefully reached inside, aware to disrupt as little as possible, to look for a driver's licence, a student ID, social security, anything. Pulling a licence out, she confirmed that sadly, it was Jasmine Lee in the corner. Just slightly more, well, dead.
Aware to put it away where she got it from, she returned to Jasmine's side, eyes searching her, for step two.
Cause of death.
After staring at her for a moment, and then looking around the room slowly, Stephanie, not the most well trained in forensics, concluded the cause of death was repeated stab wounds to the upper torso. There were defensive wounds on her arms, which didn't surprise her at all. Standing up, and tracing the blood, she found the first splatter marks started right at the door. She was attacked as she opened the door? They continued all the way back to the corner, where she was forced. Or she tried to retreat to. Where she died. Hanging her head again, Stephanie closes her eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose.
It means whoever attacked her brought the weapon with them. It also means they were someone she would open the door for, right?

“Don't worry, Jasmine. I'll get this sorted. And I'm not gonna leave you here alone again…”

She mumbles softly, returning to the bag, starting to look for a phone, and finding nothing. Taking a look at Jasmine's body, and seeing her pants have pockets, she lets out a soft whine, swaying in place in lieu of stamping her feet, before going over, and rummaging through the poor murdered girls pockets. Finding the phone, Steph sits back on her heels in her crouched position, swipes the screen to life, (luckily with no code) and looks through the messages, call logs, anything, to give her something for step three.
Suspect.
After what felt like forever combing through the messages, and feeling like a right creep, and finding nothing, Steph scowled. Random attacks happen in Gotham all the time, but not in your own home.
She was missing something.
Sliding the phone back into Jasmine's pocket, Steph stopped and sighed, staring at the blood splatter again, willing it to give her answers.
There was something Bruce said once, during her training as Robin about blood splatter and paying attention, and right now she couldn't remember it for the life of her.

“C'mon, Steph, think. Focus. What aren't you seeing?”

She hisses at herself, passing the light over the dark stains on the ground. Large dark smears, streaks from being walked though, small quick drips.

waitaminute

Small quick drips?
Narrowing in on these, she realises they start in the middle of the room, and go towards the door, but aren't near the body. Acting on a hunch, she moves to the door or the apartment, listens intently for a few moments, then quickly opens the door, to see that the small quick drips continue out into the hallway.
Shutting the door with a soft click, Steph has her suspect. No connection needed to the victim, ability to force way into apartment. Stephanie knows first hand how dangerous he can be.
Victor Zsasz.

“Well… sh*t. Now what. I never thought I'd get this far…”

Returning to crouching by Jasmine's body, she couldn't help but to think for a second that if things had gone differently, they would both be scores on that maniacs flesh.

SLAM. CRASH.

The door flung open, with force. Steph's head snapping around to look, as two uniformed GCPD officers enter, guns drawn.

“FREEZE! HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!”

Steph grimaces from her position next to the body, in the middle of a crime scene that has yet to be reported.

“Uhh. I can explain?”