Flight, a novel

To: Edrith…for beating me there.

Part One: Flight from Rage

Chapter One

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Greenwich Village, New York

Lights from the eighth floor apartment shone bright amid the darkened windows of the neighboring flats. The hour was late, and as many of the building's inhabitants had retired to sleep, the fourth apartment to the right glowed against the remaining haze of city lights.

Olivia Benson stood inside the small bedroom of Apartment 84, separating her laundry into whites, darks and those in-between. The dark-haired woman worked quickly, knowing that every moment of her time was precious. Large, dark brown eyes darted about the room searching for any errant articles of clothing and spotted the bottom half of a dark blue uniform that had escaped her laundry hamper.

She picked up the navy pants and tossed them into her dark pile with a smirk on her face. The pants were part of a complete police officer's uniform, though she had purchased them with a completely different purpose in mind. Olivia had been a plain-clothes, New York City detective for nearly a decade, and the idea of having to wear a uniform was more than abhorrent to her, however, she had bought an additional one that fit just a size too small. Olivia had no intentions of wearing the tight uniform in front of the other detectives in her unit; it was meant solely for the man she had been seeing for close to two years.

Jonathan Halloway had relished the idea of Olivia playing "dress-up" for him and for once, she did not mind the game. Her case load had been higher than ever; each one more upsetting, more heart-breaking and more devastating and she had needed something to take her mind off her work, if even for one night.

Olivia was a detective in Manhattan's Special Victims Unit and all her cases dealt with the violent scourge of humanity. Child molestations, rapes, rape-homicides, child sexual abuses and any type of sexual crime that a human could imagine. She had not seen it all, but she had seen far more than she would have liked. Even the strongest and most stable of New York detectives only lasted two years in the SVU; Olivia had been there for more than eight.

Having finished her clothing separation, she gathered her whites into the blue, plastic laundry basket, picked up her keys and made her way to the laundry rooms in the basement of her building. Olivia cleared the doorway, when she caught sight of tall, dark, black man folding his own clothes by the set of dryers along the far side of the wall. He wore a white wife-beater and a pair of navy basketball shorts, showing off large muscles on both his arms and legs. A smirk spread across Olivia's face as she quietly set down her basket.

"Bringing out the old wife-beater, eh?" Olivia said setting her clothes on the nearby machine.

"Yeah," he said, with a scoff. "You gotta problem with it?"

His voice held the long, Southern twang of a Houston native and always brought a smile to her face. Olivia had met Adam Jackson the day he moved into the apartment two floors above Olivia, and although they had respective significant others, they had developed a flirtatious, but benign friendship in the years thereafter.

"Well," Olivia said with a hint of arrogance in her voice. "I think it might be a little inappropriate...even for the laundry room."

"What would you like me to do?" he said matching Olivia's arrogance with his own voice. "Take it off?"

"Maybe...you can do what you want." Olivia winked at him and they exchanged glorious, pearly smiles.

“‘Spose I could," Adam said slyly. "It is, after all, laundry night."

He slowly pulled off his shirt, allowing Olivia to stare at his bare chest for a moment.

"It’s a Thursday,” Olivia said. “Shouldn't you be out clubbing with two or three ladies on each arm?”

“That’s for Friday,” Adam said raising his eyebrows at her. “Tonight’s just for you, babe.”

Olivia laughed and they went about their respective business silently. Adam gathered the rest of his clothes and gave Olivia a little pinch on her side as he left the room. She let out a girlish shriek and watched him walk away as he added an extra swagger to his step for her enjoyment.

Setting her own load in the laundry, Olivia returned to her apartment and organized the files on her desk. Flirting with Adam in the laundry room was one of the few moments of "fun" she had throughout her week of dealing with the city’s lowest criminals. Her eyes fell upon the framed image of herself and Jonathan, and she allowed a smile to play across her face.

Jonathan was the youngest son of New York's Halloway family, one of the older and wealthier families in the city, with a long list of political connections and a history of destroying the "common man" to further their own interests. Instead of falling into the family business of buying, selling and splitting apart corporations, Jonathan became a corporate attorney and built his own fortune without the help of his affluent relations. He was considered the black sheep of the family, going into his own business and dating women with whom he could hold a conversation and actually fall in love, instead of the uptight, well-to-do women the men of his family often married. Most of the time, he was subtle and only those closest to him would know the amount of family money that stood at his disposal.

Set up by her friends Jillian Harfort and Sarah Hyman, Olivia had been duped into a blind date with the “lesser known” Halloway two years earlier. She had no idea who he was when she first had dinner with him and he had refused to divulge his last name for the first three days they had known one another. It was not until Jonathan saw in Olivia someone he could trust and someone he was sure was not looking for a wealthy husband to solve her problems that he let on about his family. After the initial shock wore off, they settled into a relationship that flourished mostly because they both worked long hours and varied times. The little time they did have for one another was meant for the simple things and, unlike past boyfriends, Jonathan never once asserted the idea that Olivia should find different employment. He respected what she did and she respected his ability to remove himself from his family.

Each time a difficult case would come to her, Olivia had the need to push him away, an act that strained their relationship more often than not. When her partner, Elliot, had been shot a year earlier, Olivia had refocused all of her attention onto him, much to Jonathan's disdain, and that had erupted into a month-long argument, complete with yelling and insults. In the end, however, Jonathan would always apologize for being smug or rude, regardless of whether he was, and they would continue as if nothing had happened. Most recently, Olivia jumped on the opportunity to work with the federal government as an undercover agent without telling anyone important in her life. In her own line of personal importance, Jonathan, unfortunately, came third, and it was only upon her return three months ago, that she realized that Jonathan had been completely left out of the information loop. He was furious when she finally contacted him, but as usual, he apologized without knowing why he had and they fell back into a routine.

As the weeks turned into months, Olivia saw herself falling in love with Jonathan. In May of 2007, she would be turning the big 3-8, and with every relationship that ended, Olivia felt she was one moment closer to spending the rest of her life alone. It was not that she felt the need to settle at this point in her life, but her biological clock was loudly ticking and with each passing day, she felt her remaining youth fade a bit more. At thirty-seven, she was still single and childless, though she was not sure whether or not she wanted to remain such. Her own alcoholic mother had not been much of an example, and most men were either turned off by her line of work or turned on in a way she would just as soon not relate.

Then there was also the question of never knowing what she might pass onto to potential children. Olivia never knew her father, as he was the man who had raped her mother, and the fear that she would impart his violent genes onto her own children was ever present. Many of those in her life questioned her choice of volunteering to work in the SVU given her history, but she knew she was doing the right thing. Who better to assist rape victims through their difficult time than someone completely involved in said situation?

The muffled sound of a police siren bellowed outside her apartment and Olivia sighed as she glanced toward her window. She pulled a file from her newly organized stack, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, and studied the cover for a moment, hoping for inspiration on the case. Someone was murdering children; not really out of the norm in her line of work, but the case managed to flip her stomach more than usual. A vague image of Elliot came to mind as she thought about how he must be internally dealing with the case, having a son just the victim's age. Whenever Olivia heard of some tragedy happening to children, she immediately considered the only children with whom she had constant contact: Elliot's. She knew, although he would never voice his reservations to her, anytime a case dealt with children, and a fair amount of their cases did, Elliot would automatically think of his own.

Jacob Lewendale had just celebrated his Bar Mitzvah when he was found three days later stuffed into a cardboard box, sodomized and strangled to death. The frightened expression etched on his face was what struck Olivia most. Jacob had lived on the Upper West Side, yet had been found miles away in Tompkins Square Park, and he had not been missing for more than twenty-four hours when he was found. His parents had not even filed a Missing Persons report yet. The only reason they were able to identify him was that an officer at the scene was a friend of the Lewendales and recognized Jacob instantly. The last time anyone had seen him was when he was talking to a dark-haired man in a truck, but there were no other leads to follow.

Olivia opened the file and stared at the large image of the thirteen-year-old boy paper-clipped to the manila folder. Jacob’s face was still round and youthful, but a brush of acne appeared to have erupted in small, red blotches on his forehead and chin. Large blue eyes offset by light brown hair gave anyone who viewed his seventh grade yearbook photo the instant feeling that Jacob had enjoyed a normal, happy childhood and would have gone on to lead a normal adolescence had his life not been cut short just five days earlier.

The yearbook photo varied greatly from that of the crime scene photo paper-clipped opposite the class picture. Jacob’s naturally tan skin had lost all vestiges of colour, appearing grey though the image was not, yet red marks still marred the skin around his neck in the shape of something that had been long and thin. The box in which he had been found was no bigger than a standard moving box and was sold at retailers across the city. In the top photo, Jacob had been folded, nude, inside the box, smears of blood along the inner sides appearing as if the murderer who had set him there was too hasty to get rid of the body to wash his hands first.

The Lewendales had no enemies, no large debts and no real problems. No one could understand how someone could hurt Jacob in such a way and it was all Olivia could do to stifle a somber sob when the memory of Deborah Lewendale’s wail upon learning that her son had been murdered came to mind.

She flipped through some of the notes on the case and, in her head, remade the list she and her partner had created days earlier regarding the killer: possibly a friend of the family, possibly a complete stranger, possibly a garden-variety pedophile, possibly a hate crime against Jews. She had seen enough rape-homicide cases to lean toward the idea of the pedophile, but she also knew that sociopath murderers often had a way of thwarting her even most basic instincts.

Olivia pulled a second folder from her pile: rape victim, Evelyn Rivers, her newest case. She had spent the majority of the day staying with Evelyn throughout the lengthy process of a hospital rape kit and then the near ritual of obtaining a statement and simply comforting her. Even after all that had happened with the case, Olivia could do nothing to make Evelyn file charges against the abusive boyfriend who had raped her and left her to bleed to death in their apartment.

“Are you sure you don’t want to file charges, Evelyn?” Olivia had said.

Evelyn Rivers shook her head quickly, straight black hair falling into her eyes. “No,” she breathed. “I-I…I can’t. He’ll come after me.”

“Not if he’s serving time at Rikers,” Olivia had said.

“But he’ll get out eventually…and then he’ll come for me.” Evelyn brushed a tear from her grey eyes. “I can’t live like that, Olivia…I just can’t. B-Besides…he’s said he’s changed. He promised he wouldn’t do it again.”

Olivia sighed. Micah Diorel was no different from any of the other perps she had seen abuse and rape their girlfriends, and like so many of these victims, Evelyn was falling into the trap of thinking the apology she had received was for real. Olivia knew all too well that no matter what they said, they always did it again.

“Evelyn,” she had said. “Micah beat and raped you and if your neighbors hadn’t heard the commotion, you would have died in your apartment. Do you really think he means it when he says he’s sorry?”

“Maybe…,” Evelyn had said giving a long shrug. “But…I don’t know. I think he was really just having a bad day. But, it doesn’t really matter because I can’t talk against him. He’ll kill me. I know he will.”

“I wish you would change your mind,” Olivia had said shaking her head.

“He said he was sorry,” Evelyn said with a little more backbone in her voice. “I was the one who screwed up and he just reacted. I’m not going to press charges against him, when I know he didn’t really mean it.”

There was a finality to Evelyn’s statement that had made Olivia’s heart ache. Evelyn was just part of the vicious cycle that probably wouldn’t end until her boyfriend murdered her.

Olivia made a mental note to stop by Evelyn’s apartment on Saturday to make sure that she was not only okay, but that Micah Diorel saw that the police were watching Evelyn very carefully. Sometimes it helped; many times it did not, but she had to try.

She changed her laundry load and returned to her desk to organize the rest of her notes. She came across her planner and opened it to Saturday with a bemused expression on her face. Regardless of the amount of planning she put into any event, the job always came in the way. She kept buying pages for her leather-bound planner because it seemed like something she ought to have, but she rarely wrote in it, knowing how quickly her schedule was likely to change in just a few hours. Six days ago she had been planning a winter getaway with Jonathan at one of his family’s cabins out in the country, but Jacob Lewendale’s murderer had halted her plans.

Olivia flipped to the address book in the back of the planner and made a second note to call Sarah to see if she was available for dinner. She rarely got to see her as Sarah had three children and her own career to chase after and even though they had been close while at Siena College, they were more or less acquaintances at this point in their lives.

She glanced over the Lewendale file once more and rose to pour herself a glass of cranberry juice from the refrigerator. The phone that hung on the wall near her refrigerator rang once and she picked it up absent-mindedly.

“Hello?”

“He’s leaving his wife!”

Olivia paused a moment, unsure if she understood what had just been shouted at her through the telephone.

“Maya?” she said.

“Livia! He says he wants to leave his wife!”

She glanced at the clock on her microwave and sighed. Maya Shah had been a part of Olivia’s life since before she could remember. They had gone to college together and unlike her dwindling friendships with Jillian and Sarah, Maya remained her best friend, just as she had been throughout her life. Maya had been the first person Olivia had called on her return from Oregon, and one of the things she missed most while undercover was the sordid details of Maya’s numerous affairs. Their lengthy friendship notwithstanding, Olivia sometimes felt the antics of her Indian friend almost irritating.

At thirty-seven, Maya still lived off of her parent’s money and held no qualms about the fact. She had gone to law school and had even passed the bar exam, but did little to acquire clients for her practice, preferring instead to date an Indian doctor who was willing to dote upon her, as well as several others at the same time. Her newest fling, a Mason Garriston, had been a pain in Olivia’s side for the past year as he was always the foremost topic on Maya’s mind, and while she was always laden with work and she found the entire situation more than ridiculous, the sparkle had yet to fade from the story. Olivia was always ready and willing to dispense advice to her scatter-brained friend.

“What makes you think he wants to leave his wife?”

Maya made a disgusted sound into the phone. “Because he just left my apartment saying that he wanted to leave his wife and be with me all the time.”

“He’s got kids,” Olivia said sitting on her couch.

“I know! The way he says it, he acts like he want to marry me or something…and I just wanted him for the sex.”

“Honestly, Maya. I don’t think you have much to worry about.”

“Why’s that?”

“These guys never leave their wives. You know that. Did any of the others leave their wives?”

“No, but this is different. He says he’s so unhappy with his wife and he’s just a little too interested in the Hindi language and India, in general.”

“And what,” Olivia laughed. “You don’t want any light brown kids running around?”

“Don’t be a bitch,” Maya said laughing as well. “I don’t want any kids in any shade of brown and I sure as hell don’t want to marry him.”

“Well, you know what you can do?”

“What?”

“Break up with him and stop cheating on Amit!”

“Olivia! Come on. I’m serious.”

“So am I. How long do you really plan on keeping this up? Amit’s been dropping hints that he wants to marry you for ages now.”

“Exactly. How long’s he going to drop hints before actually doing something?”

“So, what? Are you actually going to stop seeing other people if Amit proposes?”

Olivia was met with silence on the other end of the phone for a moment. “Yeah…Yes. Yes, I will.”

“Good because he asked me if I knew what your ring size was a week ago.”

“Olivia, don’t be a bitch. Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. Break up with Mason.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Maya said. “Oh shit!”

“What?” Olivia said worried that something had happened to her friend.

“Mason just popped up on my Caller ID.”

“Break. Up. With. Him. Marry your Indian doctor and live happily ever after.”

“Okay, I know. You’re right…but, Livia…?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t really think Mason’ll leave his wife, do you?”

Olivia rolled her eyes and sighed into the phone. “Maya, śubha rātri.”

“Yeah, good night yourself, Livia.”

As soon as Olivia had set down her telephone, there was a knock at her door.

“Who is it?” she asked with the door still closed.

“It’s Mark.”

She hesitated for a moment before opening the door. She was about to simply lie and say that she was about to go to bed to avoid seeing her neighbor across the hall, but she thought better of it. Mark Landon had often alerted her to odd things happening in the building and he had the aggravating, but helpful habit of taking it upon himself to look out for her well being, regardless of how many times she informed him that she could take care of herself. Standing at just over five feet tall, Mark was nearly a foot shorter than Olivia, but she was always amused by his willingness to offer himself as her “protector” time and time again.

“Hi,” she said just barely opening the door.

“Hey!” he said far too enthusiastically for the late hour. “I…uh…thought I heard you struggling with some laundry earlier. Do you have another load to do, ‘cause I’m going down in a sec?”

“Thanks, Mark,” she said with a smirk, “but I think I can handle washing my own clothes.”

“Okay,” he said. “Just thought I’d ask, ‘cause you never know who’s wandering ‘round the building at night, ‘specially since that big, black guy moved in. God knows who he’s been letting in.”

Olivia stared at Mark with a blank expression for a moment. What fascinated her most about bigots was their assumption that all those around them shared their same beliefs. For all of Mark’s many endeavors to win her few affections, his assumptions about her life always killed any thought she could gather about even having dinner with him.

“Adam’s a good guy,” she said.

“Yeah, but I saw him on the elevators wearing just a pair of shorts. No shirt. Do we really need that in our building?”

Olivia attempted to hide a smile. “He was probably coming from the laundry room and it’s late. Who cares?”

“I do. It’s not right. I don’t like him.”

She sighed. “Mark…it’s late. Is there anything else you wanted?”

“No,” he said caught off guard by her sudden change of topic. “Just wanted to know if you needed anything…”

“I’m fine and even if I wasn’t, I’m not about to let you do my laundry for me.”

“Well…y-you know, I know you’re busy, so I just thought I’d ask.”

“Thanks,” she said, not meaning the words. “Good night.”

She shut the door on the little man and gathered the remaining files from her desk and into her bag. She wanted to make as much of Friday as she could and the best way to do such was to ensure that she was organized.

Fridays typically meant that lab results would come back to the unit far slower and witnesses would be far less willing to cooperate, wanting instead to get their respective weekends started quicker. Olivia could barely remember the last time she had a weekend to herself, constantly bogged down by one case or another. On occasion, she would take a personal day just to allow her mind some time to relax before she dove back into the sexual deviants with whom she daily contended.

She took another moment to tidy her apartment a bit more, pausing briefly over the old cello that leaned in the corner of the living room. She longed for the days when she could sit and play for hours just because the moment had moved her, but as always, work came first. She had once played the violin, which sat in the Hope chest she used as a coffee table, for a younger rape victim who had been hospitalized for several weeks to entertain her for a bit and keep her spirits high. The little girl, Amarie was her name, at seven years old, had enjoyed Olivia’s small performance and Olivia later learned that Amarie was inspired to take up the violin herself.

A small smile appeared on her face, but she quickly sighed away the memory. The job did not end at five o’clock or on Friday. It did not end even when the case was won or lost in court. Each case continued on for months or years after the fact. She was still in contact with victims she had cared for during her first months as an SVU detective. It was a difficult job that had consumed nearly every facet of her life, but still, she loved it.

Her apartment buzzer rang a little after one o’clock, and she crossed the room in three long strides to answer it.

“Who is it?”

“Girl scouts!” a masculine voice attempting to sound like a young girl said from the speaker on her wall.

She smiled and bit her lip. “Girl scouts…? I’m on a diet.”

“Please Miss! Let us up! We’ve got Thin Mints. Loads of them!”

“Sorry, I give to The United Way and we don’t want any cookies.”

“Olivia, seriously,” Jonathan said breaking into his natural voice. “Open the damn door. It’s freezing out here.”

“Oh hey, Babe! Did you buy any shortbread cookies from the girl scouts?” she said laughing.

“Olivia….”

She could hear that he was growing impatient with their little game and she buzzed him into the building.

“Hey!” she shouted when he finally got to her apartment. “You’re not a girl scout!”

Jonathan wrapped his arms around her, the cold from his clothes seeping into her skin through her t-shirt and cotton pajama pants.

“I missed you,” he said into her hair.

“Well, why don’t you take off your coat and stay awhile.” She unwrapped herself from his grasp. “Or at least get warm before you touch me again because you’re freezing.”

“Yeah, well I parked nearly a mile away,” he said, jet black hair shining in the lights of her apartment.

She rolled her eyes. “Why didn’t you just take a cab over?”

“Felt like taking the Jag for a drive. He doesn’t get to leave the garage much and I figured now was as good a time as any.”

Olivia nudged him. “Only you would park your Jaguar a mile away from my building and leave it there all night.”

“If he gets stolen, I’ll just get a new one. He’s getting on in years anyway.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Come on. Time for bed.”

“Oh boy,” he said unenthused, but taking off his jeans to reveal flannel pajamas.

“Like a boy scout,” he said his bright blue eyes sparkling when he saw Olivia had noticed his ensemble. “Always prepared.”

She walked into her bedroom and set her alarm clock for five-thirty in the morning. She was not going to get a lot of sleep, but perhaps she might have the rare opportunity to sleep through the night. So often was her slumber interrupted by the news that someone had been involved in a sexual catastrophe, that she had grown accustomed to living on less than five hours of sleep a night.

“So,” Jonathan said, pulling back the covers of Olivia’s bed, with a smile. “When are we going to play ‘Bad Cop, Good Civilian’ again?”

She tried not to smile at his boyish grin, but she could not help herself. “I don’t know…maybe if you’re good…we’ll see.”

“Oh boy,” he said as she settled into the bed beside him.

“Why do we always sleep at my place?” Olivia asked after they had wrapped her many blankets around themselves. “You hiding a wife or something at your place?”

“Of course not!” Jonathan said with a false indignation. “At least not as of yesterday.”

She gave him a slight kick under the covers, but he just laughed.

“It’s ‘cause my place is so stark and unloved and designed by an interior decorator. Yours has got you all over it and it has something extra special in it that I just love.”

“Oh,” she said yawning. “What’s that?”

Jonathan said nothing, but simply nuzzled her between her shoulder and the side of her neck. All thoughts of Jacob Lewendale’s murderer and Micah Diorel’s crimes began to melt away as Jonathan wrapped his long arms around her.

Olivia smiled into her pillow and as exhaustion finally caught up with her, she let loose a happy sigh. Unlike so many of her past relationships, Jonathan never needed to be told when she was or was not in the mood. He never needed a hint as to how her day had gone and he never wanted her to tell him all about her day. He always knew precisely what she needed and wanted, and she loved him for it.

************************************************************

Thursday January 11, 2007

Woodside, New York

It was just past eleven o'clock at night when a light flickered in the third floor Queens apartment. The bathroom lights never quite reached full brilliance the moment their respective switch was hit, as they were fairly old and hummed for a full second before showing even the slightest spray of light. They sputtered a short blast of light a few times before they continually stayed lit and it was that initial blast of light that Elliot Stabler hated the most about his apartment.

The two-bedroom flat was comfortable and Elliot had no real reason to complain. A friend of a friend held a rent-controlled apartment, and Elliot managed to get it at far less than market value for the area. It was simply its purpose that destroyed him each time he left work for "home."

Elliot and his wife, Kathy, had been separated for more than a year and a half, yet leaving the home they had shared and in which they had raised four children was the memory that sprung to mind each time he entered his bathroom. Bathed in the light of his new apartment, he was only reminded that he was no longer at home with his family.

He removed his clothes, leaving them in a heap in the corner and stepped into the shower. He knew he would take a second one early in the morning, but before he could even attempt to relax for the night, he needed to rinse the stink of human frailties off of his skin. Elliot had spent the greater part of his day watching a young man named Micah Diorel lie through his teeth while his partner, Olivia, cared for Diorel’s victim.

Working in the SVU, Elliot had seen it a million times and he wished, as he had watched Diorel make up lie after lie regarding his whereabouts the previous night, that he could round up all the women of the world and warn them all at the same time to stay away from men like Diorel. What frightened him most about Diorel was that he held the kind of allure that could entrap anyone, even one of his own three daughters.

It never failed to set him in awe: guys like Diorel, who were charming at first, could beat their significant others a hundred times, but the women continuously came back to them. He had wanted to throw a chair across the room when Olivia had told him that Diorel’s girlfriend refused to press charges against him. After he had beaten and raped her and left her for dead, Diorel was going to walk home a free man; free to repeat the acts again and again, until he finally killed her.

Elliot allowed the hot water to run down his face and the rest of his muscular body. Regardless of how the majority of the day went, he still felt slightly relieved. The same friend of a friend who got him his apartment, enabled him to get basketball tickets to a semi-professional team and Elliot took the time to take his son, Dickie, out for the night. Though it was a Thursday, Kathy had agreed and as Dickie was spending the night at his father's apartment, Elliot had been "allowed" to spend an additional day with his only son and youngest child.

He had wanted to take Dickie’s twin sister, Lizzie along as well, but she was going through a phase where she did not want to be associated with anything that was not feminine and “girly,” making a basketball game with her father and brother completely out of the question. He had made sure to ask around the precinct for tickets to any “feminine” events and Olivia had passed him tickets to a ballet she was not using. Elliot planned on surprising Lizzie with the ballet tickets when she least expected it.

He got out of the shower, wiped the steam off the small mirror and stared at the forty-three-year-old man staring back at him. He ran a hand over his receding, close-cropped brown hair and squinted through hooded, large blue eyes into the mirror, all the while wondering about time and age.

Where had all the years gone? It seemed like just yesterday he was at the hospital with Kathy when Dickie and Lizzie were born. His oldest daughters, Maureen and Kathleen, were about to graduate from college and high school, respectively, and the twins had just been confirmed in the Catholic Church. He had never intended for his job to come before his family, but the SVU was easily one of the most demanding units on the force, giving a detective little to no time for his or her family. The job required his full attention, which meant the majority of his time was spent with the other detectives in his unit, specifically his partner, rather than with his family. He never wanted it to be that way, but it was the way of the SVU and he had explained it to Kathy more times than he could remember. He had missed birthdays, holidays and important events in his children's lives, moments he could never get back, all for the job he loved for twelve years.

Most recently, he had sacrificed his marriage, and although he had signed the divorce papers a few weeks earlier, after dragging his feet for months, he still hoped that his wife was simply going through her own mid-life crisis and would let him come back home. He and Kathy had married when they were just nineteen and not under the best circumstances. A generation earlier would have called it a "shotgun wedding," but Elliot knew he had done the right thing marrying her. They were just kids, but Catholics just the same, and he knew that no real man would leave a pregnant woman to have a child out of wedlock. Yet, since they were so young when they married, they each held a fair amount of growing-up to do before becoming the people they were, and somewhere along the line it seemed they had simply grown apart from one another.

Kathy had told him when she was leaving with his children, she was tired of him being angry all the time, and he knew truthfully that he was indeed angry all the time. In his unit, however, it was difficult not to be such. After watching criminals like Diorel walk free, if not by the fruition of their victims, then by some flaw in the legal system, anger was simply a primary response. One could only take so much of society's filth before the weight of the world would seemingly fall straight upon one's shoulders.

Kathy had also told him, on more than one occasion, that she was unsettled by the fact that he would not open up to her, but he could never quite explain that to her. How could he tell her everything he saw in his day? Did she honestly expect him to tell her about the women found raped with scissors or the little boys sodomized to the point they would never walk again? If there was one place he did not want to bring what he saw during the day, it was in his home, with his family. The fact that she would not understand his position, instead pointing out that he opened up to Olivia and not her, simply angered him all over again.

Elliot put on his bathrobe and dressed in his own bedroom, noting the light coming from the guest room that served as a bedroom for each of his children when they spent the night.

The phone rang and he quickly picked it up, hoping it would not bother Dickie and also was not a call stating that someone else had been raped or murdered with sexual connotations.

“Stabler,” he said into the phone.

“Hey, Dad,” replied a young female voice.

Elliot smiled into the receiver. “Maureen. How you doin’, Babygirl?”

“Good,” Maureen said.

Maureen, his eldest and, although he hated to admit it to himself, his favorite, attended Hudson University and was majoring in Psychology. A part of him hoped that she would pursue the same field as her father, while another part of him, the part that always saw her as the blonde toddler he had watched take her first steps into his arms, prayed that she would take another path. Several months earlier, though, Olivia had informed him that Maureen had called her wanting a woman’s perspective on the NYPD.

“What are you doing up this late?”

“Well, it’s still technically early in college time, Dad.” Elliot could hear Maureen smiling.

“Oh, right,” he said.

He did not have the chance to go to a traditional four-year college when he was Maureen’s age, as he had to take care of both her and Kathy, and he loved knowing that she experienced many of the opportunities he missed by marrying young.

“Everything okay?” Elliot asked switching gears. “Do you need any money or anything?”

“No,” she said. “Everything’s fine. I’m just procrastinating because I’ve got a paper that’s due to tomorrow.”

Elliot laughed. “Okay. As long as you get it done.”

“I will, Dad,” Maureen said in the same voice she had used when he nagged her as a teenager.

“So…uh, how’s Jared…er...Johnny…er…”

“Justin,” Maureen said. “God, Dad. Jared? Where’d you get that one from?”

Elliot shrugged although he knew Maureen could not see it. “Knew his name was somewhere along those lines.”

In all actuality, he knew Maureen’s boyfriend’s name; he just liked to mess with her from time to time since she was away at school. In fact, he knew nearly everything there was about Justin Wheeler: his primary school, his high school, sports he played, number of speeding tickets he had had, jobs he held, what both his parents did for a living, what his siblings had done with their lives. The list continued endlessly and was part of a process he had used since the first day Maureen had announced she had a “boyfriend” while in the third grade.

Anyone who came into contact with her was subject to gross scrutiny and if, and only if, they appeared to be clean and decent individuals would Elliot even bother acknowledging them with Maureen. For all the rest, and with his daughter there were many, he simply made his presence well known, as well as the fact that he had the ability to throw someone in jail for a day just because he looked at his daughter the wrong way.

“He’s fine,” Maureen sighed. “He’s been working a lot on his thesis lately, so we haven’t seen much of each other.”

Good, Elliot thought. The less they saw of one another the less likely Maureen would be to repeat the same mistakes he and Kathy had made at her age.

“Marilyn’s moving in with her boyfriend at the end of the semester.”

Elliot felt his heart skip a beat as he considered his daughter’s roommate’s many dramas that oft times involved Maureen. “Don’t you get the same idea. I’m telling you right now, your mother and I will not approve.”

“I know, Dad. I’m just telling you so you’ll know why I’ll be looking for a new apartment in a month.”

“You have any place in mind, and keep in mind that Daddy isn’t exactly made of money?”

Maureen chuckled and Elliot could feel her rolling her eyes across the phone. “I know, Dad. I was thinking of something farther from school, like around Tompkins Square Park.”

Elliot thoughts flitted to his impending caseload and his latest case, which had brought him to the very park Maureen had been considering. “I don’t know if I want you that close to Alphabet City.”

“I’m almost 23. When are you gonna start to let go?”

He sighed. “You know that’s never going to happen. The sooner you figure out that I’m your father for life, the better. What about Chelsea?”

“Chelsea,” she whined. “That’s closer than I wanted to be.”

“But think of the nightlife you’ll have for your last year at school.”

“Not my last year,” she corrected. “I sent out applications for Columbia and St. John’s Master’s programs.”

“Master’s? You might as well go for your doctorate.”

She groaned. “Dad, not again. I’m not going to med school and I don’t see the point in getting my Ph D in psychology.”

“You don't have to go to med school. You could do the same thing a psychiatrist does. Everything except prescribing the meds.”

“And I don’t want to do that, so the subject is moot.”

“Maureen, psychology is a good field. Especially in this city.”

“You know what,” she said impatience watering her voice. “I think I’ve got some inspiration on my paper. Talk to you later.”

“Hey!” Elliot said. “Don’t leave like that. It was just a suggestion. Besides, you have a few months yet before you have to make a real decision. Have you thought anymore about internships.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I…uh…well, I last semester I interned at the Manhattan DA’s office.”

Elliot sat silent for a moment wondering how best to approach the subject. It was not that he disliked district attorneys; far from it. However, he had seen his fair share of them destroy cases that were more than solid when presented to them. The SVU had a specific DA assigned to it, and while Casey Novak did an outstanding job, he had watched as numerous criminals slipped through her fingers into acquittals and back onto the streets.

His own disdain for the other side of the criminal justice system notwithstanding, he did not want his eldest child to become a lawyer. He knew her too well. She would start out with the district attorney’s office, but then switch sides obeying her ambitious side instead of her conscience. The very idea of Maureen defending the same criminals he spent his life trying to put in prison sickened him.

“Dad?” she said. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” he said still stunned. “Why didn’t you say anything about it earlier?”

“Well, I know how you are sometimes about lawyers.”

“But, if that’s what you want to do…” He allowed his voice to trail to silence. “You could’ve still told me or your mother.”

“Well, I told Mom forever ago, but I guess….”

It was Maureen’s turn to fall silent and Elliot tensed knowing the reason. Kathy had been good about relaying important details of their children’s lives onto him in the past, but in the recent months, she had become far more passive. He was only notified when major moments came about, like Dickie fighting at school or Kathleen just barely passing her exams. Kathy had obviously felt that Maureen’s possible choice of vocation was a detail too unimportant to relay to Elliot and he felt a hot flash of anger swell over him.

“Well,” he said after a moment of shared silence. “Whatever you decide to do, just think about it for a bit. Don’t just go rushing into something because you think it sounds cool.”

“I know, Dad. It’s Maureen, remember?”

Her snide comment referred to her younger sister’s ability to bandwagon jump with greater occurrence and far more accuracy than most teenagers her age. Kathleen did whatever her friends were doing, no matter how ignorant. Her friends drank as freshmen in high school and Elliot and Kathy were forced to have a long-winded discussion about alcoholism with her after she came home drunk at just 14. Her friends dated older men and Elliot found himself pulling Kathleen out of a car from a twenty-one-year-old deadbeat she claimed she loved.

Elliot knew he had lost control of his second child sometime around the same time he lost control of his marriage and the rest of his life, and it came as no surprise to him that Kathleen seemed to be taking his and Kathy’s impending divorce harder than the rest of his kids.

“I know, Sweetie,” he said. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“Eventually you’ll have to trust me,” Maureen said.

“I’m getting there.”

She laughed. “Okay. Well, now I really do need to get to my paper.”

“How much have you got left?”

“Well, including the eight pages I did over the past week…twelve.

He shook his head. “What time’s it due?”

“Eight.”

“In the morning? God, Maureen,” he said noting his alarm clock.

“I know,” she said quickly. “I’m on it. Bye Dad!”

“Love you,” he replied and set down the receiver.

Elliot suddenly had the need to procrastinate, not wanting to return to his world of murder victims and shattered lives. He was about dress for a few quick laps around the block, but he thought better of it. Jacob Lewendale’s family would never have a conversation similar to the one he had just had with Maureen with their son. They deserved to know who murdered their child and they deserved that answer as soon as possible.

He headed out into the living room wearing sweatpants and t-shirt and sat down with a copy of Jacob Lewendale's file on his coffee table, hoping to get a greater grasp of the case. He normally would not have had the cases in the open while his kids were present, but Dickie was most likely about to go to bed and he knew that he would have time to close anything not meant for his thirteen-year-old's eyes.

He opened the file, took one look at Jacob's large, blue eyes and closed it immediately. He did not want to let this case get to him, but nearly alone in his apartment, he was not ashamed to let his own fears show. Everyday since he started with the force, he feared for the lives of his wife and children. Since joining the SVU, those feared had tripled. The Lewendales were an average family whose lives had been ripped apart by the loss of their son, and Elliot could not help but relay those same emotions onto his family.

At thirteen, Dickie's blond hair was turning brown, lighter than Jacob’s, but his blue eyes shone just as bright as Jacob's had and it was heart-breaking to think of what he might do if it was Dickie in that file instead of a stranger. He had voiced what he wanted to do to all the criminals with whom he dealt on a daily basis and those words had him brought before the police commissioner. He was not about to make the mistake again, but feelings still raged, especially with cases such as this.

He opened the file once more, focusing immediately on the crime scene photos and the dozens of questions that had come to mind in the five days he and Olivia had been working the case came rushing back to him. Was it simply a pedophile? Some guy who liked early teenaged boys instead of grown women or even grown men and killed Jacob when he fought against what was done to him? Was it someone Jacob might have known and trusted, like a parent or a teacher? Jacob, like Dickie, had played soccer and played on an indoor soccer league during the winter months. Perhaps there was someone who frequented the soccer fields involved? Was this only the beginning of a serial killer’s spree?

The last question that came to mind bothered Elliot the most. They had had the case for five days and while there was DNA found from semen on the body, there was no match in the New York City database, no fingerprints on the box and no witnesses. Everyone who was even remotely close to Jacob and the rest of the Lewendale family had been questioned relentlessly, yet only one of Jacob’s teammates had any information about the last night Jacob had been seen alive. The boy’s own parents had simply assumed he stayed at a friend’s house following soccer practice, and since he was constantly out and about with school, sports and friends, they had not even considered their son missing when he was found in Tompkins Square Park. There were simply no leads to follow and it seemed like yet another criminal was going to get off Scot Free.

Elliot ran a hand over his face and sighed. He considered putting the file away to consider another he had on his caseload, when the door to Dickie’s bedroom opened.

“Hey,” Elliot said, quickly closing the Lewendale file.

“Hey,” Dickie replied, his voice still young and childlike. “Later, Dad.” He had on his coat and was heading for the door to the apartment.

“Hey!” Elliot yelled standing from the couch. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“David’s,” Dickie said innocently.

The Kalinger family lived a block West on Heiser Street and their youngest son, David, went to Dickie’s school and played soccer with Dickie as well. When it had come time for Elliot to find another place to live, he chose an area of Queens that would keep him close to his children’s schools and also close to his former residence, just in case Kathy or the kids needed anything.

Elliot glanced at his watch and then stared at his son with furrowed brows. “It’s eleven o’clock.”

“I’ll be back by one,” Dickie said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“On a Thursday night?”

“Dad, we’re gonna be doing homework.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me you had stuff to finish up before we went out tonight?”

Dickie shrugged and put his hands in his pockets.

“How ‘bout this afternoon?”

“I was out.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say? Out?”

“Come on, Dad,” Dickie said becoming exasperated. “I’m there a couple of hours and I’m back by one. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is you had all day to do whatever it was you were supposed to do. I’m not going to let you go wandering the streets just because you chose to procrastinate.”

“But, it’s due tomorrow and I already told him I’d be over!”

“Well, I suggest you this remarkable invention known as the telephone to call David and do your homework over the phone.”

“Dad,” Dickie said. “Come on…Mom would let me go.”

Elliot paused before issuing a retort. Unlike his daughters who always referred to his separation from Kathy with either tears or forlorn expressions, Dickie used the issue to his advantage at times, knowing it was the one and only soft spot Elliot had formed throughout Dickie’s life.

He sighed. “We both know she wouldn’t. Now, go back to your room and take care of it over the phone.”

“Jessica’s gonna be there!” Dickie finally shouted, his hands held out as if pleading for understanding.

A smirk spread across Elliot’s face as he stared at his son. Dickie’s long-standing crush on his partner had begun to subside slightly, and the newest dark-eyed love of Dickie’s life, Jessica Barrow, lived three doors down from the Kalingers.

“So,” Elliot said, “This is going to be a homework par-tay?”

Dickie rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dad. I promise I’ll be careful and I’ll be back at one. It’s just down the street.”

Elliot’s eyes gave an involuntary glance toward the case files sitting benignly under day-old newspaper on his coffee table and then back at his son. “No,” he said sternly.

Dickie shook his head in a fashion Elliot had seen more than once in Kathy. “This blows!”

He stormed across the living and slammed his bedroom door shut.

“Tell me about it,” Elliot sighed to himself.

He hated being the disciplinarian, especially now that he was completely removed from his children. Even when he and Kathy had been together, she was always the parent of the household. Elliot saw his family so infrequently that he was more or less the guy who simply brought home a paycheck.

He sat back on the couch and picked up Jacob’s file again trying to imagine the face of his murderer instead of dwell on the similarities between Jacob and Dickie. The killer would most likely be male, judging from the crime scene images, and would have an average face, a face a boy of thirteen would be prone to trust. From the only eye witness statement, Elliot supposed the killer would have most likely known Jacob, had the chance to get close to him, even become his friend.

Elliot shook his head at the face of the murdered child, gathered his files and went into the unoccupied bedroom. He knew he had had enough of imagining Jacob Lewendale’s killer, but he still could not wait to have the bastard in his squad room. Elliot loved the interrogation process as much as he loved running down perpetrators in general. He had caused criminals to cry, wet themselves or even call out for their mothers while enduring his interrogations. After so many years as a detective, Elliot was the complete professional and he knew exactly which words could make a suspect confess everything, which made Micah Diorel so very frustrating. Even after three hours of Elliot’s interrogating, Micah still claimed that he had not touched Evelyn Rivers, regardless of the fact that a hand print that matched the size and shape of his hand, glowed red on her face.

He ran a hand over his hair wondering if it was the stress of the job that was causing the hairline to slowly creep farther and farther back on his head or if it was just his genes at work. He shrugged off his own question choosing instead to lie on his back on the bed that was not nearly as comfortable as the one he had once shared with his wife, hoping for some semblance of sleep to come quickly before he was awakened by yet another case in the middle of the night.

Some nights he wished that every criminal or would-be criminal could simply hold up his or her crimes in favor of other undertakings just for one night so he could get the full night’s rest his body so terribly craved. Just one night.

************************************************************

A creak outside Elliot’s bedroom door caused his eyes to fly open at one-thirty in the morning. He instinctively grabbed his gun from his nightstand drawer, but set it back down remembering that Dickie was spending the night and was most likely half asleep, walking to the bathroom like he did as a child.

He opened his bedroom door to find Dickie fully-dressed and in mid tiptoe, halfway across the living room and going back to his bedroom door. Father and son stood a moment staring at one another, each staring back at the other in disbelief; fear building in Dickie’s eyes, rage building in Elliot’s.

Elliot shifted his weight on his feet and put his hands on his hips. “Where the hell have you been?” he said.

“I-I haven’t b-been anywhere,” Dickie stammered.

“You haven’t been anywhere? Why are you wearing jeans and your shoes?”

Dickie glanced down at himself and his eyes darted toward the side of the room. “I needed…like a…drink of water.”

“And you put your shoes on for that? And your jacket?”

Dickie’s searched around the living room again.

Elliot squinted at him. “I’m gonna ask you again: where you have been?”

Dickie took a deep breath. “David’s.”

“After I told you not to go!”

“You were being unreasonable,” Dickie said, now nonchalant and rolling his eyes.

“Unreasonable! I don’t care if you ever think I what I say is reasonable. When I say no, it means no!”

"Dad, it's just like I said. I was out at eleven and back at one."

"It doesn't matter! I told you not to go and you did it anyway! What, did you wait until you thought I was asleep and sneak out?"

Dickie stared at the floor. "We got the project done and I'm back home safe. I don't see the problem."

"You don't see a problem with doing exactly what I told you not to do?"

"You were being unreason-"

"Unreasonable! You don't even know why I told you no! No, you know what? All that matters was you disobeyed me just because you thought you could get away with it."

Dickie continued to study the floorboards.

"What if something had happened to you? I'm expecting you to be here and safe, and you're out wandering the streets with whoever!"

"Not whoever. David, Jessica and a few other peo-"

"I don't care! I need to know where you are at all times."

"You knew where I was going."

"No, I knew that I sent you to your room and you should have been there until breakfast tomorrow, this morning!" Elliot was so angry he wanted to shake his son. "Go to your room. You're grounded."

Dickie's eyes grew wide. "For how long?"

"'Til I say so."

"How the hell long is that gonna be?"

"Until you learn you are not going to run the streets whenever the hell you feel like it!"

"I wasn't running the streets! Dad, I was at David's working on homework for Chrissake!"

Elliot threw his son a cold glance at the use of God's name in vain and Dickie fell silent immediately.

"You talk to you mother like that?" he said sternly.

"Mom would've let me go."

"If you hadn't waited 'til the last second, I would've too, but you did, so I didn't and now you're grounded."

"For how long?"

" 'Til I'm not pissed about this anymore."

"Fat chance that's ever gonna happen."

"Well, then I hope you had good time with your friends tonight because you won't be seeing them anytime soon."

Dickie started stormed past him. "What, are you going to lock me in my room?"

"I'll do what's necessary."

"Whatever. I gotta go to school in the morning, don't I?"

"Dickie!"

Dickie took the finality in the sound of his name to heart and raced into his room, slamming the door shut. Elliot sighed as he settled back down on the couch. He held his face in his hands and closed his eyes. Things were easier when the kids were little. For the most part, they did as they were told. Now that they were older, it seemed like they were all turning against him at the same time. He sighed, not knowing if this was just his children acting as teenagers or acting out because of what had happened with he and Kathy.

He got up and poured himself a glass of water making a mental note to tell Kathy what Dickie had done in the morning. Elliot still could not believe it. Dickie was thirteen and already sneaking out of the house. Dozens of questions came at him at once. How long had he been doing this? What if he had not have woken up as Dickie was coming back home? Would he simply continue doing this until Elliot found him in a box on Tompkins Square? What if something had happened to him? How could he explain it to Kathy? How would he live with himself?

He went back to his bedroom and saw that Dickie’s light was still lit. He wanted to barge into the room and demand that Dickie go to sleep immediately, but decided against it. Elliot had done enough to damage the relationship with his son for one night.

Glancing at his alarm clock that read close to two o’clock in the morning, Elliot lied on his bed and simply stared at the ceiling. Maybe he could get three or four hours before he needed to get up and make his trek back into the SVU’s thunder.

He turned toward the window and closed his eyes. He would have to deal with Dickie in the morning, but he was unsure how to do it. They only had so much time between the two of them and he hated the idea of spending that little time at odds with his son. Feeling the waves of sleep overtake him, Elliot allowed his mind to drift into the precious REM sleep he so rarely achieved.

He was unsure how long he slept before he heard the ripping chirp of the cell phone that sat on his nightstand. Elliot groaned and glanced at his clock. Four-seventeen. He let out a deep sigh and flipped open the phone after fumbling a bit.

“Stabler,” he said exhaustion emanating from his voice.

“Detective Stabler,” a male voice said with a heavy accent. “This is Officer Keith McKillen from the 1-6.”

“Yes,” Elliot said knowing precisely what was about to be said.

“You’re one of the SVU detectives on-call tonight, and we have a situation here at Tompkins Square.”

Elliot’s ears perked up immediately. “Who’s been found?”

“Still unsure at this point,” McKillen said. “It’s a white male. ‘Bout twelve, maybe thirteen.”

“Was he found in or by a box?” he asked thinking of the case that set on his coffee table.

“No, but he was found nude, near the same place that other body was dumped a week ago.”

Elliot sighed. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

He pushed “End” on the phone and quickly pressed “Star 2.”

The phone rang twice before a less than familiar, groggy male voice answered the phone.

“The West Side of Olivia’s bed speaking.”

Elliot sat silent for a moment while he heard some slight rustling and then Olivia’s voice.

“Give me the phone, Jonathan,” he heard her say a distance from the phone.

“Benson,” she said after a few moments more.

“Olivia,” Elliot said. “There’s been another one.”

“Tompkins Square?” she asked.

“In the same place as Jacob Lewendale.”

Olivia let out a low, heavy sigh into the phone. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Yeah,” Elliot said closing the phone and running a hand over his head.

Thankfully, his apartment was in walking distance of Dickie’s school and Elliot knew Dickie had friends to walk to school with in the morning, but the situation exasperated him nonetheless. He did not want to be gone when Dickie woke up in the morning, as that had been the situation far too often in the past, but depending on how long it took for he and Olivia to go through the crime scene, interview witnesses and canvass the area, it would be past nine o’clock before he would even have a moment to think. Any thoughts of having “make-up” breakfast with his son faded quickly and Elliot rose from his bed to dress and face yet another young victim.

************************************************************

Unknown Time and Place

He felt her shudder under his touch and the shivers ran electric under his fingertips. He would be done with this one soon and then…then he would be ready for another.

She whimpered, knowing what was about to happen and he relished in the moment. The pitch black of the room kept her from seeing him, but he had been there for so very long. He could see her just fine. She was beautiful in the light that just barely peered into the room from the door that only he could locate.

He had taken her again and again for ages now, but he still had a use for her. She sold well and he enjoyed her on and off the clock, but boredom was edging on him day by day. He would need a new one. Not one of the others he kept away, but someone new altogether. Someone who had not come to anticipate what he was about to do. Someone special; someone great.

It would need to be someone exceptional and strong and he did not want to fork over another couple grand for one who had been weakened by beatings and other abuses. He needed someone he could break and train and mold into a wonderful possession, all of his own. Someone feistier, with a little zest to make the productions a little less monotonous and his nights all the more fun.

He had his sources, but for now he would simply have to wait. Wait until the perfect one came to him. They always came by fate and eventually came to him in fear. But for now he would have to wait and take this one, as well as the others, as often as the urge reared him to them.

Chapter Two

 

Friday January 12, 2007

Tompkins Square Park, New York

Tompkins Square Park by day was a beautiful inlet to the city, with its large, old-growth trees and picnicking areas, its baseball field and quaint, yet urban pathways. By night, the park was illuminated by the lights of the bordering streets of Avenues A and B, and single persons walking through carried a step quicker than that taken North or West of the park. The bitter January wind rustled the residual leaves that lied on dirty snow piles and the park itself seemed to shiver against the cold.

Elliot stepped out of his precinct car, thinking of Sunday afternoons he had spent in and around the park as a child himself, and those spent when he and Kathy were young and still without children. Less than a hundred feet from where he had parked, the red and blue lights of NYPD squad cars lit the surrounding trees and pavement in a flashing purple light. He walked toward the scene quickly, preparing himself with each step. It was a ritual he had performed with every murder scene to which he was called and this morning would be no different.

"You sure it's the same guy?" Elliot asked in the direction of the medical examiner as he approached the scene.

"I can't say for an absolute certainty yet," the black woman, medical examiner replied standing from the tree-covered area.

Her long, curly, black hair was pulled back into an elegant pony-tail and her large, dark brown eyes were inquisitive, yet filled with sorrow for a picture she had seen far too often as a medical examiner in the city. As the county medical examiner associated with Manhattan’s Special Victims Unit, Dr. Melinda Warner worked with the murdered victims of rapists and child molesters every day, and though she saw the worst filth society could produce many times a day, she was still not quite accustomed to it.

"I'm willing to bet he is," Melinda continued. "Just from the positioning of the body and the ligature marks on his neck. He was beaten and sodomized…the same as the Lewendale boy."

"No box this time," Elliot said forcing his hands into the fingertips of a latex glove.

"No," Melinda said. "And, I don't see anything on the ground to denote that he ever laid one down here."

"This is the other side of the park," Elliot said as he looked around through the flashing lights. "Jacob Lewendale was found by the baseball field. The basketball courts are just up the way from here."

He often spoke his thoughts aloud, mostly in Olivia's company, just in case anyone around him could add any insight to his observations.

"We're starting a canvass of the area," an older, uniformed officer informed Elliot. "We’re guessing this guy’s gotta be local."

Elliot only nodded as he came upon Melinda's vantage point and stared at the lifeless body of a twelve-year-old boy. They had shared this view several times already since the New Year and Elliot hoped this was not indicative of the rest of the month.

The boy's blond hair was browned from the mud and dirt from the surrounding ground under the trees and he looked so very thin that Elliot simply shook his head. He probably never stood a chance against his attacker.

"How are we on an ID?" he asked.

"Nothing at all, yet," Melinda said. "We just got lucky with the other one."

"Not lucky enough," Elliot whispered.

"What've we got?" Olivia's voice shouted from the patrol cars a few yards away from the scene.

Melinda sighed. "Another white male, approximately twelve years old. He's been raped and strangled."

"Just like Jacob Lewendale," Olivia said when she finally got to where they were standing.

"Minus the box," Elliot said.

"We sure it's the same guy?"

"The ligature marks on his neck looks the same, but..." Melinda stood over the boy's body. "Doesn't look like there's any fluids present, though."

"Wonder why he decided to wear a condom this time?" Olivia asked aloud, more to herself than to the doctor and the detective standing before her.

"He's getting better at what he does," Elliot said.

He bent down and took a long look at the solemn face that would never again wake and made a mental note to check Missing Persons reports as soon as he and Olivia got back to their precinct.

The air grew colder even though small rays of light were beginning to shine on the horizon, and Elliot took out a weathered note pad as his eyes began to fully take in the scene. He could see Olivia doing the same a few feet away from and a right, old ritual began.

They had been working together for a little more than eight years, and all those in the SVU could see, few partnerships were as solid as theirs. In a unit where people left sometimes days after volunteering or being assigned, Elliot and Olivia had stuck it through together. Sometimes the partnership was seamless and they were like a machine. They could work in tandem and few words were needed to track down a criminal or investigate a dire situation. Elliot could count on Olivia to simply know and she could do the same. Like with many pairings between males and females on the force, there had always been a bit of speculation on just how in sync they were. All talk aside, they had been nothing but professional throughout the course of their partnership...until last May.

Elliot nodded toward Olivia who strode off in the direction of several officers on the scene to begin her line of questioning. As he nodded, he caught something in her eyes that told him they were still not in sync; still not back to where they used to be. The connection he had valued to the point that he had taken it for granted was still lost.

They had argued heavily over their last major case and he wondered whether they could get back what they used to have. His anger combined with her sarcasm and snide comments during the case had led them to a place he would rather not revisit.

Olivia had tried everything in her power to get Elliot to open up to her when he was going through the beginnings of his separation. She had seen it building over several years; he was slowly losing his place in his family and he refused to talk about it. She had offered herself as someone he could talk to, but he continuously pushed her away from him.

Although she could never openly discuss cases with her, Olivia had often spoken of her worsening partnership with Elliot to Maya. Maya would always give a positive quip, stating that perhaps they needed some space from one another; space and time to put things back into perspective. They received both last May after Olivia had come too close to one of her marks. The child rapist, Victor Gitano, had been holding two children hostage and she had been a step too close behind him when he had lashed out with the blade he held. Another moment closer and it would have been the end of her.

When they finally tracked down Gitano, he had murdered one of his hostages and nearly killed Elliot when he took him captive as well. A frequent nightmare of Olivia’s was Gitano telling her that he would kill her partner before her while she held him at gunpoint. Once Gitano had been taken down by a sniper cop, Elliot and Olivia had time to talk and their conversation turned down a road that made Olivia’s inside squirm. She could not shoot Gitano when he had Elliot by the throat because she would not chance Gitano killing Elliot first, and Elliot ran to her side when Gitano had knifed her instead of pursuing Gitano, resulting in the death of one of Gitano’s hostages. She and Elliot had become too close and she decided to leave the unit. Once she had had a taste of time away from Elliot, she was only too excited to jump on an offer from the FBI’s New York branch months later in August.

Even after Olivia had returned to New York and the SVU, things between she and Elliot were still tense. They had said things to one another; things they had never once uttered let alone allow show in facial expressions or movements. Instead of their partnership flowing effortlessly like it had in the past seven years, there was now strain, anxiety and, of course, conflict. May had sparked a match in their relationship and their separation in August did nothing but fan the flames. They noticed things in one another they had deliberately ignored in the past; a sway of hips or shifting muscles, the pure blue of one’s eyes or the white flash in the other’s smile. Each knew the only things that kept their emotions from turning pubescent were Olivia’s current relationship and the state of Elliot’s past one.

Olivia began her line of questions to the surrounding officers and they each stood respectfully and answered one by one. Technically, there was no real difference between a uniformed officer and a plain-clothes detective, but there was a reverence held for detectives, especially those in the SVU.

A few yards away, Elliot questioned a second set of detectives.

"Who found the body?" he asked the shortest of the three standing before him.

"Guy named Drover," the officer said. He pointed toward the well-lit patrol cars. "He's over there. Pretty shook up too."

Elliot nodded. "What's he doing out here? It was probably three in the morning when he found the body."

The officer shrugged. "Said he was takin' a walk."

Elliot smirked. "A walk?"

The officer smirked in return. "A walk."

"Well, all right," Elliot said.

He began to stride off in the direction where Jeffrey Drover stood near the line of flashing squad cars. The moment he began walking, he saw an officer point Olivia in Drover's direction, and she too began walking toward him. They caught eyes and nodded toward one another. They came together and made a direct track toward Drover. Together they towered over most of those encountered and although his broad shoulders sometimes dwarfed her thin frame, they always walked in perfect stride. Their every movement together commanded nothing but respect and veneration.

"Jeffrey Drover?" Olivia said once they had reached him.

"Yeah," he said turning to face them.

"I'm Detective Benson," she said, "and this is Detective Stabler. We need to ask you a few questions."

"Yeah, sure," Drover said solemnly.

Elliot took in every part of Drover as Olivia began to question him. He was thin and his long, drawn face, though oddly undistinguished, gave the impression that he was a bit older than his thirty years would suggest. Large, grey eyes that refused to reach Olivia's, perfectly reflected the patrol car lights as they stared at the ground. His face, covered with a light, blond stubble, was soft, likeable and attractive and appeared fairly tan against his dark brown hair. He held a face that anyone could trust.

Drover's black, spring-like jacket flapped open and shut as Olivia rattled questions at him and his loose-fitting jeans seemed stiffened against the cold. While the jeans could be fitting for any occasion, Elliot did not like that Drover was wearing a light jacket in the middle of January. Even without a heavy coat, Drover did not look at all chilled by the winter air, which raised the question: What had he been doing to keep so warm? He gave Drover another quick glance and decided that he did not like him; from his all-too-handsome and trusting face to the way he had his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets.

"I just can't believe someone would do this to Connor," Drover said shifting on his feet.

"You identified the victim?" Olivia asked eyebrows high on her forehead.

"Yeah," he said. "I used to coach his U-10 soccer team. I've trained him and a bunch of other kids on and off for the past couple of years." He sighed. "I just can't believe someone would do something like this to him."

"How well did you know him?" Olivia said.

Drover shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose. Came from a normal, nuclear family. Never caused any trouble...well, anymore than any of the other boys. He was a really great kid."

"What were you doing out here this early in the morning?" Elliot asked, little sympathy reflecting in his voice.

Drover blinked twice at Elliot, a bit caught off guard by the question. "I was just going for a run."

"In your jeans?" Elliot said squinting in skepticism.

"I've got some spandex pants on underneath," Drover said without missing a beat.

"Wouldn't sweats or something been a little better?"

Drover nodded. "I thought about that, but it's laundry day tomorrow and I figured that bigger jeans would be warm enough. I just haven't been able to sleep recently. I'm sure you guys know what it's like to lose sleep over your job."

“Truly,” Olivia said scratching a pen on her notepad. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary when you were out tonight? Any cars in the area, anything on the ground?”

“You mean besides the dead kid I’ve known for years,” Drover said toward the ground.

Olivia sighed softly. She normally took better care of those who found children in the city. He deserved a little more tact, especially since he had known the victim. “Did you notice anybody in the area when you found him?”

Drover shook his head. “No. No one was out here.”

“Did you touch him at all when you found him?”

“I just called the cops the second I saw it was…was a person.”

“How’d you notice him?” she asked.

“I saw something white near the trees and…I don’t know, I figured someone had dumped something in the park.” He sighed and shifted on his feet again, shaking his head. The detectives could see his eyes were beginning to shine. “I still can’t believe it...I mean I just saw him a couple weeks ago. I just can’t believe it.”

Olivia reached into her pocket and pulled out a white card. “This is my number. Please, call me if you need anything or just need someone to talk to.”

Drover took the card, nodding his head. “Thanks,” he said softly. He stared at Olivia for a long time, almost as if studying her face. “Thanks a lot.”

“Talk to the officers over there and they’ll make sure you get a ride home,” she said breaking the eye contact.

Drover nodded again not really hearing what she had said and just stared at her card, while she and Elliot began to walk back to the crime scene.

“Well,” she sighed. “Do we want to start on Avenue B and work our way West or do you wanna start from the other end of the park?”

“Avenue B,” Elliot said. “And I want to talk to him again.”

“Who? Drover?” she said surprised.

“Yeah,” he said. “I want to bring him in.”

“What?” Olivia had stopped walking. “Elliot, we haven’t even talked to anyone else yet.”

“There’s something…off about him,” Elliot said. “You didn’t see it?”

“I didn’t notice anything off about him, except for maybe running at three in the morning. But he’s not the only New Yorker who gets his jollies risking an early-morning run.”

Elliot shook his head. “I don’t like it. My gut tells me we should look at him a little more.”

“Why?”

“Come on, Liv. What’re the odds that the victim’s old soccer coach is the one who finds him on an early-morning run?”

“The same as the odds on one of the first cops to the scene identifying Jacob Lewendale. What makes you want to jump on Drover? There’s nothing about him that seems liked he’d be anything less than a red-blooded, all-American.”

“Who goes running in regular street clothes in the middle of the night?”

“He didn’t have a drop of blood on him or look even remotely dirty, Elliot. He would’ve got something on him if he dumped the victim here.”

“He didn’t look remotely cold either,” Elliot said. “It’s the middle of January. Who goes out anywhere without a coat? Running or not, his story already isn’t adding up.”

He began to walk down the path, but Olivia caught up with him in three strides.

“Well, I still want to know if anyone in the surrounding apartments noticed or heard anything, before jumping on Drover. You know, do a little police work rather than rely on hunches.”

“Sounds good,” Elliot said sardonically and they began trekking East toward Avenue B.

They canvassed each of the buildings and their respective tenants over the next four hours. They had given instructions to several sets of the officers at the scene to question those in the surrounding buildings on Avenue A and East 7th and 10th streets, but enacted their own canvass in silence between one another.

By nine o’clock in the morning, only one tenant on Avenue B had seen anything; the same black SUV driving past the park continuously around one o’clock. The detectives noted the information, but both doubted the reliability of the neighbor, who looked like he had spent the majority of the previous night drinking a great deal.

“Want to grab a cup before we go in?” Olivia asked Elliot. He agreed and within in thirty minutes, they were sitting in a busy coffee shop at Sixth Avenue and Eleventh Street.

The coffee shop was small and always crowded, with old images of faces smiling in a New York long past. The detectives were regulars to the shop, and while the little man who ran the shop was characteristically rude to the sporadic customers and those who referred to his shop as being on "Avenue of the Americas," he always made sure Manhattan's SVU detectives were well-served. Elliot and Olivia had successfully apprehended the man who had attacked his daughter while she was closing one night, and aside from his tearful thanks when the rapist had been convicted, he always made sure to slip them a piece of pumpkin pie for free.

They both sat silently drinking their coffees and looking over respective notes from the early morning canvass. Elliot stuck a fork into his generous slice of pie; Olivia had declined hers stating it was far too early in the morning for sweets. Although they were just beginning their investigation in the murder, the case was already reaching a disheartening state with virtually no witnesses and few options available, most of which would leave them empty-handed. And, the silence was killing both of them.

"So," Olivia said, her coffee drained, "when do you want to track down Connor Whickfield's family?"

Elliot stared at her for a moment. “I think Warner’s already working on the positive ID. She’ll be calling any minute now.

Olivia nodded and allowed her eyes to wander over the rest of the shop as silence fell over the pair of them again.

“Maybe…” Elliot began. “Maybe I was a little premature jumping on Drover this morning.”

A wave of relief rushed over Olivia as a small smile crept to her lips. “I understand why you did though.” She paused. “If this is the same guy who killed Jacob Lewendale, we’ve got to find him before he gets a better taste for this.”

It was Elliot’s turn to nod at his partner. He pulled out his notepad and flipped the sheets to notes made several days earlier. “What notes did you get last night? I want to compare with the Lewendale case.”

"Yeah," she said taking out her notes. "Same park for both of them, but no box the second time."

"Hang on sec," Elliot said pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Stabler."

"Elliot," Dr. Warner's voice said through the phone. "It's Melinda. I made a little headway on this morning's case. There are definitely spermacides present and the ligature marks on his neck are the same as those on the Lewendale boy. I've also made the positive ID on Connor Whickfield. He's from the Upper West Side too."

Elliot sighed staring at his notes. "Where?"

He heard some papers shuffling through the phone. "210 West 66th. Parents Leroy and Hannah. He's been in the system as a Missing Person since Tuesday. The parents gave us a few of his things to lift his prints."

He wrote down the address, nodding into the phone all the while. "All right. We'll be by in an hour to get a photograph."

"Okay."

He hung up without a valediction and looked up at Olivia who was staring at him expectantly. "That was Warner. She made the positive ID on Connor Whickfield."

"Missing Persons?" she asked.

"Since Tuesday," Elliot said, putting on his coat.

They both headed toward the front door of the shop where the owner told them their coffees were free and that his daughter just made Dean's List at Hudson University.

************************************************************

Whickfield Residence

210 West 66th Street

11:48AM

The Whickfield home so resembled that of Jacob Lewendale's it made Elliot's stomach turn. The bright, busy streets home to many people raising families, held an almost innocence that was rarely seen in the city. The apartment buildings of the two boys looked nearly the same and Jacob Lewendale's family lived just three blocks North of the area.

The detectives quickly walked the steps to the Lewendale home and with just one knock, the front door opened to reveal a frantic woman in her early forties.

"Yes!" she nearly yelled at them.

Elliot and Olivia removed the badges from various pockets and flashed them at the woman.

"My name is Detective Stabler," Elliot said. "And this is Detective Benson..."

"Roy!" she shouted running into the apartment. "Roy! The police are here!" She came back to the door, tears forming at the brim of her eyes. "Have you found any word on Connor? Please tell me you have something!"

"May we come in, ma'am?" Olivia asked.

"Why are asking to come in!" she shouted. "Just tell me! Tell me now. Where is Connor?"

Olivia steadied herself as a gentleman came running to door. He had his father's eyes, she thought.

"I'm Leroy Whickfield," he said putting his arms around his wife who had dissolved into tears.

"Mr. Whickfield..." Olivia said. "We found Connor. I'm so sorry, but he's dead."

She heard an all too familiar wail come from Mrs. Whickfield and Olivia only saw a rush of greying blond hair come toward her as she felt a hard shove come to her midsection. Her balance completely thrown, Olivia felt herself falling backward and braced herself for the impeding fall against the stone steps. Elliot's arm shot out from his side, grabbing hold of Olivia's side and coat flap as she began to fall. When he managed to steady his partner, Elliot shot a glare Mr. Whickfield who was holding his wife to his chest to keep her from launching further attacks on Olivia.

His partner could have been seriously injured. A backwards fall down eight stone steps was likely to break at least one bone and depending on how hard she hit and if she had hit her head, Elliot would have been spending the next few months in and out of hospitals visiting Olivia. All this not withstanding, his stare toward the Whickfields was also filled with compassion and understanding. They had just received the worst news that any parent could ever hear and Elliot knew, if put in the same situation, he might have reacted in a similar fashion. After delivering the same somber to news to parents over and over again, he had been slapped, punched, kicked, screamed at and thrown against walls by parents who refused to believe what they had heard. He hated having to do it and it varied each time the ritual was performed. Some parents were speechless, in a daze of confusion and tears when they received the news. Others acted much like Mrs. Whickfield had. Most were a combination of tears, disbelief and fury.

"H...how? When?" Mr. Whickfield said over his wife's screaming into his shirt.

"We're not sure when," Elliot said, "but it looks like sometime within the past forty-eight hours. He was strangled." He did not know whether he should include the fact that Connor had been sodomized at that point. The mother was still screaming over the news of hearing that her son was dead and news of how he died might send both mother and father over the edge.

Mrs. Whickfield removed herself from her husband's grasp and fled into the living room, falling just before reaching the sofa placed perfectly in the room.

"Is there a place where we can talk?" Olivia asked quietly.

Mr. Whickfield nodded and ushered the detectives into the apartment.

************************************************************

"He was always so good. That's what everyone would say to us. Connor was such a good kid."

Leroy Whickfield's hands trembled as he attempted to rest his teacup onto the table that sat in the small dining area."

"He's our only child," he continued. "We married young, Hannah and I, and we tried for years to have children. We both've come from large families and wanted at least five, but...the doctors could never tell us what was wrong. All the tests and everything, and no one ever knew what was wrong. And when Connor came...he was our little miracle."

Elliot and Olivia sat opposite Mr. Whickfield, both with their hands folded and neither touching the tea the grieving man had made.

"Never caused one bit of trouble. Ever. I can't remember having to tell him to do anything more than once. He was always ready to go to church on Sundays, always had his homework done. He always had a lot of friends and got excellent grades...Hannah and I would lie awake at night and wonder how God blessed us with such a perfect child."

"Mr. Whickfield," Olivia said softly wishing she could allow the man to continue on about his son forever. "Do you remember anyone paying Connor any extra attention lately? Anyone who looked out of the ordinary around him or the rest of your family?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I really wouldn't know. Connor was always so popular...he was always telling us about someone new he had met."

"Can you think of any reason anyone might have to hurt you or your family?"

Mr. Whickfield shook his head again and sighed. "Look, I know you're probably used to dealing with mobsters or something, but we were just ordinary, boring people. We don't gamble or owe any large debts and we aren't involved in any illegal activities or anything. We just work, we pay our taxes and we loved our son."

Olivia felt Elliot shift in his seat next to her and she wondered again just how much this case was already affecting him.

"You said Connor had a lot of friends," Olivia began. "What kinds of things did he do? Did he do a lot of sports or did he hang out a lot?"

"He was always out," a voice said from the dining room doorway. Mrs. Whickfield, having recovered from the initial shock of hearing of her son's death, stood just behind where the detectives sat, looking extremely distressed. Her blonde hair with its slivers of silver was tousled and standing on end in places, and blue eyes appeared dull behind the torrent of red in what should have been the whites of her eyes.

"Connor played baseball and basketball and soccer," she continued stepping into the room. "He was constantly active. The only we way could keep track of him was through his cell phone."

"When was the last time you saw or spoke to him?” Elliot asked.

Mrs. Whickfield took the untouched tea that sat in front of Olivia and slowly sat down next to her husband. "Monday night. He had indoor soccer practice that night and he was supposed to call us once they were finished so we could pick him up. When he hadn't heard from him by midnight, we immediately called the police...It's strange because we thought the worst, but really didn't believe it. To think that something could have happened to our little boy. Our perfect little boy..."

Her voice trailed off and she dissolved into tears once again as her husband enveloped her in his arms.

"When you're up to it," Olivia said. "Do you think you can give us a list of Connor's friends? Anyone who knew him well?"

Mr. Whickfield nodded, but continued to rock his sobbing wife.

Thirty minutes later, the detectives were walking back toward their car, bickering slightly over Elliot's last comments before leaving the Whickfield home.

"Do you know a Jeffrey Drover?" Elliot had said as he and Olivia were walking out the door.

"Yes," Mr. Whickfield had said. "He was Connor's soccer coach a few years ago. He gives the boys personal training sessions about once a month now. Why?"

Elliot had paused a long moment before replying. "He was the one who found Connor this morning."

Mr. Whickfield stared at him in disbelief. "You don't think...," he had said. "I mean we've known Jeff for years. He's always been great with the kids. You don't really think..."

"We'll be talking with everyone in Connor's life," Olivia had interjected, half dragging Elliot out the door.

Minutes later the detectives were snipping back and forth at one another.

"You had no right to bring up Drover!" Olivia shouted as they reached the car.

"Olivia," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, he's a suspect, and we are obligated to find out the truth about him."

"You can't just go around telling anyone who'll listen that you like Drover for this! He just rubbed you the wrong way and now you're launching some kind of war against him. There was no reason to mention Drover to them, especially since there's no reason to suspect him."

"He says he just happened to be walking around at midnight. In the same park where Connor was found. That's just too convenient for me."

"Elliot, there is no evidence that Drover's involved with in anything other than having poor judgment."

"How much are you willing to bet we find a correlation between Drover and the Lewendale boy, too?"

He glared at her as she stood mouth open, unable to reply. On face value, Elliot had a valid point. It was more than intriguing that the Whickfields had had a close relationship with the man who found their son murdered, but on the other hand, she had heard of stranger coincidences previously. They also needed to consider that letting Drover's name out too early in the investigation not only impeded on his civil rights, but could also cause him run if he was actually involved.

"Elliot...what if...what if they'd said he was a creep because they just didn't like him. That one thing could've led us on a wild goose chase after Drover when he's completely innocent."

"It wouldn't be the first time that mistake had been made."

"But it doesn't mean we can just go after Drover like that."

"I don't understand why you're going to bat for a guy who may have had contact with both victims. Our first real suspect."

"And, I don't understand why you're pulling out all stops for a guy you decided that you just didn't like, right from the start! Besides, Elliot," she continued. "We haven't talked to anyone else in Connor Whickfield's life and we don't know who he could've met the night he was killed."

Elliot shook his head at her and broke eye contact, staring at the car door.

"And it's like you said, 'may have had contact...' If we talk to the Lewendales and they mention Drover...maybe he'll be worth looking at, but not until we have proof of something. We need something more to go on aside from gut feeling. Do you really think Casey'll be able to get a warrant to search him if we've got nothing but praises from the victim's parents and a bad feeling from you?"

"We both know that gut feeling has saved more people than it's screwed over."

Olivia sighed.

"Okay fine," he said. "We'll lay off Drover for a bit, but how are you going to feel when he's killed a few more kids and we coulda had him after this one?"

"The same way I'll feel if we find out he's killed these two kids and he bolts because he knows we're onto him and then we can't get any resolution for their families."

Elliot shook his head and got in the car, slamming the door shut in the process.

Their little tiff had drawn a bit of an audience from people walking by and Olivia felt her face grow hot at the idea that she and Elliot had let their argument escalate the way it did. She got into the car and they drove to Connor Whickfield's middle school in silence.

************************************************************

MS 251 Ulysses S. Grant School

283 West 70th Street

3:08PM

Middle School 251's red bricks shone bright as the sun showered the small building with light and gave the appearance of comfort and warmth despite the striking cold. Pre-teen children were streaming out of the doors and began congregating around the concrete steps in front of the school. Small groups appeared almost instantly separating the grinning jocks and the tense nerds, the blond popular girls and the sullen late-bloomers and not even the winter air could quell the flirtatious attitudes of the more adventurous youths.

The navy, police-issued Taurus pulled in a space found across the street from the school and the detectives quickly strode across the street. They stood out immediately, drawing stares from a few of the students, as they walked in silence into the school. The task before them was sometimes just as gruesome as the one from which they had come. Kids, especially pubescent ones, had the tendency to be even more unpredictable than adults when confronted with news of death. They also lied more often and stymied the detective's best efforts to find the truth about any individual, usually to the detriment of all those involved.

Inside, the building was brightly lit, and the school's trophy case brandished several awards in athletics as well as academics, though the latter were scattered further back in of the case. Students crowded around lockers that lined the walls, gathering coats and hats, most faces filled with delight that school was finished for the day.

The detectives found their way to the school's front office, flashing badges to one of the braver hall monitors who had asked if he could help them, and asked if the principal was available.

Principal Harry Randall was a massive man at six-foot-four and appeared to have handled his share of middle school fights and difficult cases in general, but despite his unyielding demeanor, the brims of the aging man's eyes grew red behind round glasses at the news of Connor's murder.

"I just can't believe it," Randall said, sitting into the weathered leather chair that sat behind the faux-oak desk. "Connor...Are you sure?"

Elliot nodded. "We made a positive identification with his parents this morning."

"My God," Randall said as he put a hand to his furrowed brow. "I just talked to them yesterday. I told them they shouldn't get too worried just yet. That he'd turn up all right."

"Is there a way you could give us some information on some of Connor's friends?" Olivia asked. "His parents had the numbers for a couple, but we didn't want to push them considering..."

Randall nodded. "Yeah...uh...there's Carter Latham. Those two are...were always as thick as thieves, but...uh...It's hard to think up anyone too specific right way. Connor has always been so popular. The kids are really going to have a time when they hear about this."

"We understand," Elliot said softly.

"There's Chris Stradding and Steve McPhillips. They live close to Connor and I think they all went to elementary school together. And, yes, Branden Hastings and Nicholas Baumgardner. I think all five of them all played soccer with Connor. But...uh...I'd talk to Carter first. If there's anyone who might know if Connor was up to something, Carter would know."

"Do you have a list of his teachers?" Elliot asked. "We'd like a chance to talk to them if we could."

"Yeah, I can get you his schedule," Randall said turning toward the computer on his desk. "Just give me a second."

"Have you noticed anyone watching the school lately?" Olivia asked while he typed. "Anyone who's been paying special attention to Connor or any of his friends?"

"We're a middle school, Detective," he said sternly. "All of the staff are trained to keep an eye out for individuals who shouldn't be around the schools. If anyone had noticed anything, they would have notified me."

Minutes later in the teacher’s lounge of the school, Elliot and Olivia spoke with all eight of Connor’s teachers in one setting. Each one of them had the same things to say: Connor was an angel, everyone like him and that they were completely shocked. Two had asked what this world was coming to and another actually erupted in tears. A short while later, after promising to do what they could to find the person or persons responsible for Connor's death, the detectives were making their way through Manhattan traffic back to their police precinct, the 1-6.

The tall, multi-story building was a flurry of blue and white as officers wearing various uniforms actively carried out the mission "To Protect and Serve." Elliot and Olivia rode the elevator to the fifth floor, the Special Victims Unit, and his early caffeine fix waning, Elliot poured both he and Olivia a cup of slightly old coffee.

The small, brown coffee stand overlooked the array of desks and tables that scattered the floor of the SVU and it was a crucial element of the unit’s atmosphere. All those in the unit were overworked and as a good night's sleep was such a rare commodity for either the desk clerks or the detectives themselves, the coffee pot was constantly delivering a stream of the dark stimulant.

Elliot handed Olivia her coffee, dark with two sugars, and sat down at his desk with his own, dark three sugars, that was set opposite against hers. Every inch of space was used on either desk, covered by countless open cases, follow-up notes, and pending court appearances. The brown tops were weathered, slightly scratched and held several ring stains where coffee cups had sat, continually filled, well into the midnight hours.

He kept multiple pictures of each of his children and kept the sole image of his once whole family hidden behind his stack of phone messages. On Olivia's desk sat a series of framed photographs that were each at varying degrees of exposure due to her own stacks of paper: one of she and her mother, one of she and Maya from when they were in college, and one of Jillian's sons who referred to her as "Aunt Liv." She had considered adding an image of her and Jonathan to the array, but decided against it after remembering a comment Elliot had once made about her having to change the picture in the “boyfriend” frame quite often.

Elliot glanced up at Olivia as she took a long drink of her coffee and thought for a moment on all the others who had sat in that seat throughout his years in the unit. His first partner in the unit, Detective Flannery, had showed Elliot the proverbial ropes when he first came to the unit and taught him everything he knew. After Flannery there had been two others who did not last long and then there was of course, Olivia. When she left for Oregon in the summer past, Elliot was given a new partner. Dani Beck, the curly haired beauty, struck Elliot in a way unbecoming of NYPD detectives and, thankfully, she did not last long in the unit. As he recalled the pure delight that ran through him when Olivia once again occupied that desk across from him, she handed him a file he needed to sign and he snapped back to the present.

A few feet away from Olivia and Elliot's desk pair sat the desks of Detectives John Munch and Odafin Tutuola.

Munch had been on the force for more years than anyone could remember. The bespectacled, three-time divorcee had worked as a detective in Baltimore’s Homicide for more than twenty years, before deciding to come to Manhattan and continue on a different path. He had previously thought that dealing with something other than the constant murders seen in Homicide would make a better, brighter path for him, however, Munch, like so many others who came to the SVU, found that dealing with so many living victims was far worse than the more straightforward task of tracking down murderers. Living victims meant an actual person who could describe every, single thing that happened to them. In the end, however, Munch enjoyed knowing that his work eventually helped victims and could send them on better paths rather than simply providing empathy to families after-the-fact.

He had a way of keeping the dark setting of rapes and child molestations on a lighter side, by cracking jokes when he could and adding an air of conspiracy theory wherever possible. For Munch, everything was connected and even his work in the SVU, regardless of whether or not others wanted to hear about it, held some kind of intrigue to it.

John's demeanor contrasted sharply with that of his younger partner. Odafin, nearly always called "Fin," had been transferred into the SVU after serving in Narcotics for several years. The light-toned, black American rarely opened up to the other detectives preferring instead to remain stoic and keep a cool vigilance. His time with Narcotics had hardened him in many ways and Fin had ways of retrieving answers from suspects that was matched by few others. Over the years, Fin had let down his guard through the constant stream of heart-breaking victims to even the acceptance of his homosexual son.

Fin had joined the unit seven years earlier, and while he had not planned on it being a permanent shift, he stayed regardless. He had been told some of the horror stories regarding the SVU prior to coming, but Fin, as the tough New York cop he was, knew he could handle anything. Most cases affected all of the detectives, but Fin remained strong against all the crimes against humanity he had seen. Every once in a while, however, he removed himself from a case when he knew he needed time away from the unit.

He had grown so accustomed to the conspiracies and "shake-downs" of criminals in Narcotics that it took him a while to gain a sympathetic ear and allow himself to feel for the victims. Fin would never openly admit it, but the hugs from rape victims he had helped and the overflowing thanks he received from the parents of children he had saved from the hands of pedophiles was all he needed to keep him going.

Fin threw a nod of his head in the direction of the detectives to acknowledge their presence and continued updating a case from his own hefty caseload. Elliot nodded back and rubbed his hands across his face, taking in the rest of the unit's space out of sight for a moment.

The unit was open and spread out across a large, arena-like space. It was crowded and filled with desks, tables and multiple dry-erase and state-of-the-art electronic bulletin boards and monitors throughout the office to aid the detectives as they mapped out the actions of criminals and victims. On the far end of the center stood the office of Donald Cragen, Captain over the Manhattan Special Victims Unit.

The captain had reached his position nearly twenty years earlier, however, due to a number of political issues arising in his career, he could not manage to get promoted. Problems with alcohol reoccurring every once in a while notwithstanding, Cragen remained diligent in his work. He held a kind face beset by soft, brown eyes and although the majority of his hair had long since gone, the few wisps of grey that remained shaped him well.

Inside the office, Cragen stood from his desk, taller than average with a build that suggested he was once an athlete, and stared through the blinds of the large window in his office. He too had been awakened with the news that a young boy had been found in Tompkins Square Park and he had just gotten off the phone with his boss who wanted an immediate account of his detectives’ efforts to find this murderer. As the day proceeded, he had been updated with a few pieces of information regarding the case, but he primarily depended on his two lead detectives to feed him what he needed.

He glanced behind him at the white-faced clock that hung on the wooden panels of the office and sighed. Catching a glimpse of the many photos and accommodations that lined the walls of the office and led the eye to the rollaway bed that stood in the corner of the office, Cragen knew it was going to be a long weekend. They were only just beginning the case, and the more dire the case, the more likely it was that he would be spending his nights on the hard mattress of the bed he kept in the office.

“People,” Cragen said, as he marched out of his office, his hand square in his trouser pockets. “What have you got for me on this newest victim?”

He spoke directly to Elliot and Olivia and though they had each had at least ten opened cases bearing down upon them, they knew exactly of which victim he spoke.

“We talked to the parents and the teachers,” Elliot said. “And we’re going to give his friends a chance to get home before questioning them.”

“Anyone have anything on him so far?” Cragen asked, a frustrated wrinkle appearing in his brow.

Olivia shook her head. “Nothing so far. Everyone we talk to just keeps saying the same thing. Connor was an angel. Connor was such as good kid…”

“We found one tenant,” Elliot said, “on Avenue B who said he saw a black SUV going around the park a few times around midnight.”

“But,” Olivia said. “He’d been downing tequila alone for most of the night, so there’s no telling what he actually saw.”

Cragen stared at a space past the two detectives for a moment. “Wasn’t there someone from the Lewendale case who said something about a black SUV?”

Olivia picked up a manila folder and rifled through several pages.

“Yeah,” she said. “Marcus Valentino played on Jacob Lewendale’s soccer team…he said the last time he saw Jacob, he was talking to someone in a black truck.”

Quiet fell over all of them as the realization that they were truly dealing with a serial killer hit home.

“What did the medical examiner have to say about the two of them?” Cragen asked.

“There’s no DNA this time,” Elliot said, “But Melinda says everything looks nearly identical in both murders.”

“Suspects?”

Olivia and Elliot exchanged glances and the level of tension rose several degrees in the room. Fin shook his head at the pair of them and returned to his gaze to his paperwork. He wondered vaguely whether or not his co-workers would be able to get themselves back together. The detectives shared an icy stare for almost a full minute before Elliot spoke.

“There’s a guy,” he said. “Jeffrey Drover. He found Connor Whickfield and he also knew him.”

“What did the parents have to say?” Cragen asked.

“They said he was a stand up citizen,” Olivia interrupted. “And I know I didn’t see anything otherwise in him.”

Elliot glared at her. “I don’t like him. When he found the body, he said he’d been running, but he was dressed in street clothes.”

“But, he there was nothing else extraordinary about him this morning,” Olivia added.

Cragen glanced between them and frowned. “Well, daylight’s burning and the longer it takes for us to find a lead, the longer it’ll take us to track down this guy. I want you two to start on the friends of the Whickfield boy. Bring up this Drover and then see if there’s any other connection to the Lewendale case. Fin, you and Munch will talk to the neighbors once Munch gets back. You’re also catching tonight.”

Fin nodded, but said nothing, having already known he would be the detective on-call that night. Elliot and Olivia stood, their respective coffees just barely beginning to tingle in their bloodstreams and grabbed their coats.

“Well, that was two hours I’ll never get back,” John Munch said as he strode into the squad room.

“Where’ve you been?” Cragen asked he walked toward them.

“Wallowing in that heated menagerie of lies, deceit and black robes,” he said.

“Hell?” Fin asked a small smirk appearing on his normally stoic face.

“No, the courthouse,” Munch joked. “The perp’s back in his jail cell and his lawyer’s being held on contempt charges when he tried the screaming approach when it came to me. Perhaps they’ll have a chance to re-strategize while sharing bunks for a few days.”

Elliot shook his head and he and Olivia walked toward the elevators on the floor.

************************************************************

Carter Latham had the same dark blond hair and bright blue eyes seen in Connor Whickfield, but his face was covered in a dusting of freckles that would most likely disappear by the time he finished high school. He had a despondent expression on his face that looked eerily similar to the one on Connor when he was found.

Carter's parents sat on either side of him, his mother gently rubbing his back while tears welled in her eyes. The entire family sat on one side of their dining room table, and Connor sat with his chin in his hands and his elbows propped up on the table.

"Are you sure?" Carter said, squinting across the table in Olivia's direction. "I mean...How could he be dead?"

Fat teardrops splashed from his mother’s eyes onto the table and his mother wrapped her arms around him.

"It's okay, Baby," she said. "It'll be okay."

Olivia felt Elliot shift beside her, the second time that day, and she instantly thought of how Connor, Carter and Dickie all looked so very similar.

"Carter," Olivia said with the soft voice she had honed perfectly for victims and their families. "When was the last time you saw Connor?"

Carter shook his head and did not look at Olivia. "Not since Monday."

"What time Monday did you see him?"

"During practice," he shrugged.

"Did you see where he went after practice?"

Carter shrugged again. "I thought Jeff was giving him a ride home, but he just walked off."

"Okay," Olivia said, her voice losing some of its high-pitched air as she gave Elliot a side glance, "from the indoor soccer fields, what direction did Connor start walking?"

Carter stared at the wall behind Olivia. His expression had not changed and though he was not crying, he rarely blinked.

"Do you have any idea what might've been bugging him," she asked. "I mean, you said he'd been out of it lately...what'd you mean by that?"

"I don't know," he said, his voice growing lower and more dejected. "He wouldn't talk to me about it. He said he could talk to Jeff though. I think it musta been about a girl he didn't want me to know about."

"Why wouldn't he want you to know about a girl?"

Carter shrugged. "Happened last year, 'cause it was a girl we both liked, but other than that we talked about everything."

"This Jeff," Elliot said after remaining silent for the majority of the exchange. "He's your coach?"

"Well...he's more like an assistant coach. He's a trainer."

"Yes," Mrs. Latham said. "He's always been so great with all of the boys. Always supportive and always there for them."

Mr. Latham cleared his throat. "We're actually quite thankful the boys have him in their lives. We know there are things they won't talk to us about, but Jeffrey's always been someone they could talk to."

Someone they would be prone to trust, Elliot thought.

Elliot turned his attention back to Carter. "Why did you think Jeff was going to take Connor home on Monday?"

"Connor said he'd talked to Jeff that weekend and since he was there that night..."

"Is Jeff around your practices a lot?" Elliot asked.

Carter looked up for the first time and squinted at Elliot as if he did not understand the question. He glanced at Olivia and squinted as if saying, "Is he serious?”

"Uh, yeah...he's our trainer. He's always there."

Elliot paused briefly remembering the escalated conversation he had had with his own thirteen-year-old son. "Did he ever seem inappropriate with you guys?"

"No," Carter said. "Jeff is cool. He's always cool."

"Okay," Olivia said sensing that Carter was getting agitated. "It's okay. We just want to find out what happened to Connor."

"Well, why are asking about Jeff?" Carter said his blond brow beginning to furrow. "You make it seem like he did something."

"No," Olivia said though Elliot had opened his mouth to respond. "We just want to know where Connor went on Monday. If there was anyone who talked to him or anyone he would've gone off with."

"I told you, I don't know!"

"It's okay," Olivia said. "I understand..."

"No!" he shouted his voice cracking. "You don't understand! How could he be dead?"

He stood up and backed away from the table. "I don't believe you! Connor just ran away or something. He's fine. He's fine!"

Mrs. Latham rushed and grabbed her now crying son. She just held onto him and wept with him. Mr. Latham simply sat in his seat shaking his head.

Elliot and Olivia stood from the table.

"We'll come back," Olivia said pulling one of her cards out of her coat pocket and handing it to Mr. Latham. "When he's calmed down a bit."

"Yeah," Mr. Latham said and the detectives left the apartment.

The visits to the homes of Connor's other friends faired no better. Each time the detectives were met with either anger and tears or solemn testimony with few words. Nicholas Baumgardner confirmed Drover's "coolness" with the boys, but no one knew anything about where Connor was going or had any information regarding who might have taken him.

Drained, both emotionally and physically, Elliot and Olivia returned to their precinct with little more information than they had when they started. It was nearing eight o'clock and they had been attempting to find something, anything, related to the case that could help them find who killed Connor, yet nothing had been forthcoming.

Olivia sat silently at her desk, a solemn expression on her face, while Elliot phoned his wife to explain a situation with his son. Elliot had told her what had happened with Dickie, on the drive from Connor's school, and while Olivia felt that Elliot had blown the situation out of proportion, she knew she had no place to tell her partner how to raise his son. She sat instead, pondering on the night ahead of her in the squad room, instead of what she had hoped she would be doing with Jonathan that night. Olivia had hoped that she could relax in his arms this Friday, but she knew with her 4AM wake-up call came the idea that she was automatically expected to spend the majority of her night pouring over this case. In the past, either she or Cragen would send Elliot home to spend at least some time with his family, but no such allowance was coming tonight. Given that they had literally nothing on which to base their investigation, Friday night was to be devoted solely to coming up with information on Connor Whickfield and Jacob Lewendale.

"...and make sure he stays inside," Elliot said over the phone.

"Well, how long do you expect to keep him holed up here?" a female voice asked on the other side of the phone.

The level of annoyance in Kathy Stabler's voice was apparent and biting, and it was all Elliot could do to keep from escalating the situation based only on her tone.

"I mean," she continued," you're not the one who has to play prison guard for him for the next couple days."

"It's not my fault he's decided lying to me was the best thing he could do."

"You should've just let him go."

"At eleven o'clock at night?"

"Why didn't you just take him over there?"

"It's the principle of the thing," Elliot said his voice growing a bit louder. "He procrastinated. He should’ve told me he had something to do and I could've rescheduled for him. The point is he shouldn't've lied to me."

"How long do you expect me to keep him like this?"

"At least until he apologizes for lying to me. Until he realizes that sneaking out at night is not acceptable here with me or...at home with you."

Elliot was met with silence and he wondered for a moment if she had simply hung up on him.

"Well," she said after a full minute of silence, "just as long as you know that he's practically on lock down until you say so. I'm not going to undermine you, but if this continues on too long..."

"I know, Kath," he said. "I got it. But tonight, he's not going anywhere."

She sighed into the phone. "All right, Elliot. He'll be okay." She paused again. "Has Kathleen called you recently?"

His eyebrows furrowed together in alarm at her sudden change in topic. "No," he said. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Kathy said quickly. "She's just been...I don't know how to describe it. She's just been so quiet lately and I know something's wrong."

"Have you asked her?"

"Yeah, because she's always been so open with information in the past..."

"You never know."

Kathy sighed again. "Just...when you talk to her listen for anything...I don't know...strange."

"I'll listen," Elliot said. "When she decides to talk to me."

She did not answer immediately. "Well...I've got to go. I'll talk to you later."

He only nodded into the phone, though he knew she could not seem him and did not reply.

"So," he said, once he hung up his phone. "We've talked to nearly two dozen people today and everybody is saying that Connor was an angel and no one knows what happened to him that night..."

"Just like Jacob Lewendale," Olivia said absent-mindedly.

They sat in silence for another moment before Olivia spoke again. "We need to track down every kid on Connor's soccer team and see if anybody knows anything. There's no way that no one saw Connor after he left his practice that night."

"Well, we have the names of all the kids," Elliot said. "And…I think we should talk to Drover sooner rather than later."

Olivia threw him a cautionary glance, but he continued. "Look Liv. He came up in every conversation with every kid we talked to today."

"Because you brought him up."

"And, if you remember we were told to."

"But all of them, Elliot? No one has had one word against him and none of these kids are even slightly behaving as if Drover's done something to them."

"Carter Latham was upset. More so than the others when we...I brought up Drover."

"Elliot, we had just told him his best friend had been murdered. He reacted as any thirteen-year-old boy would."

"But, his response in regards to Drover was the strongest out of all of them." Olivia simply glared at him. "If he and Connor were best friends, then the odds are high that if Drover was abusing one he might have abusing them both. I think we need to bring him in because he's the only lead we've got so far on this case."

Olivia allowed her eyes to linger on his with a tired, yet angry expression set upon her face. "Let's talk to everyone on Connor's team first, before we drag this guy in for no good reason."

"Fine," Elliot said standing. "But if anyone, anyone, says anything crazy about Drover..."

"I'll drive to his place myself to bring him," Olivia finished.

He gave her a slight smirk. "All right. I'll be back. Nature calls."

She nodded and began to write notes as to how the case was progressing. A constant stream of reports detailing the case was necessary for not only her superiors, but also in the event that they found the criminal responsible, her documentation would be essential to the court case that would follow.

Her telephone gave its shrill cry from its place on her desk and Olivia picked it up quickly, expecting it to be Maya or Jonathan inquiring on why their plans had been destroyed for yet another evening.

"Benson," she answered.

"Uh...hi, Olivia?" a young voice said. "This is Kathleen. Is my dad around?"

Olivia looked up toward Elliot's desk though she knew he had just left. Elliot's second oldest daughter was calling her, but his phone never once rang. Her brow furrowed in slight confusion over why Kathleen had not simply called her father's desk or cell phone from the start.

"Well...no," she said. "He's not around me at this second, but I can get him. Hold on."

"Wait!" Kathleen said. There was an urgency in her voice that Olivia did not like. "I...uh...actually wanted to talk to you...if that's okay?"

Olivia was silent a moment before answering. “Um, yeah. That’s fine. What’s up? Is there something wrong?”

“Well…no. I just…”

As Kathleen’s voice trailed off, Olivia felt apprehension growing within her. While she had talked to Kathleen outside of Elliot’s presence in the past, and more recently had done so as she pleaded with Olivia to talk Elliot into returning home, Olivia still did not like the tone of her voice. The conversation was bound to turn somewhat ominous.

“Kathleen?” she said. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

“No, no, no,” Kathleen said quickly. “I just…uh…wanted to talk to someone about…something.”

“Okay…is it something important?”

“Well, no…not really, I guess.”

Olivia repressed a sigh, not wanting Kathleen hear her growing annoyance, but it was difficult. Elliot’s daughter had called her specifically, but she was being less than cooperative when it came to the facts.

“Are you sure it’s not important?”

“Well…no. It’s not. Well…I-I guess I just don’t want to talk about it over the phone.”

“Do you need me to meet you somewhere?”

“Um…yeah. Actually, could we meet in the city? There’s this café near NYU…Schreider’s. Do you know where it is?”

“I do,” Olivia said. “What time ‘cause I’m still at the station house?”

“Uh, yeah, I know…How ‘bout tomorrow? I’m taking Dickie to his indoor soccer practice early, so maybe like…around eight in the morning?”

“Okay…that sounds fine.”

“Great.” The relief that resounded through Kathleen’s voice was nearly overwhelming and Olivia felt slightly unnerved.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get your dad because he’s just around the corner?”

“No,” she said, again too quickly for Olivia’s taste. “He doesn’t need to know. In fact, I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t have to tell him at all?”

Olivia felt her breath catch involuntarily. She had never cared for secrets, especially between her and her partner, and whatever Kathleen needed to talk to her about was going to be something secretive. Something Kathleen wanted neither of her parents to know. Olivia felt a chill run down her spine as she considered actively helping one of Elliot’s children keep a secret from him.

Another secret, she thought attempting to push away an old memory at the same time.

“Well,” she began slowly. “If it’s important, I’m sure he’d want to know.”

“He will,” Kathleen said. “Just…not right now. I want to talk to someone else first.”

“Okay,” Olivia said nodding into her phone. “So, tomorrow morning, eight AM at Schreider’s.”

“Yes,” Kathleen confirmed. “Thanks so much, Olivia.”

“No problem.”

She hung up her telephone, but allowed her hand to rest on the receiver, unsure of the next step to take. She tried running down a list of all the things Kathleen could feel comfortable talking about with Olivia and not Elliot: school, hair, makeup, boys, sex, alcohol, drugs, pregnancy, college…The list seemed to go on forever, and Olivia did not feel comfortable talking to Kathleen about any of them outside of Elliot and Kathy’s permission.

“You ready?” Elliot said as he strode toward their desks.

She perked up immediately and stood, grabbing her coat. “Yep.”

“Something wrong?” he asked when he saw the quick change in her demeanor.

“No,” she said. “Everything’s fine.”

Elliot nodded at her and did not pursue the issue further. As they walked out of the squad room together, notes on the members of Connor Whickfield’s soccer team in hand, Olivia felt a weight upon her shoulders that she simply could not shrug off of her.

************************************************************

Northbound on Amsterdam at Broadway

Upper West Side, New York

9:50PM

Elliot pushed his foot on the gas pedal of the navy Ford, breezing through another green light as he drove up Amsterdam Avenue with Olivia sitting beside him silently. She was leafing through pages of notes they had both made after visiting the homes of eight of Connor Whickfield’s indoor soccer teammates. With eight homes down, thirteen when Connor’s closest friends were included, and still no significant information on the victim’s whereabouts, the case was looking more dire than it had earlier.

The detectives had five more homes to visit before they would return to their precinct to regroup. Olivia had earlier suggested that she and Elliot run the two crime scene details through their system to see if a similar MO appeared and they decided they would spend the rest of Friday doing such once they had interviewed everyone.

As much as he hated to admit it, Elliot knew that Olivia had been more or less correct in regards to Drover. Each of Connor's teammates had nothing but wonderful things to say about him. They each said in various ways that Drover was a "stand-up" guy, always enjoyable and never seemed even remotely inappropriate with any of them. While he did not have personal training sessions with all of them, the ones whom he did train on the side fervently confirmed that Drover was a normal person.

One boy, David Campbell, seemed less enthusiastic in regards to Drover and more complacent about the idea that one of his peers had been found murdered, but Elliot chalked the boy’s demeanor up to shock. The boy had said that Drover sometimes behaved as if he wanted to be his teammates’ role model and that the idea bothered him, however, from simply listening to him talk about the sport in general, it was apparent that David was being forced to play and take separate lessons by his parents and had long since lost any passion for soccer.

All the praise poured into Drover’s direction not withstanding, Elliot could not help but feel that there something off about Drover. Maybe it was simply the way he looked that morning. He did not seem as shocked about finding a child’s murdered body as Elliot would have expected him to be. Maybe it was simply the way he had looked at his partner when she questioned him.

He gave Olivia a sideways glance and shook the idea from his head. Maybe it simply had to do with the fact that his son had had team trainers on his soccer teams and they always looked just like Drover. There was also the issue that someone was murdering boys just Dickie’s age, likeness and demeanor. The similarities between Dickie and both Connor Whickfield and Jacob Lewendale were so striking that it took a fair bit of strength to keep from revealing to Kathy that night his real reason for keeping his son in the house was more a precaution than a punishment. A flash of Connor Whickfield’s image on the mantel of his parents’ decorative fireplace sprang to Elliot’s mind, and when the face dissolved into Dickie’s, a cold shiver ran through him.

As he turned right onto West 82nd Street, Elliot’s thoughts turned to his prior conversation with his estranged wife. He and Kathy always kept the majority of their conversations quick and to the point, rarely leaving them room to discuss anything more than a situation regarding the children. As the night stood, Elliot wondered how much Dickie hated him at that moment and he felt a slight burn in his stomach when he thought about what could be wrong with Kathleen.

There seemed to always be an issue with Kathleen lately and Elliot knew it all stemmed back to his and Kathy’s marital problems. He had seen the same issues arise in other children throughout his career with the SVU, and while he never wanted to imagine the same problems falling onto his own children, Elliot knew he probably should have seen it coming. Of the four, Kathleen was taking the impending divorce the hardest and, of the four, she was also the most hostile to both he and Kathy.

Olivia sighed next to him and she flipped her notepad to a new sheet in preparation for delivering gruesome news to yet another family. Elliot’s mind sprang forth the memory of the look on Olivia’s face when he had returned from the restroom just before they left the precinct. She appeared worried, like something was not quite right with her and that same preoccupation rested on her face hours later. After nearly a decade of spending the greater part of his waking hours with her, Elliot could read Olivia exceedingly well and a part of him wanted to ask what was bugging her, but he did not. Eight years together had also taught Elliot not to probe her until he was absolutely certain something was wrong.

He gave her another sideways glance and looked away as her eyes came up to meet his. Perhaps she had just been checking up on a victim from one of their last cases.

She’s always been so good at that, he thought to himself.

Olivia gave a slight shiver in her seat and Elliot instinctively turned up the heat in the car. She was not actually cold, but simply could not stifle the bodily reflex that occurred when her mind was focused on many things at one time.

She felt a myriad of emotions weighing on her with every breath and the idea of having to break somber news to yet another young life was not helping. There would also be the matter of the press to attend to if not that night, then certainly the next and the reporters were always relentless with their questioning. She was also simply annoyed that their entire day had been devoted to this one case and yet they were no closer to tracking down a suspect than they were the moment they had found the victim. The fact that she and Elliot had spent a good part of the day arguing over Drover had not benefited her mood and while she and Elliot had shared a quick, but more upbeat dinner than they had had in the past, she still did not like where they were as partners. Regardless of her efforts they were still not back in sync and she attributed some of her own unwillingness in attempting to close the gap to her looming conversation with Kathleen.

Olivia stared out the window at the family homes and apartments that lined the street and wondered if she should just tell Elliot that his daughter had requested to speak with her. If what Kathleen needed to talk about was serious, she would have to tell Elliot, and she knew he would be angry to learn that she had not told him the moment she knew something was wrong. As Elliot parked the car alongside a row of neatly parked vehicles, Olivia felt more drained than she had all day. Running on only the chocolate covered espresso beans she kept in her desk drawer and sheer perseverance, Olivia got out of the car and followed Elliot up the stone steps to the home of the Dyseki family to speak with twelve-year-old Everett.

Several minutes later, Ms. Dyseki was telling the detectives that she had already heard about what had happened to Connor and that she wanted to do anything possible to help them find the person responsible. Everett, taller, but the thinner than the other boys on his team, informed them that Connor had left the indoor soccer complex on West 108th once their practice had ended and headed toward Central Park on his own.

“Why’d you let him go off on his own up there?” Ms. Dyseki said with a very condescending tone to her son. “We’ve all told you a thousand times not to go walking off alone when you’re around the fields. You never know who’s watching.”

Everett sighed and stared at the beige rug on the living room floor.

“Are you sure he went toward the park?” Elliot asked. “Because Connor’s house is West of Columbus. If he was going toward the park, he’d have been going in the opposite direction of his house.”

Everett shrugged. “He went towards the park. I know because I remember thinking he was maybe going to just catch a cab or something and that it seemed stupid because he could’ve just got a ride with me or Carter or any of the other guys or even Jeff.”

His eyes darted toward his mother at the mention of Drover before quickly settling back on the floor. Both Elliot and Olivia noticed this and Elliot gave Olivia a look to perform a well-rehearsed diatribe with the mother.

“Ms. Dyseki,” Olivia said. “Could I trouble you for a glass of water?” She revealed a single pill from her coat pocket. “I just needed to take my, uh, asthma medication.”

Elliot suppressed a smirk knowing full well that Olivia had just quickly removed a sugar pill from its package that lied inside her deep pockets and did so to get Mrs. Dyseki out of the room for a moment. They had used the same routine dozens of times to allay parent’s suspicions. They were not specifically lying to speak to minors alone, but without the more underhanded techniques, younger witnesses tended to keep quiet about pivotal pieces of evidence. In cases when the parents seemed overbearing, as with Everett’s mother, Elliot thought it necessary to talk to the boy without her for a moment.

“Everett,” Elliot said once Olivia and Mrs. Dyseki had left the room. “Now, you’re sure Connor went towards the park on Monday? It’s very important.”

“Yeah,” Everett said. “He went towards the park. I remember him going out the door and towards the park.”

“Okay.” Elliot nodded his head. “What about this guy Jeff? You said Connor could’ve gotten a ride from him. Why him? What’s special about him?”

Everett glanced toward the doorway through which his mother had disappeared and looked down at the floor sighing.

“It’s okay, Everett,” Elliot said in almost a whisper. “You can tell me. It’ll be just between us.”

“It’s not anything,” he said. “Jeff…he just…”

Elliot stared at him expectantly. If he could just say the right words, they would have something on Drover and finally a break in their case.

“Jeff…” Everett continued. “He used to date my mom, that’s all.”

“I see,” Elliot said ensuring that no disappointment aired in his voice.

“I thought they were going to get married or something a while back, but my mom broke it off. She’s still really weird about it, but he’s actually pretty cool. He doesn’t, like, call me out during practice and training and stuff.”

“He’s a cool guy,” Elliot repeated, having heard the same statement made a dozen times that day.

“Yeah,” Everett said. “You know, he’d help me with my homework and took me to pro soccer games and stuff. Just…you know stuff like that.”

“Okay,” Elliot said nodding.

They shared a pregnant pause before Everett broke the silence. “Is it true, what I heard? That Jeff actually found Connor this morning?”

“Who told you that?”

Everett simply shrugged as Olivia and Ms. Dyseki returned from the kitchen. Olivia gave a nearly undetectable nod of her head toward the doorway and Elliot returned it with a nod that was just as invisible.

“Thanks a lot, Everett,” he said. “You’ve been really helpful tonight.” He pulled his card out of his pocket and handed it to Everett. “If you think of anything else, you can call me at anytime, okay?”

Everett nodded and Ms. Dyseki opened the door for them.

“Thank you,” she said as they were leaving. “Please, let us know when you find out anything.”

“We will,” Olivia said, knowing that Ms. Dyseki and Everett would most likely learn the details from the same sources that informed them that she and Elliot were coming, long before they would hear an official word from them.

“What’d he have to say about Drover?” she then asked Elliot once they were back in their car.

“Same old story,” he replied. “Drover’s a great guy who even helped with his homework.”

Olivia nodded, but Elliot continued. “But, he did say Drover dated his mother.”

She scoffed. “Well, maybe Drover likes his women in their latter years. I’m told some women seem to be more fun-loving when they start to approach their golden years. I think it’s something with getting that last itch scratched before they’re too old to get things started.”

Elliot smiled for the first time that day and simply shook his head as they drove toward the next house.

Three hours later, Elliot put the dark Ford into “park” on 10th Avenue and stared at Olivia as he turned off the car. They had spent the past hours going through dozens MOs of past sexual offenders in their system, after receiving no further significant information from the last three boys on Connor’s soccer team. They were both coming close to twenty-one hours on their feet investigating the case and a little after twelve, Cragen had sent them both home, claiming they had done all they could for Connor Whickfield that day.

Elliot did not always drive Olivia home after work, but as he still had to cross the East River to get back to his apartment, he ended up dropping her off at her apartment more often than not. Sometimes she protested, insisting that it was not worth the trouble and many times she simply left hours after him to take a cab home instead. Tonight, however, things still seemed unsettled between them and Elliot did not have to coax Olivia into the car for a ride home.

"I want to apologize about Drover," Elliot said with a sigh. "You...you were right. I really didn't like him the second we saw him."

"El," she said. "It's okay. I mean at least we can more or less cross him off the list."

"But, I do still want to talk to him just to know what he and Connor talked about this past weekend," he added quickly.

Olivia nodded. "Understandable."

"It's just," he continued, "I can't help seeing Dickie in all those faces. I know I've even seen a couple of the kids we talked to tonight on teams he's played soccer against before. And Drover...it's like he's every soccer or baseball coach I've ever met. I think it just hits a little closer to home than usual because I know that Dickie would probably like a guy like Drover."

"I know, Elliot," she said rubbing his arm.

"And now...I can't even go home and hug them and know that it'll be okay."

She nodded again. "How are Kathy and everyone else doing?"

Elliot shook his head. "Fine. Everybody's fine." He wanted to open up further to Olivia, but something, whether it was pride or shame, kept him closed. "What about Richie Rich? How's he doing?"

Olivia smiled and nudged him. "Jonathan is doing fine. Not that I've seen much of him lately, but I assume he's doing fine."

"I liked his little greeting this morning. 'West of Olivia's bed.' "

"You like that, eh?" she said.

"Yeah, it was cute. Just what I'd expect of him."

She smiled again and wondered if this would be a good moment to tell him that Kathleen had called her. Silence fell over them as she thought and it was awkward, the likes of which they had had more often now than they had in the past.

"Well," he said, breaking her thoughts with a smile. "It's late. Get the hell out."

Olivia gave him a light pinch in the arm and left the car. As she opened the outer door to her building, she heard someone come up behind her.

Her immediate tension was relieved when she saw Adam holding the door behind her.

"It's one AM on a Friday," she said with eyebrows raised as they entered the elevator. "What are you doing home this early?"

"What are you doing home so late?" he replied with mock agitation.

"I was out cleaning up this city. What's your excuse for being home so early?"

"Well...," he began. "I was 'sposed to meet my girl at this bar on 104th, but she never showed, and when I called her and to tell her I was going home, she said she was at this place on 123rd with a bunch of her girls."

"She stood you up?"

"She says she'll think about coming back down here to see me, but she's probably too drunk to get in a cab by now."

Olivia shook her head. "She'll make it up to you."

"Yeah," he said. "Hey! D’you have still have that book you said was supposed to be good?"

"What? Brown?"

"Yeah, let me borrow it."

"You didn't watch the movie?"

Adam scoffed. "I can't even coordinate a meet-up at the bar with my girl, let alone go the movies. Do you still have it?"

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "You can just have it actually. I didn't really like it."

"Didn't live up to the hype?"

"Not even close."

They chatted in her apartment for a bit while Olivia retrieved the book and she was relieved in having a lighthearted conversation with a man that had nothing to do with work or her own relationship. She cherished each laugh they shared and any meaningful conversation they had that did not remind her of the gloom that stood over her profession.

When Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable” rang from Adam's cell phone, he stared at the number on the phone with a frown.

"Hang on a second," he said to Olivia. "Yeah...what...calm down...well I didn't know...you shoulda called me the sec-...okay, okay...just calm down...Girl, calm down. I’m at my neighbor’s…yeah, I’m in the building…I’ll be right-…my neighbor Liv…yeah, so…Look, I'll be there in a second!"

He hung up his phone and rolled his eyes. "That's Taysia. Apparently, she's been downstairs buzzing my apartment for the last ten minutes and now she's losing her mind down there."

"Wow," Olivia said. "You'd think she would've called you earlier."

"That's what I was saying, but I'll deal with it later. See you and thanks for the book."

Olivia had changed into her slippers and was about to call Jonathan when she heard knock at her door.

"Who is it?" she asked cautiously, the door chain still in place.

"It's Mark."

She rolled her eyes and looked at her watch.

"Mark," she said as she opened the door. "It's almost two in the morning."

"Yeah, sorry," he said. "It's just that...uh...I saw that black guy from the tenth floor down here again, and I just wanted to make sure that he wasn't bothering you or anything."

Olivia sighed and gave an exasperated roll of her eyes that she ensured Mark saw.

"I know you say you don't need me to look out for you, but everybody needs somebody to keep a look out on things. I don't want him bothering you and I could even have the super talk to him too."

"Mark, I don't need-"

"And, I could do something about him too. You know...I know people."

"Look, Mark. There's nothing wrong with Adam. I like him. He's a friend and I know you're concerned, but I can take care of myself. And most importantly, I'm a cop and I don't want to hear anything about any people."

"Okay, okay," he said defensively. "I'm just..."

"You're just looking out for me and I appreciate it, but just...lay-off."

"Okay. Well, have a good night."

"Oh, and Mark."

He turned around expectantly. "Yeah!"

"That black guy's name is Adam, and I think it would do you a lot of good to get to know him."

Olivia then closed her door and locked it immediately. She shook her head thinking about the interruption. Sometimes Mark's sheer nerve and overwhelming ignorance managed to surprise her in new ways every time she came into contact with him.

More notes and things

Flight, a novel ~ Part One - Chapter Three

Saturday January 13, 2007

Woodside, New York

7:38 AM

Elliot was running from his squad car, tears burning in his eyes.

How could this have happened?

He shoved uniformed officers out of his way; male or female, he did not care. His child, his only son! How could this have happened?

Red and blue flashing lights blinded his already blurred vision momentarily as he came onto a clearing in Tompkins Square Park. A white sheet covered the form of something small lying on the ground and Elliot ran to it feeling his heart burn from the strain of its own rapid beat.

Olivia stood next to the form on the ground. "Elliot...wait," she said with eyes wet.

Elliot would not listen to her and pushed against her until she too moved out of his way. He pulled back the sheet and let out a cry of terror and absolute anguish. His son, his only son, lied on the ground, violated and strangled. His blue eyes were glazed and empty and his sun-touched skin appeared grey in the flashing light.

Elliot pulled Dickie's lifeless body to him and shivered against his son's cold skin. He never had a chance to say he was sorry for the past night. He never had a moment to talk to his son again, to tell him everything was okay, to tell him that he loved him. Tears flowed from his eyes like rivers and Olivia's outward sob was completely overshadowed by his scream upward to the heavens as if asking Why with his tears.

************************************************************

Elliot sat upright in his darkened bedroom completely covered in sweat. His breath was coming in jagged huffs and his hands were shaking. He looked around quickly and sighed realizing he had just awakened from a terrible dream.

It was the not first time he had had the nightmare that he found one of his own children murdered in the city, and like all the others, this one was specifically related to his current most troubling case.

Elliot relaxed and fell back against his bed to face the ceiling. He glanced at his alarm clock and winced. He had wanted to sleep until at least nine o'clock, but his tumultuous thoughts had forced him wide awake. He sighed and closed his eyes becoming quickly chilled from the drying sweat on his body.

He had talked to Dickie prior to speaking with Kathy the previous night and he had wanted to take him to his indoor soccer practice this morning, but Dickie flat out refused. His punishment still fresh in his mind, Dickie had all but said he wanted nothing to do with his father for the time being. Elliot had hoped to patch up things between him and his son on the drive, but as teenagers went, Dickie was not cooperating.

Thoughts of his dream floated back to his mind and bits of psychology classes taken long ago intertwined with the vivid memory. Obviously, he had been worried about Dickie’s safety since he and Olivia had been more or less unsuccessful with finding out any further information on their current killer, but he was still morbidly bemused by how his mind worked. Olivia had been among the many faceless officers, but he did wonder: Where was Kathy? He wondered why his subconscious had not thought to place her on the scene as well, but the sounds of a car with a faulty muffler passing by his apartment drove the thought from his head.

He sighed again and rose from his bed. Neither a good night’s sleep or weekend to sleep past eight were going to be possible as long as the person who had murdered Jacob Lewendale and Connor Whickfield still lurked Manhattan’s streets. He would go to the gym early and hope to run and weight lift the memories of his past dream out of his mind…for the time being.

************************************************************

Schreider’s Café

21 West 8th Avenue

7:54 AM

Olivia sat at a booth in the small restaurant, tucked away from the majority of the milling crowd, and took a sip of her two-sugared black coffee. She got to the café early to make sure she got a table out of the way just in case Kathleen’s intended conversation turned to something she would just as soon not have uttered to a restaurant full of people.

The café was filled mostly with college students taking in their last moments of freedom before having to return to classes the next Tuesday. She was surprised to see the place as crowded as it was on a Saturday morning and she wondered just how and why Kathleen picked the restaurant in particular.

While it was located a ways from Kathleen’s own home, it was also well-removed from the 1-6, which reduced the likelihood that she and Olivia would be seen by anyone who knew her. She had put a lot of thought into this meeting and Olivia felt her eyebrows furrow slightly as she grew concerned. The restaurant was as far as possible from anyone Elliot’s daughter could know, but in perfect walking distance to Olivia’s apartment. Kathleen had planned the meeting almost too carefully. If Olivia had been as paranoid as Munch, she would have assumed Elliot’s daughter had planned a hit on her for that very moment.

From her booth, Olivia could see the front door of the restaurant and when the doors opened again, she sat up expectantly. Two kids in their twenties walked inside looking like a cup of coffee was the only thing that was going to keep them from falling over while on their feet.

Sighing, she opened the newspaper she bought from a newsstand on her walk to the restaurant. On the second page stood a large article claiming that the NYPD was still stumped as to who had murdered Jacob Lewendale and that the same killer seemed to have struck again with Connor Whickfield. She rolled her eyes wondering who at the 1-6 had made some off-handed comment to a reporter. Reporters would be beating down hers and Elliot’s doors if not by the end of the day, then definitely by Sunday.

Both Jacob and Connor had come from more respectable families and their faces were sure to be spread across the Times and the tabloids alike. Faces like theirs sold newspapers and it irritated her that the public would soon become outraged that the police had yet to find the killer of two blue-eyed boys, but when children were murdered north of 120th Street, interest in justice on their behalf would always seem to diminish.

She set down the paper when the door to the restaurant opened again and she straightened in her seat as Elliot’s daughter walked inside with a slightly worried expression on her face.

Olivia flagged her down and Kathleen broke into a large smile as she hurried to the booth.

“Thanks so much for coming, Olivia,” she said removing her coat and sitting across from her.

“No problem,” Olivia said.

She hoped that Kathleen would simply jump into her intended conversation, but instead she ordered eggs, toast, cantaloupe and orange juice from the stout waiter who appeared the instant Kathleen took her seat.

They made small talk while they waited: Kathleen was doing better in school, staying out of trouble and was looking forward to going to college somewhere warm; Olivia was still seeing the “wealthy guy,” Jonathan; Lizzie was stealing Kathleen’s makeup and Dickie was constantly hogging the remote control at their house; work was tough as usual.

“So, Kathleen,” Olivia said after a half hour of fervently waiting for the other shoe to drop, “what did you want to talk to me about?”

Kathleen set down her fork full of eggs midway on its trip to her mouth and frowned.

“Well…I wanted to just thank you about not saying anything to my parents about last year…”

Olivia pursed her lips as she remembered the incident.

************************************************************

“Why are we here!” Olivia had shouted a year earlier. “It’s so loud, I can’t even think straight!”

“It’s supposed to be loud, Livia!” Maya had shouted in return.

They were seated at a table in a dark, noisy bar in Midtown and as Olivia took a swig of her Apple Martini, she wished that she had declined Maya’s invitation to come out to the newest “it” bar in the city. Maya had wanted her to come so they could, in Maya’s words, “look beautiful and be hit on by younger guys,” but Olivia quickly tired of shouting to have simple conversation and found herself wondering why she indulged Maya as much as she did.

“You’ll have to break up with him eventually,” she said as same song played for the third time that night.

“But, he’s fun and new,” Maya said, moving her shoulders to the music. “And besides, in six months, I probably won’t even know Mason anymore.”

“That’s what you said about that grad student. What was his name…Eric, or something? It was a year before you got rid of him.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “That was an isolated incident. I’m telling you. I give him three months. Six tops!”

Olivia shook her head and laughed. She allowed her eyes to scan the room as she drained her new Long Island Ice Tea. A green-eyed twenty-three year old had bought the drink for her minutes earlier and she quickly brought the tall glass to half full.

Her line of sight hit a flash of hair just beyond Maya’s shoulder, but on the other side of the room. At first, she thought the three and a half drinks splashing in her stomach were taking a far faster toll on her than normal, but as she continued to stare past Maya, Olivia knew she was not seeing things.

“What?” Maya said turning in her chair. “D’you see somebody we know?”

Unable to answer because her mouth now sat gaping, Olivia continued staring at a blonde form dancing with a dark haired man with a large drink in her hand. The blonde girl was twirled by her beau and her eyes crossed the room as she laughed, her drink overtaking its sides as she twirled. Her gaze met Olivia’s and she stopped dead as her eyes grew wide.

Olivia tilted her head forward, her mouth still gaping and still hoping that she was imaging what she was seeing. Elliot’s seventeen-year-old daughter was staring at her from the other side of the room.

“Livia?” Maya said. “What’s wrong?”

She stood, keeping her eyes on Kathleen across the room who had just mouthed “Oh shit” with her own eyes fixed on Olivia.

“Can I get you another?” a different twenty-something said sliding into Olivia’s view.

She scorned at him and quickly tried to get around him to find Kathleen again in the crowds.

“Aw, c’mon,” the boy said. “I love big, brown eyes.”

Olivia brushed past him as he shouted something about her skirt and squeezed through the horde of people until she saw a flicker of long blonde hair nearly sprinting toward the back exit.

Nearly slipping in her heels, she took off across the dance floor and followed Kathleen out the heavy metal door.

“Kathleen!” she shouted into the cold January air. “Don’t make me chase you all the way across this goddamn city!”

Kathleen, several meters away, came to a stop at the mouth of the alley between the bar and club next door to it, and Olivia quickly caught up with her.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Kathleen said continuously, shifting on her feet as Olivia approached her.

“I can’t even believe this!” Olivia yelled staring at Kathleen who, wearing a dress that left very little to the imagination, appeared very pale in cold night air.

“Oh my God. Oh my God, Olivia. Oh my God, Olivia, please don’t tell my dad.”

“That’s the only thing you’re worried about!” Olivia screamed. “You were dancing with a man twice your age and drinking something that would’ve made me too drunk to figure out where I was!”

“I know, I know! And I’m sorry, but please, please don’t tell my dad.”

Olivia put a hand to her forehead as her breath came in quick hyperventilated huffs. She had never been so angry in her life and Kathleen was not even her child.

“Olivia,” Kathleen continued, her breath making wisps of heat in the cold. “This is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this and I swear to God I’ll never do it again, but you can’t tell my dad. He’ll kill me. I know he will.”

“Kathleen,” she began with punctuated words. “I don’t think you understand the severity of what I just saw.”

“I do! Olivia, I-”

“No! You don’t! You’re at a bar rubbing up against a grown man you just met and you’re only worried about getting in trouble with your father. This is…crazy!”

“I came with a bunch of friends, but they all left and I still wanted to have a good time, but I was ready to leave anyway when that guy came and started dancing with me and I was going to just get a cab and go home. I swear to God, I was just about to leave…”

Olivia ran an icy hand over her face and stared at her partner’s child who was looking at her with wet eyes. Sympathy swam over her as she remembered the number of times Elliot looked aggravated or tired over a new situation with Kathleen.

“After all your father did for you after you got caught drunk driving…You’re in here, under aged and drinking like a goddamn sailor.”

The innocence left Kathleen’s face as a mild indignation appeared in her eyes and she folded her arms across her chest.

“Hey!” she said defiantly. “I saw the drink you had in front of you! It was half gone and it was twice the size of mine!”

All sensations of chill vanished from her skin as Olivia suddenly grew hot with bridled rage. Her bottom lip fell for a moment as she glared at Kathleen.

“I’m not seventeen years old, Kathleen! I’m an adult and I can do whatever the hell I want! You’re too young to even be in a club, let alone draining a drink with a grown man!”

“I know, I know,” Kathleen said, taking a step backward. “I…I…”

“How the hell did you even get in there!”

As if on command, Kathleen produced an ID from inside her dress near her shoulder and quickly handed it to Olivia.

Olivia snatched it from her and held it up in the dim light of the alley.

“Who the hell is ‘Laura Stanton?’”

“I…I don’t know. My friend Melissa had them made up. She just asked me for a picture and some money and she got them done. I swear this is the first time I’ve ever used it.”

Olivia stared at the fake license again and glanced at Kathleen vaguely remembering the first fake ID Maya had given to her when they were Kathleen’s age. A part of her thought she was being slightly hypocritical speaking to Kathleen about her actions, when Olivia could remember performing a similar action two decades earlier. One of Maya's sisters had nearly caught her, but Olivia had made it into a cab before Maya's sister caught up with her. Another part of her, however, knew she could not let Kathleen away without some kind of punitive measure.

“All right,” she said. “I’m taking this.

“Yes, absolutely,” Kathleen said nodding her head furiously. “I totally understand.”

Olivia scoffed. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

“Just…for the love of God, Olivia, please. You can’t…You can not tell my dad. He’ll go crazy and not in a good way. Please. You know how he can be. If he finds out, I’m grounded ‘til I’m thirty.”

“And you should be!” Olivia said shaking her head, growing angrier again. “And, if I remember correctly, your father was just telling me a few days ago that you were grounded this weekend for sneaking out of the house last week!”

“I know, which is why you can’t tell him. Please. Olivia, please! I swear to God. I didn’t even want to come out tonight, but my friends…they just kept telling me that this place was opening tonight and that we had to go. I didn’t even want to come because I knew I was grounded.”

“If you knew it was wrong, then why am I freezing my ass off listening to you give this sorry excuse?”

Kathleen pursed her lips and shook slightly, either from the cold or extreme stress; Olivia did not know which.

“I’m so sorry,” Kathleen continued. “And I swear on my life, I’ll never do anything like this again, but…just take the ID. It cost me two hundred dollars and that was all the money I’d saved for months, but please…Please! Please don’t tell my dad. I’m begging you. He can’t find out about this.”

Olivia put her head to her forehead wishing she had accepted the drink from the boy in the bar.

“Livia?” she heard Maya’s voice call a minute later.

“I’m here, Maya,” she said never taking her eyes off Kathleen.

“What the hell?” Maya said. “That guy bought us both drinks even though you took off. What are you doing out here?”

Kathleen’s eyes grew wider at the thought of another party privy to her lapse in judgment. Olivia simply shook her head and sighed as Maya approached them.

“Who’s this?” Maya asked brightly.

“Kathleen, this is Maya,” Olivia said in a low voice. “Maya, this is Kathleen…Elliot’s daughter.”

“Oh!” Maya said starting to smile, but then the situation quickly dawned on her and her smile quickly faded. “Oh…Okay…Well, I’ll be up by the door for a bit.”

Olivia glared at Kathleen who was staring back, eyes turning pink and very pale.

“Please?” Kathleen repeated. “I’ll give you anything-”

“You don’t have anything I want.”

“I’ll do anything. Anything you want, but please don’t tell my dad.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Well, the first thing you can do is apologize for ruining my night…”

“I’m so sorry,” Kathleen said quickly. “I’m so, so sorry. And, I swear I’ll never do anything like this again. I swear to God.”

“All right. That’s enough swearing for one night,” Olivia said ushering her toward the sidewalk. “I’m putting you in cab and you’re going straight home. And, I expect to hear that you’ve been doing things to help out your mom over these next couple of weeks too. I should be able to say to your dad, ‘Hey. How’s Kathleen doing?’ and I better hear something like, ‘Well, she’s been doing the dishes and the laundry and doing everything she can to help her mom around the house.’”

“You will,” Kathleen said nodding her head again. “I sw-…I promise.”

Olivia managed to hail a cab quickly and pulled some bills out of her purse. “This should get you back home. You have my cell and I want you to call me from your house phone the second you get back there.”

“I will. I will. The second I get through the door.”

“And I assume you won’t be going anywhere for the next three weekends. Right?”

“I won’t be going anywhere,” Kathleen said still nodding her head as she got into the cab. “I’m going to Queens, please.”

“I’m not doing boroughs,” the cab driver said turning toward her.

Olivia rolled her eyes and slid twenty dollars through the slot in the plastic partition. “You are for now…And, Kathleen. As long as you keep up your end of our little bargain, I won’t tell your father, but if I hear about one slip up…”

Kathleen pursed her lips and her eyes looked tearful once more. “I promise, Olivia. Just please…please…”

“I won’t,” Olivia said. “Now, go home.”

“Thank God,” Maya said the moment Kathleen’s cab had driven down the street. “It’s about time. It’s two degrees out here! C’mon, I know the bouncer. I’ll get us back in and we won’t even have to pay the cover.”

“No,” Olivia said shaking her head again. “I’m…I’m done for the night. That was just a little too much reality for my Saturday.”

Another passenger-less cab appeared as if on cue and Olivia quickly backed toward it.

“I’ll call you,” she said to Maya. “But, um, find my coat in there if you can though. I just got that from Barney’s…”

************************************************************

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t speak of it again?” Olivia said, snapping out of her reverie.

“Right, right,” Kathleen said bouncing in her seat slightly. “Well, I don’t know if my dad said anything to you or not, but I’ve been dating this guy, Mike, for a while now…”

Olivia tilted her head in Kathleen’s direction. “Okay…?”

“And…” Kathleen refused to meet Olivia’s eyes any longer. “We’ve been…talking for a long time about our…uh…relationship and stuff.”

Olivia nodded her head and bit her lip. A knot appeared in her stomach and she suddenly had the light taste of bile at the back of her throat. She knew exactly where the conversation was heading and she immediately wished she had spoken to Elliot earlier. Perhaps then, Kathleen would have been forced to find another confidante.

“Well,” Kathleen said so soft Olivia could just barely hear her. “I was just wondering if maybe…maybe you could give me some advice on birth control or something.”

Olivia swallowed the coffee she had let sit in her mouth and took a deep breath. “Birth control?”

Kathleen nodded at her with eyes wide and expectant.

“You know, Kathleen,” Olivia began, “this is really something you should talk about with your parents.”

She and Kathleen stared at one another for a moment, simultaneously thinking that a conversation about birth control with Elliot would be nothing short of a disaster.

“I mean, your mother, at least,” she added quickly.

“I know,” Kathleen said, pushing her eggs around her plate. “I tried, but Mom just keeps trying to talk me out of it. She won’t even listen to me. It’s not like I’m gonna go race off to sleep with him. I just want to know stuff and she keeps changing the conversation to my grades instead.”

“Well, it’s ‘cause she wants what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, but when I say that we’ve talked about it, Mike and me, she says we’re too young and that we just shouldn’t. She doesn’t even want to talk about the ‘What if.’”

Olivia stared at the eighteen-year-old girl sitting across from her. She remembered the feeling of wanting so badly to go to her own mother about this same scenario and knowing it was not even a possibility. Her mother only allowed her to spend much of her childhood and teen years with Maya and her family because she wanted Olivia to learn another language and culture. Outside of the Shah family, Olivia’s mother did not want her associating with anyone, especially boys.

“And, I can’t talk to Maureen about it,” Kathleen continued. “ ‘Cause she’ll just go into big-sister-protection-mode, and I know she’ll go straight to Mom and Dad.” She paused. “Olivia, I wouldn’t’ve bothered you, but I need to talk to someone about this and I…I just didn’t want to go to any of my friends because sooner or later it would be all over school and I just don’t need that right now.”

“Kathleen, you are not a bother to me. You can always come to me. Anytime, with anything. It’s just that…” Olivia allowed her voice to trail unsure how best to proceed. If Elliot knew what she was even considering to discuss with his daughter, he would throw a violent fit, if she were lucky. He and Kathy might just get back together in their mutual hatred for her upon finding out about this discussion.

“Well,” she said unable to disguise the resignation in her voice. “Have you two talked about it? I mean, really talked about it.”

“Yes,” Kathleen said nearly shouting. “We’re in love.”

Olivia suppressed a roll of her eyes remembering that not too long ago, Kathleen was in “love” with a completely different boy.

“Okay,” she said. “But, you know you can be in love with someone without having sex.”

Kathleen sighed and set down her fork, pouting slightly. Olivia was losing her and she knew that if she did not give some advice, any advice, Elliot would most likely become a young grandfather.

“Well,” Olivia continued, “if you two really think you’re ready…” Her voiced trailed again and she looked down at her half empty coffee cup, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation.

She had gone to her far more experienced friends back when she decided that she was ready to have sex and she silently wished Kathleen had done the same. Olivia never had an older woman in which she could confide and she never spoke to her own mother about sex. Not once. There was also the issue of Kathleen’s mother. Olivia felt a hot flash as she thought about how irresponsible it was for Kathy to refuse to discuss this with her daughter. She knew that Elliot and Kathy got pregnant when they were not much older than Kathleen and one would think that Kathy would do everything in her power to make sure the same thing did not happen to her own daughter.

Kathleen sat still eyeing her expectantly and Olivia knew her only options were to either dispense advice or allow Kathleen to go off on her own.

She sighed, suddenly too warm and the knot in her stomach growing tighter. “What were you two thinking of for protection?”

“I figured just condoms, but I heard that guys don’t really like them, so I was wondering if there was anything else.”

“In the end,” Olivia said, “it’s not a matter of whether or not they like condoms. It’s a matter of protecting yourself.”

“I know,” Kathleen said slightly dejected and pushing her eggs around her plate again.

“Are you sure?” Olivia said. Perhaps she could put Kathleen on the defensive or maybe scare her just enough to make her rethink the decision. “Because it’s not just pregnancy you have to worry about. There’s Herpes, AIDS, Hepatitis, Gonorrhea, Syphilis. The list goes on. Condoms are your only protection against STDs. Well, besides not having sex.”

Kathleen simply nodded. “Okay, so we should just use condoms then? You know, until I know he doesn’t have anything.”

Olivia shook her head. “Your birth control should not be an “either-or” option. It’s more like…uh, your fall back, in case the condom breaks.”

“They break?” Kathleen said, her eyes wide.

“Yeah, they do,” she said as she quickly recalled an unfortunate experience in college when said event happened to her. “More often than you’d think.”

“Whoa, I didn’t know that. Why don’t they tell you these things in school?”

Olivia shrugged. “I guess that’s why I’m here.”

Kathleen gave her a big smile and Olivia continued.

“Okay, so first thing’s first: the both of you have to get tested for any STDs.”

“But this’ll be the first time for either of us,” Kathleen said, her eyes almost dreamlike.

Olivia paused a moment, trying her best to put the idea into perspective for a teenager. “I’m not saying anything against…Mike, but there’s no real way to tell if a boy’s had sex or not.”

“But, he said-”

“Okay. If he says he’s a virgin, fine, but this way, you’ll both know for sure. If you both get tested at the same time, it’ll be like…I don’t know…a bonding experience for the two of you. Just imagine the relief of knowing for an absolute certainty that you’re both free of anything.”

Kathleen stared at her plate, but nodded her head.

“Kathleen,” Olivia said. “If he loves you, he’ll agree.” She immediately felt bad for saying it. There was a real possibility that Kathleen and her boyfriend could very well be as much in love as kids their age could be, but he could become completely aggravated at Kathleen for even suggesting that he could pass an STD onto her.

Kathleen gave her a small smirk, but still stared at her plate.

“So,” Olivia continued. “Like I said, condoms are an absolute must. I suggest latex Trojans.”

“And they protect against everything right?”

“Yes, as long as they don’t break. But you’ve got to get the latex ones. There are sheepskin ones out there and they just barely keep you from getting pregnant.”

“Latex,” Kathleen said finally meeting Olivia’s eyes. “Got it.” She looked as if she were making a list in her head as Olivia spoke.

“Right. So, there’s lots of different birth control types. There’s the pill, of course.” Olivia felt herself launching into a readied mantra for this discussion. She had given the birth control talk to several other young girls who had come to her looking for someone they knew they could trust, and she almost had the entire conversation memorized.

“But,” she said. “There’s also the patch, hormonal injections and the ring. Plus, there’s also-”

“Well, which one do you use?” Kathleen interrupted.

Olivia felt her face grow slightly warm. “I use a combination of things. I use the pill, and condoms and I have a diaphragm.”

“Diaphragm. That’s like a condom for girls, right?”

“Not exactly. It fits inside of you and you have to use a spermacide to make sure it’s effective. And it’s not something you can just pick up at the drug store. You have to be fitted for one with a gynecologist.”

Kathleen sighed. “That means I’d have to go through my parents to get one, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” Olivia said, knowing what was coming next. “Yes, it would.”

“But, I wouldn’t need them with the pill?” Kathleen asked.

“You would still need a prescription from your doctor, but…” She wanted to say that Kathleen could get the pill without her parents knowing, but the words could not come. She could vividly imagine the argument with Elliot and probably Kathy too, if, no when they found out that she had given their daughter advice on birth control, and helped deceive them in the process. She was about to change the subject onto how the pill should be taken, but Kathleen made the connection regardless.

“I could get it without them knowing about it?”

Olivia simply nodded her head. Somehow nodding did not feel like she was actually giving Kathleen the green light to get around her parents.

“And you use the pill and condoms and a diaphragm…at the same time?”

It was Olivia’s turn to sigh. The conversation was becoming far more complicated than she had hoped and far more than she had been wanting for a Saturday morning. She did not want to lie to Kathleen, but she was not sure she was prepared to tell her about her own experiences.

“If I’m dating someone,” she began, “and we’ve both been tested, and we’ve been together for a very long time…we might…might not use a condom. But, I always take my pill and I’ve only ditched the condom when I knew for certain that he didn’t have anything and if…”

“If?” Kathleen pressed.

“…if the moment warranted it,” she said in quick succession. “But, again, I always take my pill.”

“Okay,” Kathleen said nodding and visibly adding to her mental list. “So, which one do you use?”

“Well…there’s lots of them out there-”

“But, which one do you use?”

“Nordette. There are several generic brands of it, but it works for me.”

“Why do you use the pill? ‘Cause the other day, one of the girls in locker room was showing off her birth control patch and she said that most people use it.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. At times she forgot about the absolute ignorance of teenaged girls, running around and parading just how sexually active they were. “I use the pill because I know it works. It’s been around forever and I know it’s effective and it’s safe.”

Kathleen nodded. “What about, like, weight gain and stuff? I heard the pill makes you fat.”

“Old wives’ tale,” Olivia said. “It happens some times, but as active as you are, I doubt you’ll have much to worry about.”

“Did you? I mean, when you first started taking it?”

Olivia shook her head. “No, but your hips are going to get a little wider, because the pill basically makes your body think it’s pregnant until you take the placebo pills and you get your period.”

Kathleen’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of placebo pills and Olivia continued. “If you decide on the pill, you’ll get them in this 28-day pack. The first twenty-one will be the actual birth control pills. The ones with the hormone. The last seven will be placebo pills and once you’re done with those, you’ll get your period.”

“Okay,” Kathleen said nodding again. “So, I’m gonna have wide hips?”

Olivia smiled. “Well, not so much that it’ll be automatically noticeable, but yes. But, on the plus side, your cramps will be very light and you won’t have any pimples.”

“So, what else? Do I just take them in the morning or what?”

“You start taking them on the Sunday before your period or the first day of it.”

“Why Sunday?”

“Tried and true practice, I suppose. I guess since it’s the first day of the week, it’s easier to keep track of yourself that way.”

“Is that what you did?”

“Yep. And you have to make sure you take it every, single day, at the exact same time.”

“Oh. Or, what happens if you don’t?”

“Well, then you’re gonna get pregnant.” She hated having to be so blunt with Kathleen, but she still half-hoped that she could talk Kathleen out of considering sex with her “love.” Olivia also figured she would have a much easier time trying to relay this conversation to Elliot, if she could be certain that Kathleen got the full message. “Missing a pill here or there is how most of the kids in this world are born.”

Kathleen stared at Olivia with wide eyes. “Okay, so every day. Don’t miss it.”

“Right.”

“What time do you take yours?”

“I take mine everyday at seven in the morning. But, I suggest you take it at a time you’ll know you won’t miss it. Maybe it’ll be better for you to take it at night or before you go to bed. Just as long as you take it at the same time everyday.”

“Like, to the minute or-”

“Within an hour, or else you’re just asking for trouble.”

“Okay. So, how long does it take before…you know.”

“It takes at least…fourteen days before it’s effective,” Olivia lied. She knew it was seven days and she knew there was a strong possibility that Kathleen knew it was seven days, but Kathleen seemed to be taking her every word at heart. Perhaps if she had to wait a little longer, maybe there would be time to talk her out of it or at least get her to talk to her parents.

“But,” Olivia continued, “to be on the safe side, you should wait until you’re on it for about a month. That way you know how your body will react to it.”

“A month?”

Olivia nodded. “‘Fraid so. But, at least after a month, you’ll know that you’re absolutely ready.”

Kathleen nodded to herself. “You said the pill was like something to fall back on. Does it sometimes stop working?”

“Well, no method of birth control is a hundred percent effective. Only abstinence.”

“But, I mean, it’s safer than other things right?”

“If you take it diligently, every day at the same time, then it’s about ninety-eight to ninety-nine percent effective.”

“And what happens the other two percent of the time?”

Olivia shrugged. “Anything can happen. The pill is supposed to keep your body from releasing an egg. Sometimes, it doesn’t.”

Kathleen sighed. “That just doesn’t seem fair. I mean, if you’re taking it everyday like you’re supposed to…”

“Well, like I said, nothing is a hundred percent. Even in cases where women have had their tubes tied, they still end up getting pregnant. It’s one of those mysteries of life, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Kathleen said, lost in thought.

Silence fell between them and Kathleen started nibbling on her toast. Olivia felt the worst was over, but she wanted to get out all of the possibilities then instead of dealing with dozens of calls in the coming weeks that she would have to hide from Elliot.

“You have any other questions? Anything else you want to know?”

“No, not really,” Kathleen said matter-of-factly.

“Okay,” Olivia said. “If you have any other questions, just let me know.”

“Yeah. I will.”

Kathleen looked at her watch and started to gather her things. “I’m about to be late for Dickie.” She took out her wallet.

“No, no,” Olivia said holding up her hand. “It’s all on me. Do you need a ride back?”

“No, I’m okay. I drove,” she said with a big smile. “Thanks Olivia.”

“No problem at all.”

She started to walk away, but then stopped and returned to the booth.”

“You’re not gonna tell my dad about this are you? ‘Cause if he finds out-”

“I won’t,” Olivia said unsure of how true the statement was. “I promise.”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“Oh, and Kathleen,” Olivia said as she started to walk away again. “Please…please come talk to me before you do anything okay?”

Kathleen nodded and took several steps away from the table, but turned around and sat back in her seat. “Wo…would you come with? To go to the doctor’s office. You know, to get the prescription?”

“Well, if you decide you don’t want your mom or Maureen to go with you…yes. Just tell me when and where.”

Kathleen smiled and came around the table to hug Olivia. “Okay, now I really do have to go. Thank you so much, Olivia.”

“Anytime.”

After Kathleen left her presence, Olivia’s thoughts fell immediately upon her partner. In the past, she had seen him literally enraged due to happenings at work. Criminals who walked free, leads that went nowhere, lives lost or corrupted forever. However, she knew that everything else took a backseat in comparison to his children.

He's going to literally kill me when he finds out, she thought as she paid the bill. Both he and Kathy.

Instead of walking back to her apartment, Olivia decided that she should go to Elliot's to judge his mood. If he was feeling more upbeat, she would hint to her conversation with Kathleen. If he was already in a bad mood, she would just bring up their current cases. She mentally considered the trains she would take to get Woodside and then checked her wallet to see if she had enough cash to take a cab from the 52nd Street stop to Elliot's apartment on 50th. As she came upon the stop at West 8th, however, she continued walking instead of descending the stone steps toward the train.

The air was cold and her face was stiff against the January wind. Her body was tense throughout and her head suddenly hurt at the realization of what had happened that morning occurred to her.

Throughout the entirety of her partnership with Elliot, never had she willingly deceived him, especially in regards to his children. There had been personal instances that she wanted few people outside of Maya to know about, but she had never lied to him and though she had yet to do so, she knew it was coming.

Her insides squirmed at the thought of Elliot's rage at finding out she had lied to him and she wanted to cry. It seemed so simple and yet, it was so serious at the same time. She and Elliot still walked a rocky road as partners and this was just the type of thing that would make them worse than where they were earlier.

After a while of thinking and walking, Olivia found herself on 1st Avenue, just below 7th Street. She looked around for a moment, shocked that she had walked to the Lower East Side without even noticing. She considered whether she would retrace her steps and get on the train at Astor Place or continue South and get on at East 2nd. She decided since the stations were equidistant from her, Astor Place would be best because it would be a shorter ride to Queens, and as she turned to walk back toward the train station, she heard someone yelling.

"Help!" a man’s voice yelled. "Someone please! I think he’s hurt!"

The voice came from the direction of Avenue A and Olivia turned and ran instinctively toward the sound.

A number of people had gathered around an alley halfway toward Avenue A and she flashed her badge as she tried pushing her way through to the front of the crowd.

"'Scuse me!" she said. "N-Y-P-D. Let me through."

"Oh God!" the same voice said again. "I think he's dead."

Olivia came to a clearing in the alley and saw a man crouched over a large box that sat against a building. As she slowly approached the box, the knot in her stomach that had eased slightly from her breakfast with Kathleen twisted tight as matted brown hair could be seen just at the top of the box. She reached the box and saw the form a young boy, folded into the box with skin so ghostly white that it sent a chill down her spine.

************************************************************

Elliot sighed as he pulled his car close to the menagerie of parked NYPD squad cars that lined East 7th Street. For the third time in two weeks, he was forced to view the body of a boy just his son's age and for the third time in two weeks he was in the same part of the city investigating what he knew was just the beginning of a manhunt.

He walked toward the alley, through the crowd of people that had gathered in the street, and through the police barricades to the crime scene. Once in the alley he saw Melinda making notes over a brown box that sat against one of the buildings. She looked up as he approached and simply shook her head.

"It's the same guy," she said. "I'm sure of it. Same ligature marks, same amount of bruising. Plus, he's gone back to the box."

"Is the box marked with anything special?" Elliot said deadpan. "I mean is it from a store around here?"

"No. It's completely blank, but so was the first one."

He sighed. "How are we on an ID?"

"Still nothing, but he fits the same bill as the others. White male, about twelve or thirteen."

Elliot nodded. "Where's Olivia?"

"She's over there," Melinda said pointing to the other side of the street, "talking to the homeless guy who found him."

Elliot stared at the boy, studying every facet of how he was set in the box and anything on and around the box, before walking in Olivia's direction. She had called him that morning saying that another boy had been found, but she did not have a lot of details that usually came with hearing about the case from an officer at the scene.

Olivia stood with her back slightly curved and hunching toward the shorter man who stood beside her. He was speaking rapidly and appeared looked as if he had not slept indoors in quite some time.

"I just ain't never seen a dead kid before," the man said his eyes wide.

Olivia nodded as she scribbled something on her notepad and upon eyeing Elliot, she told the man to speak to a set of uniformed officers who could get him a cup of coffee.

"Homeless guy was digging through some trashcans in an alley," she began, "and found the victim in a box. He actually flagged me down when he found him."

Elliot squinted at her in the cold sunlight. "What were you doing around here?"

She froze a moment and stared at him before replying. "I was...uh...meeting a friend for breakfast and just started walking. I didn't even realize where I was going until I got all the way over here."

He nodded and stared at her unsure of what she was hiding. They had worked together long enough for him to know when she was not being entirely truthful with him. "We know anything about the victim yet?"

"No," she said quickly. "But, as I'm sure Melinda told you it's more than likely that it's the same guy who murdered Connor Whickfield and Jacob Lewendale. I'm also willing to bet he probably played indoor soccer in the city."

Elliot looked back toward the street that was quickly filling with curious passers-by. "You know Drover lives on 14th Loop?"

Olivia stared at him, eyebrows high. "You looked up his address?"

He nodded, but continued. "Last night, after I dropped you off, I went back and started a file on him."

"Why?"

"Just thought it was necessary. We'll be talking to him anyway about what he knew about the other kids."

She stared at him suspiciously. "Why even bring it up now?"

Elliot shrugged. "Just thought it was interesting. This is the third kid we've found in this area and Drover lives just up the way."

"Six blocks away," she corrected.

"Still though..."

"Still though," she said sardonically, "a hundred thousand people live between here and 14th Loop and anyone in the city has access to this alley."

Elliot nodded and changed the subject. "We should look at Missing Persons to see if-"

"Munch and Fin are already on it," she interrupted. "I had images of the boy sent to them and they'll be calling me in a bit to let me know if they find a match to him in the system."

"I see," he said walking back to the body.

He was not going to mention that he had gone back to the office the previous night and he had hoped that he could go a few days without Olivia learning that he had started some paperwork on Drover.

Best laid plans of mice and men, he thought to himself as he walked.

Regardless of their previous conversation, Elliot knew there was more to Drover than what Connor Whickfield's teammates had said. There was that air about him that went beyond gut feeling and he knew the sooner he started the documentation on Drover, the sooner they would be able to start talking to him. He also wanted to keep Olivia from knowing because he hated the look of pity in her eyes each time the realization of how his life had changed fell upon them. At a time not too long ago, Elliot would have dropped Olivia off at home and raced to his own house to spend the precious little time he could with his family. Now, however, things were different.

The detectives spent another hour at the scene, noting every thing possible about it and getting information about the crime from Melinda. Elliot could hear Olivia calling Jonathan to cancel a long-planned lunch date as their crime scene analyses continued past noon and he made a mental note to call his youngest daughter later that day to tell her about the ballet tickets he got from Olivia.

"Benson," Elliot heard Olivia say into her phone a while later. "Okay, hang on a sec...Schrader? That was 266...okay...wait, who's Vonnex?...Oh, okay...I got it. We'll notify them."

She hung up her phone. "That was Munch. The victim is Ricky Schrader and his parents filed a Missing Persons report on Thursday."

"Lemme guess," Elliot said. "He's from the Upper West Side, too?"

"West 75th."

"Three murders in less than fourteen days...something tells me this guy's just getting started."

"Let's notify the parents and get a positive ID," she said, "then we can compare all three of them."

Elliot nodded and they drove to the West Side in silence, neither of them forgetting their most recent argument on Drover. Olivia only broke the silence once to tell Elliot that Ricky Schrader was in the child welfare system and had been staying with his foster parents, Jack and Eileen Vonnex. Their silence was more of a quiet preceding a greater storm.

Once they contacted the family of the most recent victim, Drover's name would most definitely come up in the conversation and it would most likely launch another argument. If Drover came up for the second time in their investigation, they would be forced to look at him in regards to the first murder and interrogate him altogether. One detective was going to be proved right, the other wrong, and both hated to be the latter.

"Oh my God," Mr. Vonnex said once Elliot delivered the news that Ricky Schrader had been murdered. "He just...he was just..."

Mr. Vonnex sat down on the sofa next to his wife who sat her mouth gaping and tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Olivia said.

"He'd run away," Mrs. Vonnex said quickly. "He usually came back the next morning, but when he didn't come home..."

"Did Ricky run away a lot?" Olivia asked.

Mrs. Vonnex nodded and readied herself to launch into a lengthy story. Olivia had arrived at the Vonnexes expecting to hear that Ricky Schrader was a perfect angel, but the idea that he had previously run away from home had her intrigued.

"We tried everything we could to make sure Ricky felt like he was part of the family, but he just didn't seem to want to," Mrs. Vonnex said. "We knew he'd been bounced back and forth from his mother to other families and we'd hoped he'd think of this as home."

"But he never did?" Olivia asked.

"He kept running away," Mr. Vonnex said. "Back to his mother. She'd allow her boyfriends to hurt him, but he still kept going back to her."

"How long would he stay at his mother's?" Elliot said.

Mrs. Vonnex wiped her eyelashes. "Not more than a day. He'd be back by dinner all the time. We’d give him some spending money, you know an allowance, but he never had any money. When we asked him about it, he told us he'd been paying for cabs to go see his mother."

"That's what he said," Mr. Vonnex continued. "But, Ricky's been having some problems with smoking and drugs. One of our friends even caught him on the Lower East Side one day doing Lord knows what."

"But, he was doing better," Mrs. Vonnex interrupted. "He's been more interested in school and in soccer." She turned directly to Olivia as if pleading with her. "He's been so hesitant to get active, but we knew he'd be good at soccer. And he is. He really is. He's just been starting to apply himself to it. He's really been getting into it..."

Olivia repressed a sigh. Mrs. Vonnex still referred to her foster son in the present tense and Olivia knew the difficult times awaiting the woman once she came to realize what had truly happened.

"He really is a good boy," Mrs. Vonnex said. "He's just had it so hard and it's difficult for kids his age to adjust to changes like these."

"How long did you have Ricky with you?" Olivia asked.

"Almost three years. His mother...she'd beaten him severely, again and he called the police on her. Thank God for that. Then ACS took him away from her and he came to live with us." She let out a sob. "We just tried so hard...and now he's gone."

Mr. Vonnex put his arm around his wife and allowed her to weep on his shoulder.

"You said Ricky played soccer," Elliot began. "Did he play in the Tri-State Indoor Soccer Association?"

Mr. Vonnex nodded.

"Does the name Jeffrey Drover sound familiar?"

Mr. Vonnex glanced between the detectives and his eyebrows furrowed. "No. I can't say that I've ever heard that name. Why? Do you think he would know what happened to Ricky?"

Elliot and Olivia exchanged looks and Elliot continued. "The manner in which Ricky's been found...we have several cases still open where boys Ricky's age have been found and had been killed the same way. We're just trying to make a connection between them."

Mr. Vonnex shook his head. "I don't remember anyone by that name."

"The team Ricky played on," Olivia said. "Did they have an athletic trainer or a set of assistant coaches?"

"No," he said. "Ricky was just getting into the sport and they wouldn't've had trainers at his level."

Olivia nodded and glanced at Elliot again.

"Do you know where Ricky's mother lives?" Elliot asked. "I know you said someone had found him on the Lower East Side, but did you have any other information."

"No," Mr. Vonnex said. "We're not even certain that she lived down there. We didn't know anything about her, except that she did drugs in front him and beat him when he tried to get her off the stuff."

"At least," Mrs. Vonnex said, tears now covering her face in shining glaze, "at least, she can't hurt him anymore."

************************************************************

Fin Tutuola sat staring at the flat-panel monitor that stood on his desk, wondering how best to word the information he had received that day. The latest case that had come to him involved an Ethiopian woman who was admitted to a hospital having been raped and beaten. She had insisted that she was not hurt, but Fin had managed to get her to say that someone in her family had hurt her. He was about to get her to name her attacker when her immense family appeared at her side and informed Fin that she just had a bad fall. The woman later changed her story and insisted that she simply fell, however while her mouth said that she was not raped, Fin knew from past experience and the expression in her eyes that someone who most likely stood by her bedside, had hurt her and would probably do so again.

A small investigation would ensue in hopes of getting the victim to talk, but they would eventually end up closing the case having no complaining witness for whom they would appeal justice. While it happened far too often, Fin still did not know how best to notate the case to say that, yet again, the victim recanted her statement and the detectives would be moving on to more pressing cases.

He set his hands on the keyboard to type as he saw John Munch doing the same. Munch had made a last ditch effort with the victim again that day, but he had been refused entrance to the premises. He was angered with the entire case from beginning to end, though he was not sure what bothered him more: the fact that no justice would be received for the victim or the fact that it was the victim's family who was preventing the rapist from being apprehended.

"Detectives," Melinda said entering the squad room and halting the fast-moving fingers of Munch and Fin.

“What’s up, Doc?” Munch said.

"I've been looking for Elliot and Olivia, but I think they're with the latest victim's family because neither one of them is answering their phone."

Munch looked at the small clock on his desk, never quite trusting the clock in his computer task bar, and frowned. "They've been over there for a couple hours now. The parents are probably going on about how much of an angel this one was too."

"That's kinda cold," Fin said.

"The parents always say that their kids are angels and then we come to find out that their kids are murdering their peers because they didn’t fit in or having wild sex parties at thirteen or…beating their siblings to a pulp for no good reason. If these kids were as angelic as their parents said they were, we wouldn’t have a job, would we?”

Fin shook his head. “Don’t mind him,” he said to Melinda. “He’s just venting about our latest case. What’ve you got?”

She nodded. “More information on this string of murders. When I was doing the autopsy on Jacob Lewendale, I found some fingerprints that weren't in the system."

"I thought you said you had new information," Munch interjected.

"But, I noticed," she continued as if he had not spoken, "that they were smaller than a full grown man's hand. More like the size of a preteen kid."

"The boy's?" Fin said.

Melinda shook her head. "That's what I thought at first, but when I ran his prints, they weren't a match. Well, when the second victim was found, I saw smaller fingerprints again. So, just out of curiosity, I cross referenced the prints of the first two victims." She pulled out a piece of paper and showed it to Munch. "Connor Whickfield's prints are all over Jacob Lewendale."

"Connor killed Jacob?" Fin said eyes narrowed at the doctor.

"No," she said. "The bruising that looks like hand prints on Jacob isn’t a match for Connor's hands. They're far too big, not to mention that the same exact marks are found on Connor himself. But..." She pulled out another sheet of paper and showed it to Fin. "This newest victim, Ricky Schrader, his prints are all over Connor Whickfield."

Silence fell over the detectives and the medical examiner as the magnitude of what she said was appreciated.

The matter understood, Fin broke the silence. "The killer made his newer victims help kill the older ones."

************************************************************

Elliot's drive across the river had been somewhat peaceful, though images of his dream from earlier that day continued to spring back into his mind. His son was still not speaking to him and Kathleen had called him that afternoon to tell him such. He wondered if the tone of her voice when she spoke was frustration from his marital situation or aggravation over him in general. Either way, he did not detect anything off about her as Kathy had suggested.

He pulled into the last empty spot on his street and was in his apartment several minutes later. The day seemed to drag on forever and the general unpleasantness that seemed to follow him throughout the day was exemplified by the fact that Drover had had no contact with Ricky Schrader.

Elliot had been so sure about Drover. He and Olivia had investigated cases with child molesters who looked just like Drover and based on his demeanor those few days ago, he was worth bringing into the squad room to interrogate.

At the desk in his apartment, he made some notes to remind himself that he and Olivia needed to check up on a few of their other open cases. They had caught the cases for two women over the past week and neither of their rapists had yet been apprehended. Both women had been attacked in alleys, though one on the Lower East Side and the other in Spanish Harlem. There was DNA analysis available for both cases, but matches only appeared for one of the victims and even that match still gave he and Olivia very little information to proceed.

He was about to get in the shower when the phone rang.

"Stabler," he said into the phone.

"Daddy?" a young female voice said.

"Hey, Lizzie," he said with a smile.

"Elizabeth," Lizzie said sternly.

"Oh," he laughed. "Sorry...Elizabeth."

"It's fine, Daddy. Just try to remember."

"Why 'Elizabeth' all of a sudden?" he asked.

"Because, it's my name and besides, Lizzie's like a baby name, you know?"

"Well, you’re my baby..."

"Oh come on, Daddy," she said her voice drawling. "We're not really babies."

"Okay, okay," he said. "Hey! I wanted to tell you. Since you didn't want to go to that game with Dickie and Me the other day, I got some tickets to the Sleeping Beauty ballet."

"Sleeping Beauty?"

"Yeah. You think you'd be interested?"

She was silent for a few moments. "Yeah...that sounds cool. When is the ballet?"

"Middle of February."

"Hmm..."

"What's wrong?" he asked. "You don't want to go?"

"No, I want to go it's just that..."

"What is it?"

"Well, I just have this feeling that...that you're gonna end up canceling on me or something."

Elliot opened his mouth, but he could not speak. He wanted to tell his youngest daughter that he would not cancel on her; that he would be there for her; that he would pick her up for the ballet promptly at seven, but he knew he could not. He had missed more piano recitals and school choir performances than he cared to remember and there was nothing that he could say to Lizzie to reassure her that he would not cancel on her. With this latest string of murders not withstanding, there were always new victims coming through the SVU, and, the job would come first.

"I'm not going to cancel on you," he lied.

"Really?"

"Seriously," he said. "Through hell or high water, I'll be at the house to pick you up at seven PM."

"Okay, Daddy," she said and Elliot could hear a smile on her voice. "Well, cool. Anyways, I wanted to know if you could talk to Olivia about her piano music."

"Yeah, sure. You want some more?"

"Well, I've got that recital coming up in a few months and I just wanted something cooler to play and I know she said she'd played some cool stuff at her recitals back in the day."

Elliot laughed. "I'll definitely ask her."

"Thanks!" Silence fell over them for a moment before Lizzie began again. "Um...you know," she said softly in the voice she often used when tattling on her siblings. "Kathleen took Dickie to his indoor practice this morning."

"Yeah," Elliot said hiding the annoyance in his voice from his child.

"Did she tell you that this morning at breakfast?"

His eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. "No. I didn't have breakfast with Kathleen this morning."

"You didn't?" Lizzie said. "Well, she said she was going to breakfast this morning before she dropped off Dickie. I figured it was with you."

"No, she didn't meet with me. Where'd she go?"

"Somewhere near NYU, I think. I'm not sure."

"And, she didn't hint at who it was?"

"Nope. It mighta been that guy Mike she's been dating...I don't know."

"Okay..."

"Anyways, Daddy. I've gotta go. Meaghan's having a sleepover and I need to get going."

"Okay," he said slightly glum. "Well, have a good time Liz-I mean Elizabeth."

She laughed. "I will. Bye, Daddy."

He hung up the phone, but he continued staring at it. He knew Kathleen had been dating a new guy for a while now, it was likely it was him who she met for breakfast this morning, but he still did not like the idea.

************************************************************

Olivia carefully balanced her bag of groceries on her raised knee as she fumbled in her coat pocket for her apartment keys while the January air whipped around her threatening to sway her brown bag off of its unsteady shelf. Her cold, ungloved hands made contact with freezing metal in her pocket and she fished out the key to the front door of her apartment building.

It was nearing ten o'clock at night and Olivia had just caught the man at the market several blocks away from her building prior to his closing for the night. She had not gone shopping in a while and still needed quite a few things, but she had promised Jonathan that she would cook dinner for him Sunday evening in exchange for her canceling their lunch plans that day. She was certain there was nothing currently edible in her fridge and she knew Jonathan would not be amused by a repeat of her last "home-cooked" meal of grilled cheese sandwiches and beer.

Olivia opened the door to her building and opened her mailbox. White and yellow envelopes almost spilled out of the box and she caught them all in her grocery bag. She got onto the elevator, set down her bag, pressed "8" and began to quickly sift through the various envelopes. Among the throngs of offers for pre-approved credit cards and free siding for her home, she saw a card from her Aunt Sylvia, half a dozen utility and credit card bills, and more than ten pieces of mail for her neighbor, Mrs. Agatha Fitzgivens.

The elevator doors opened and she knocked on the door of the third apartment from the elevator.

"Olivia!" the elderly woman said with a smile as she opened the door. "How wonderful to see you!"

"Hi, Mrs. Fitzgivens," Olivia said in a low voice.

She was nowhere near the mood needed to "deal" with her always upbeat and overly happy neighbor. She had spent the majority of her afternoon speaking with the Vonnexes and tiptoeing around Elliot about the fact that Ricky Schrader had not known Drover. She never mentioned the fact, but it hung over them like a grey cloud of tension as they drove through the city. Munch and Fin had also delivered the unfortunate news that their killer had been kidnapping his victims and making them assist with the murder of the others.

She and Elliot also had to dodge a mass of reporters who had begun to gather around the latest crime scene. The detectives were attempting to find witnesses in the area, but the press followed them at nearly every building they attempted to visit and obstructed them as much as the law allowed them to do. Reporters from all walks of life shouted questions at them, demanding answers as if they were truly concerned about the welfare of the victims and their families. In truth, the more fuss they made, the more newspapers and magazines were sold and the higher the ratings for the local new stations.

With everything that was going on that day, she had all but forgotten her discussion with Kathleen that morning, until Elliot received a call from her on their way out of the squad room for the evening. Olivia was stressed and all she wanted to do was take a bath and allow her troubled mind to stop thinking about the young lives touched by this killer. While she often entertained Mrs. Fitzgivens out of pity and her own loneliness, Olivia knew she could not handle the woman's demeanor at this point in her day. She would prefer not to deal with her at all, but as their mail carrier often set Mrs. Fitzgiven's mail in Olivia's box, Olivia was forced to knock on her door at least once a week.

Mrs. Fitzgivens was constantly asking Olivia if she could come visit or wanted to try her new cookies or pies or whatever she happened to be cooking at that moment. Though she had mentioned having several sons, Olivia had never seen any grandchildren and more often than, not Mrs. Fitzgivens seemed lonelier that Olivia.

"I got some more of your mail," Olivia said handing the stack to her.

"Oh! Why thank you!" Mrs. Fitzgivens said eyes wide and beaming up at Olivia.

At sixty-seven years old, Mrs. Fitzgivens' hair had gone completely white and she always wore it pinned up in a near "beehive" formation as well as large silver rimmed glasses that made her light blue eyes appear twice their actual size. She had the appearance of someone who was once an attractive young women, but the sun and time had taken a great toll on her skin and the lines on her face were numerous and deep.

"Can you stay a moment?" she asked Olivia.

"No," Olivia said. "Actually, I can't. I've...uh...got my groceries...and, uh...you know, the caseload."

"Oh, but you must meet my youngest boy, Philip. He's here visiting me this weekend."

Olivia began to protest. "No, really. I can't. I'm just swamped..."

Mrs. Fitzgivens slowly took Olivia by the hand and pulled her slightly into the apartment. "Oh, it will just take a second. I wanted you to meet him. Philip is in computers and he's doing very well for himself."

Olivia suppressed a roll of her eyes as Mrs. Fitzgivens brought her into view of her son. Philip Fitzgivens stood at nearly six feet five inches, but looked to weigh no more than one hundred-thirty pounds. His lanky frame seemed overwhelming in the small apartment and he wore glasses that were nearly identical to those of his mother.

"Philip," Mrs. Fitzgivens said. "This is my neighbor, Olivia; the one I've been telling you about."

He extended a long arm toward Olivia and she was pleasantly surprised by the heart-warming smile that appeared on his face.

"Hi there," he said brightly.

"Hi. Look, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got lots of things to do and...you know, the caseload."

"Oh, okay, that's fine," he said looking slightly disappointed. "I understand. Everybody's got to keep their eye on the job."

"Right," she said. "Well, I should be going. Mrs. Fitzgivens, I'll see you later. Philip, it was a pleasure to meet you."

Olivia walked to the door, but Mrs. Fitzgivens stopped her in the doorway.

"You know," she said, nearly whispering to Olivia, "Philip is my youngest boy."

"Is that so?" Olivia said, the sarcasm lost on the old woman.

"Yes, and I've been trying to fix him up with a nice woman with a good head on her shoulders." She beamed up at Olivia and Olivia bit her lip, trying her best not to laugh in her face.

"Well," she said with a smile, "I'll let you know if I meet any."

"Oh, you!" Mrs. Fitzgivens said laughing. "Aren't you just terrible. But, I'm serious. Philip really is a nice boy."

"You do know I've been dating Jonathan Halloway for quite some time now?"

"I know, I know," she said. "But, I just figured that you might like to just have dinner with someone without any pretension or family...issues to bother you."

Olivia nodded her head. "I see...okay, well, let me think about it and I'll get back to you. Bye."

She sighed as she opened the door to her apartment moments later. She listened to the messages on her phone and heard that Mark had called her twice telling her that he got a hold of some free tickets to Dreamgirls which he knew she had been wanting to see and was inviting her to come see the film with him.

It's time to move, she thought to herself.

She opted for a quick shower instead of her planned bath and reviewed the notes she had made on Ricky Schrader's case. Ricky looked more like Jacob Lewendale and she wondered morosely if the next victim would look like Connor Whickfield; as if the killer were switching the hair colour of his victims. The case was disturbing from the forefront and learning that the killer made his victims assist in his murders was simply unnerving. Olivia could feel her stomach turn at the thought and she sought refuge from the images by playing her cello.

Her mother had bought the instrument for her when she was just twelve and she took to it immediately, though it was slightly too large for her at the time. Unlike the violin, which her mother had forced upon her, the cello's rich sounds of baritone and bass seemed to melt into Olivia's own spirits and after a few years, she was able to play not only the sonatas of the old masters, but pieces that simply came to her as she moved her handcrafted Pernambuco bow across the instrument's four strings. She had the ability to fuse jazz with Haydn and take pieces that were Major and bright and turn them Minor to fit her mood at the moment.

When Jonathan arrived at her apartment a while later that night, she was well into playing a piece by Bach and he simply spread himself across her couch with a bemused expression on his face, and listened to her play into the night. She finished the piece and simply continued playing whatever music came to mind as the cool moonlight poured into her apartment. At times of trouble and deep stress, Olivia had always turned to music to help flush away her demons. Between her mother's drinking and the pangs of adolescence, she knew as a child that music was the only way she could keep her sanity. Now, as an adult, sometimes only the vibrato movements of her left hand or the legato techniques of her right could push away the faces of all the Jacob Lewendales she had seen in her career and give her peace for the night.

A/N: I hope you all are liking the story. I have just one favor to ask: If you are reading, please review this. Whether it is on here or any of the other half dozen places I have got this story posted, any comments, questions or concerns are greatly appreciated. Cheers!

 

Flight, a novel ~ Part One - Chapter Four

Sunday January 14, 2007

Woodside, New York

The Sunday morning sun was bright and cheerful, though it offered no warmth on the pointed face of the Catholic church. Elliot had said goodbye to his priest, parted ways with his family and was driving south on 58th Street with a slightly pleasant feeling tingling in his stomach. He had not felt any sense of peace all week, but mass that morning made him especially hopeful for some reason. Perhaps it was the Word moving him. Perhaps it was knowing that he was trying to be a better Catholic than his father. Perhaps it was just having his family all together as if nothing had ever gone wrong.

Seeing Kathy and the kids each Sunday gave Elliot the strength to push forward with his work and stirred his emotions in all the wrong ways. He could not help thinking that his impending divorce from his wife was the worst kind of example he could have for his children. All he truly wanted was for them to live happy lives and be good Catholics. There were times he thought that with his failed marriage he had failed his children.

He turned onto Queens Boulevard as he headed toward his precinct. Once upon a time, he would have taken his family out for brunch and tried to spend as much of his day with them before going back to into the harsh reality of the SVU. Now, however, he had to wait until it was his weekend to take the children, and while relations between him and Kathy were amicable to the point where she allowed the children to spend time with him at different points throughout the week, he still hated having to leave them in the end. Instead of playing Polonius to Lizzie's Ophelia while she wanted to act out Hamlet, acting as goalie for kicking a few soccer balls to Dickie or grinding out the bowels of Trigonometry with Kathleen, Elliot had to simply hug them all and say goodbye until he had them again for the weekend.

Elliot unconsciously shook his head as he drove onto the Queensboro Bridge. If he was honest with himself, even if he could spend every waking second with his children, the job would eventually come in the way. The faces of Jacob Lewendale, Connor Whickfield and now Ricky Schrader haunted him as he drove and he knew no peace would come until he found their killer. Kathy had informed him that Dickie was standing to his principles and refusing to apologize and Elliot was inwardly happy to keep him on punishment.

"Just keep an eye on him," Elliot had said to Kathy.

He decided not to tell her his underlying reasons for sticking to his principles. She would come across his name in a newspaper article surrounding the case soon enough and he would simply deal with it then. When she did find out, they would dance the same line they had since he joined the SVU: She would insist that he intentionally kept in her dark about everything; he would remain adamant about police procedure and not wanting to expose her to this world; she would say this was the very reason she had to leave since he refused to open up to her; he would get angry about the argument in general saying that he already told why he wanted to keep quiet.

A while later, he arrived at the squad room and found Olivia already pouring over notes on her desk. The coffee cup on her desk was half drained and she looked as if she had been there for some time.

"Hey," he said. "How long've you been here?"

Olivia yawned. "Since before eight. I couldn't sleep so figured I might as well get some work done."

"Have you?"

"Not really. There's just nothing to go on."

Elliot nodded and stared at her for a minute. Her eyes had not reached his since he entered the room and her eyes remained fixed on the piece of paper before her.

"Something wrong?" he said.

She visibly tensed. "No, I'm fine. It's just so frustrating..."

Elliot nodded and his eyebrows flew toward his hairline when he remembered the note he had made for himself. "Hey! What kind of piano music do you have that's...uh...cool?"

"Cool?" she said glancing at him for the first time that morning.

"Yeah, Lizzie wants something cool to play at her next recital. Oh, I meant Elizabeth wants something cool to play."

She smiled. "Every girl goes through that stage where she doesn't want to go by the 'baby name' anymore."

"Really? What was the nickname that you grew out of?"

"Sorry," she said. "I've already reached my Personal Questions quota for the day this morning."

"Halloway?"

"Yep, sometimes that man's just full of questions."

"No wonder you couldn't sleep," Elliot said with a smile.

Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "Well, I'll see what I can drum up for her."

Silence fell over them as they each remembered the pressing task lying before them.

"So," Elliot said. "I'm thinking we need to talk to Jacob Lewendale's parents again. I want to be able to cross Drover off the list altogether."

Olivia nodded her head. "Sounds good. Just let me finish this and we'll go."

As she typed furiously on her keyboard, Elliot gathered Jacob Lewendale's file from the many stacks on his desk and threw Olivia an occasional glance. While he was not going to press the issue, he knew that something was wrong and he repressed a sigh as he hoped it would not interfere with the job. He could never tell if it was specifically something personal or something regarding a case, but she seemed overly stressed and he knew time would tell that the situation, no matter what it was, would throw them into a very loud argument.

************************************************************

"Jeffrey Drover?" Mrs. Lewendale said, her eyes still glazed from grief. "No, I don't really think Jacob knew him."

"Wait, Deborah," Mr. Lewendale said. "I remember him."

Elliot perked up immediately. "From where?"

"Jacob's soccer league. He's a younger guy. I think he's either an assistant coach or a trainer or something. But, he's always at the fields helping the boys practice. From what we'd heard from the other parents, he seemed to be a real stand-up guy. Why? Do you think he knows what happened to Jacob?"

"We're not certain if he knows anything," Elliot said. "But, we are just trying to find a connection between Jacob and the other boys."

"The other ones," Mrs. Lewendale said. "They played soccer too? With Jacob?"

"One did," Olivia said. "But, the other didn't."

"Oh," she said, but her mouth remained opened and her eyes wide as if she wanted them to say something more to allay some of her grief.

There was a brief silence among all those present before Mrs. Lewendale appealed to Elliot. "Are you any closer to finding out who did this to our son?"

"We have some leads and I assure you, the moment you have any information on Jacob, we'll let you know."

She gave both he and Olivia a weak smile, but her eyes held behind them a sadness so deep that Elliot nearly burst into tears himself.

As they left the Lewendale home, Elliot drove them North to view the soccer complex in which all three victims had played their winter sport.

Located at Harlem's edge, Tri-State ISA Complex 6, was a large, spacious building, well-lit and surrounded by a constant stream of people. Elliot shook his head wondering how Connor and Jacob could have disappeared from such a crowded place.

"It's a Sunday," he said to Olivia as they were browsing the turf fields inside the complex. "It's hard to believe the boys could've been taken by someone from here and no one noticed anything."

"Well," she said, "at least the media hasn't found out that two of them used to play here or we'd be facing riots here. I'm going to ask the service desk a few questions. I'll be back."

Elliot nodded as she walked away and his eyes scanned across the several games that were in progress on the four fields.

He's here, Elliot thought. Somewhere in the building, the killer was watching the young boys and waiting for the opportune moment to seize another victim.

His attention turned to the soccer game nearest to him and he watched for a few minutes, thinking about how many of Dickie's games he had missed and the ones he would miss in the future. The advancing team had both boys and girls on their side, all around Dickie and Lizzie's age, and Elliot felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as the tallest girl sent the ball flying through the fingertips of the defending goalkeeper.

"All right. Let's go," Olivia said, her voice tired and annoyed.

"They know anything?" he asked.

"Of course not. In fact, the guy up there asked me how the hell he was supposed to keep track of the thousands of kids who came through here every day. I mean, you'd think I asked him for complex information. 'When was the last time you'd seen these kids? Did they look like they had a parent with them?' They aren't hard questions and if he didn't know he could've just said so."

"Did he get in your face?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she said and walked out of the complex.

Elliot watched the girl take another victory loop around field and headed toward the building's entrance. He saw a flash of dark hair and skin pass by him as he reached the door and he heard a woman's voice yelling behind him.

"Daniel!" she yelled. "Don’t push past people and wait for the rest of us."

A small black boy reappeared through the complex doorway with a wide, mischievous grin on his face.

"C'mon on, Ma!" he yelled back, his voice cracking. "We’re late!"

The boy, nearly a foot smaller than Elliot, then gave him a sheepish look which Elliot could only return with one of his own as he followed Olivia's footsteps to their car.

Before returning to their squad room, he and Olivia drove to the other side of the island to visit their previous victim, Evelyn Rivers. Olivia insisted that they check on her to make sure Evelyn knew she had advocates on her side, and Elliot grudgingly obliged. The truth of the matter was that they were most likely going to run across Evelyn Rivers several more times as her boyfriend continued to abuse her and eventually her case would be covered by Homicide once Micah Diorel killed her. Elliot wanted to be sympathetic and offer Evelyn support, but he simply could not bring himself to pour out emotion for her when she would not testify against the man whom all four involved knew would kill her in due time.

"Detectives!" Evelyn said brightly as she opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

"We just wanted to check on you," Olivia said. "Just to see how things were going."

"Oh we're fine!" she said smiling.

"Who the hell is that?" the detectives heard from inside the apartment.

"It's the police, Micah," she yelled into the apartment. "But they're just seeing how we're doing."

They heard footsteps coming to the door and Micah Diorel appeared at the doorway with a smug smile in place. His colourless eyes could look directly into Elliot's and his black hair, nearly shoulder length, was gelled back to give a windswept appearance. He looked Elliot up and down and put his arm around Evelyn.

"Hello, Detectives," he said grinning. "It's good to see you all...on much better pretenses."

Elliot felt his right arm tense and relax as he resisted the urge to throw a right hook into Diorel's jaw.

"We just stopped by to see how Evelyn was doing," Olivia said.

"Well," he said giving Evelyn a squeeze, "as you can see, she's doing just fine. Healing nicely from her fall on Thursday."

"We'd like to hear it from Evelyn," Elliot said.

"I'm fine," she said. "Really. I'm walking better and Micah's taking real good care of me."

Elliot glared at Diorel. "I'm sure he is."

"Believe me," Diorel said. "I am."

Olivia pulled her card from her coat pocket and handed it Evelyn. "Evelyn, if you ever need anyone to talk to...give me a call. Day or Night."

Diorel gently pulled the card from Evelyn. "We'll be fine."

Elliot and Olivia glared at Diorel and silently, they left the doorway and began walking down the hall of the building.

"Hey!" they heard Diorel yell before they reached the entrance. "I don't want you people coming by here anymore. It just upsets Evelyn."

Elliot squinted at Diorel as if not seeing him properly. "You've got a lot of nerve telling us what upsets Evelyn."

"Look! I know Evie! She's fine! She just had a little fa-"

Before Diorel could tell him that Evelyn simply hurt herself by falling the previous Thursday, Elliot grabbed Diorel by the shirt collar and slammed him against the corridor wall.

"Elliot!" Olivia said eyes wide. "Let him go!"

"Police brutality!" Diorel screamed. "I'm suing! I'm going to every newsp-"

"Shut up!" Elliot yelled. "You! You beat up women like it's a hobby! You're lucky I don't knock your goddamn teeth in!"

"Elliot, come on," Olivia said pulling lightly at his arm. There was a part of her that wanted him to actually throttle Diorel, but she could not allow him to ruin his career over someone so low. "Let him go."

Elliot's eyes burned into Diorel's and he slowly released him. He and Olivia then walked out of the building with Diorel shouting explicatives at them as they went back to their car.

"You shouldn't've done that," Olivia said once they were back in the car.

"I know!" he said louder than he had intended. "I just couldn't take that lying sack of crap telling me that Evelyn got hurt falling down some stairs!"

"We know he's a liar, Elliot," she said. "I just wanted to make sure that she was okay and that he saw we were watching."

Elliot shook his head. "He's just going to beat her again and the next time, he'll kill her. He should be rotting in a cell right now, but since she refuses to say that he was the one who hurt her, he's free to walk the streets and kill her and anyone else he comes across."

"Maybe she'll come to her senses," Olivia said softly.

"Yeah, and maybe bacon will hail from the sky tomorrow..."

************************************************************

SVU Squad room

473 West 47th Street

6:08PM

The light on Elliot's desk in the squad room flickered for a moment and he felt a cold chill as he was reminded of the despised bathroom light in his apartment. As the light changed, his eyes glanced forward past Olivia to Captain Cragen on the phone in his office. Cragen's eyebrows were furrowed and his forehead was wrinkled as his face displayed a strong frown. Elliot knew Cragen was most likely speaking to his boss, Deputy Inspector Richard Felton, and he knew Cragen would be coming to speak to both he and Olivia next. Deputy Inspector Felton only contacted Cragen directly when public outrage of crimes in the city was approaching an event horizon.

From what he had seen throughout the morning newspapers, the media was calling Manhattan's SVU squad everything from incompetent to corrupt. Three boys were dead and they still had no answers. Usually this amount of public outrage would roll together after several months of inaction, but with two boys found within days of one another, the media seemed to be fueling parental fears with more fervor. However, when Elliot was honest with himself, he knew that if he was on the outside of the situation, he would be just as fearful and angry.

His eyes fell upon Dickie's face in the picture of his four children and Elliot felt drained. He and Olivia had been on the case for nearly two weeks and still, they were no farther along than they were when they first started.

The movement of Cragen's head nodding into the phone caught his eye and he was certain the storm was just about to hit them. He mentally braced himself knowing that the moment Cragen was off the phone he and Olivia would be forced to set every other case on their plate to the back of the pile and spend every waking moment tracking the killer of Jacob Lewendale, Connor Whickfield and Ricky Schrader.

Opposite him, Olivia was reviewing the autopsy reports completed on the latest victim. Like Connor Whickfield, there was no DNA present, no hairs and nothing that would lead them to a suspect. Elliot was exhausted and could see the same lines of fatigue appearing in Olivia's face as the afternoon turned to evening.

"Well," Cragen said approaching their desks, "I just had my own ass fed to me by the deputy inspector. Tell me we've got something more on these three murders."

Elliot shook his head. "We could, but we'd be lying. Cap, we've talked to everyone involved. No one knows anything. The only thing close to a lead we've had was this Drover guy, but neither the first or the third victims have had any real contact with him."

"And, the forensics has turned up nothing," Olivia said. "There's no DNA, no hairs and the only fingerprints are from the newest victims."

"How 'bout Ricky Schrader?" Cragen asked.

Olivia sighed. "Melinda's latest report doesn't show any fingerprints at all. Even anything from another boy."

"I guess it's too much to hope that this guy's been scared off by the media..." Cragen put his hands in his pockets. "What about the kid who saw Jacob Lewendale talking to someone in a black truck?"

"Marcus Valentino?" Elliot said. "We already talked to him. All he saw was the truck."

"Well, that was more than a week ago," Cragen said. "Talk to him again. Maybe his story's changed or maybe he remembers something else since the media exposure."

Elliot and Olivia glanced at one another, but Cragen caught the exchange. "Look! These Whickfields are more connected than you would think and I've got everyone down from the commissioner to retired cops calling me every second wanting to know how the case going. Go see what this kid has to say!"

He turned and headed back to his office and Olivia looked at Elliot with raised eyebrows. Cragen had few reasons to actually yell at them and they knew if he seemed this edgy, there was a fair amount of pressure bearing down on him from all sides. Even though the case specifically belonged to Elliot and Olivia, Munch and Fin would soon be called in to assist as the case became the absolute priority of the SVU.

Elliot followed Olivia to the elevators and a while later, they were in an apartment at West 90th and Riverside Drive speaking, once again, to Marcus Valentino.

"I already to you what I saw that night," Marcus said his voice cracking on the last word. "How come you guys are here again?"

"Well," Elliot said. "We just want to make sure we understood everything you said. Now, why don't you tell us about that guy and the black truck again."

Marcus glanced between Elliot and Olivia and then down at his shoes before answering. "Well...it wasn't a truck."

"It's not a truck?" Olivia repeated her eyebrows nearing her hairline. "Well, if it's not a truck, what was the guy driving?"

"I don't know," he said, brown eyes wide. "It was like...er...truck-ish, sort of."

He looked expectantly at Elliot as if his answer was definite and concrete.

"Truckish?" Elliot said. "You want to elaborate on that?"

"It was like...not a truck...actually it was more like an SUV."

Elliot felt his entire body tense as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, glossy piece of paper. "The guy in the SUV...did he look like this?"

Marcus took the photo from Elliot and stared at for a moment. "Yeah, he did. I mean it was dark, but he kinda' looked like that."

Olivia bent slightly at the waist to see the photo Elliot had handed the boy. He refused to meet her eyes when she straightened, but he felt warmer from the anger growing in Olivia.

He had given Marcus a copy of Jeffrey Drover's license photo, yet he had neglected to tell Olivia that he even obtained the image. Elliot steadied himself on his feet as Marcus continued to describe the man in the car that night.

"Yeah," Marcus said. "His hair was kind of scruffier and stuff, but it was dark like that and he had, like, the same face and stuff, too."

"Had you ever seen him before?" Elliot asked.

Marcus nodded. "I've seen him around the complex a whole bunch of times. He watches a lot of our games."

"Did Jacob seem like he knew who he was talking to that night?"

"Yeah, I think so. He wasn't looking like he was talking to some random dude or anything. Yeah, I pretty sure he knew him."

"Did you see him get in the car?"

"I had to leave, so I didn't stick around." Marcus looked down at his shoes again. "Do you think that's the guy who did something to Jacob?"

************************************************************

As the argument in the squad room heated up, the voices bounced off the walls and echoed through the now mostly empty halls of the SVU.

"That's two of three Olivia! We need to bring in him!"

"Two of three based on what? The kid who couldn't tell the difference between a truck and an SUV!"

The detectives had been yelling at one another since they left the Valentino home over an hour ago. Olivia threw the first jibes the moment they reached the car, saying that Elliot would have better luck dragging Drover into the squad room if he dropped leaflets with his image from a plane over the city, to which Elliot responded with the fact that Olivia had been dragging her feet on Drover from Day One only because she wanted to prove him wrong. They were standing in front of their desks facing one another, Elliot's skin turning red throughout the argument and Olivia's turning bright white over the strain. The argument had gone on non-stop and even though the squad room had emptied, as evening turned to night, leaving the two of them and one other diligent worker in the area, neither detective had noticed.

"He made positive ID!" Elliot yelled. "It's enough to bring him in."

"You could've showed him a picture of Ronald McDonald and he would've identified him as the guy! What is wrong with you!"

"I am trying to track down this guy before he kills another kid!"

"By violating every procedure you've ever learned?" she yelled. "You completely tainted the witness! Even if he truly saw Drover that night, how the hell can Casey use him on the stand if he ID'd him from his license photo? You didn't even bother to throw together a six-person line-up!"

"It gave us what we need to get him in here and question him! That ID is enough to bring him in and figure out what he knows. I didn't have time to put a line-up together. I knew we were talking to the kid today and I wanted something to jog his memory!"

"But not like this!"

"Then how, Olivia? How! At least now we know we can't stop looking at him. We have a suspect! We have something to go on now, which brings us one step closer to stopping these murders!"

"You know this is absolutely ridiculous!" Olivia picked up her coat. "You're willing to bring this guy in, rip his life apart, all on a whim and a gut feeling!"

"It's more than that, and you know it," he said softly.

"Is it? I mean honestly, there's no reason for this vendetta against Drover, Elliot. None at all."

"If he's murdering thirteen-year-old kids…" Elliot shook his head and his voice trailed.

"Why now?" she said, their argument finally dying down to softer tones. "We've dealt with child molesters who went after kids the same age as Dickie and Lizzie before. Why are you gunning so strongly for this guy all of sudden?"

Elliot sighed. "I'm not there to watch them...to keep them in line...to protect them."

"Elliot, they are good kids, and you and Kathy raised them well. They're not going to do anything irresponsible."

"Irresponsible?" he said. "Dickie's thirteen and he's sneaking out of the house to hang out with his friends. The latest victim...Ricky Schrader, snuck out of his house like it was nothing, and now we're investigating his murder. Look, Liv. I know you think you understand how I'm feeling with this case, but you don't. This is different."

"It's okay to step down from the case, especially if it's hitting this close to home."

Elliot shook his head. "No, I can handle this-"

"Well, obviously it's affecting you because you can't think this case through carefully. You're so focused on Drover that you may miss the real killer altogether."

"And, if it's Drover?"

She shrugged and stared at her desk. "If it's him, I'll eat my words and I'll distract the Cap while you help Drover have a little accident."

Elliot smiled at her, thankful for her support and the supposed end of the argument. The silence that came over them afterward was overwhelming since their voices had been echoing for such a long time.

"C'mon," he said after a minute. "Let's go it's late."

She nodded and put on her coat.

"You wanna grab a drink with me?" he asked, but she shook her head.

"Can't. I promised Jonathan I'd cook dinner for him and since it's already nine, I'm willing to bet I owe him for even more at this point."

He let out a laugh. "You're cooking dinner?"

"If spaghetti and frozen meatballs is dinner, then yes."

He followed her out of the building and before they parted ways, she rubbed his arm. "It'll be okay, Elliot. We'll find the guy. Regardless if it's Drover or not."

Elliot nodded at her and got in his car, intending to drive to Queens and get some rest before diving back into their current most pressing case, however, instead of heading back across the river, he drove to a small restaurant on West End Avenue. Once there, he simply walked into the building and took a seat at the end farthest from the door. As a regular to the restaurant, Elliot knew the owner well and could simply grab a seat wherever he wanted without having to wait.

The dimly lit booth he chose was warm and familiar. He had come to the restaurant dozens of times with Kathy, the kids, his brothers and even Olivia, and each time he visited, he made sure to get a seat somewhere around the same booth. Cream-coloured menus sat upright against the wall of the booth on the table, and Elliot did not mind the slight sticky feel of them when he picked one up to examine the menu. He had tried nearly everything on the menu and although he continued staring at it, he had made up his mind the moment he stepped through the doors.

A short waitress with a big smile appeared just a moment after he had set down his menu and took his order of a medium rare steak, mashed garlic potatoes, steamed mixed vegetables and a Rolling Rock. She informed him that she would be back with his order in a little while because “the kitchen was cold,” but he knew it would be soon nonetheless.

The owner, Michael Debbs, had gone to high school with Elliot and even though money was tight at the time, Elliot and his brothers had fronted Debbs a portion of the funds needed to help get the bar off the ground. In gratitude from the loan, Debbs made certain that Elliot was well served anytime he visited the restaurant.

Debbs had made good on the loan within a year and to celebrate, Elliot and his brother, Bryce, five years older, took their sister, Colleen, two years older than Elliot, out for the restaurant’s grand opening. Elliot and Bryce had intended on going to the restaurant opening regardless, but took Colleen with them when it seemed certain that she did not want the slightest adulation for having beaten breast cancer that same year. It seemed a small consolation, but it was the most either brother could do for their sister who had wanted to sweep the entire experience out of mind.

Ten minutes later, the girl returned with his meal and Elliot heartily dug into the perfect steak, savoring each taste of it. He had not wanted to be alone, but sometimes it was unavoidable. He hated every evening he had to make dinner by himself and for himself, especially on Sunday nights. Once upon a time, Sunday evenings were the one time throughout the week his entire family would get together and make dinner as one. The family of six would spend the evening laughing, talking and catching up on each other’s lives. Even when Maureen went away to school, she would try to make it back home every once in a while, always on Sunday evenings. Normally, he was in charge of the salad, but he was getting good at making the simpler things. Now, however, Sundays were a blur of loneliness and frozen dinners.

He had asked Olivia to come out with him in a last effort to avoid spending another Sunday alone, even though he knew she would probably be busy. The small restaurant seemed out of the way from the rest of the world and Elliot knew he could more or less be alone without feeling such.

An image of Olivia trying to make dinner for her boyfriend floated to his mind and he dove into the potatoes with a bemused expression. He had seen a fair amount of men come in and out of Olivia’s life and as they had been partnered for so long, he could tell just after meeting one how long he was going to last. Jonathan Halloway, it seemed, would probably be around for a bit, longer than the others at least. Elliot had only spoken to him twice and neither occurrence was enjoyable, but after nearly two years, he had learned to tolerate hearing about the man.

Eighteen months earlier, Elliot found himself both unnerved and relieved by the slightest suggestion that Olivia might have become an in-law. Both Bryce and his younger, unmarried brother, Nolan, had helped Elliot move out of his house and into his apartment along with Olivia and Elliot could not help but notice that the exchanges between Olivia and Nolan were a bit much for his tastes. He spent the better part of the day ensuring that they were not alone together for very long, unsure if he was trying to protect his brother or his partner.

All in all, Elliot was comforted to see Nolan react to Olivia. Nolan, who at the time had just turned forty, had been a bachelor for far too long in Elliot’s mind and without seeing a woman in Nolan’s life as a high school teacher in Staten Island, he and Bryce had shared long talks over whether or not they would have to “deal” with a non-straight relative. However, when Nolan had asked for Olivia’s phone number at the end of his move, it was with great relief, pride and slight regret that Elliot informed his younger brother that Olivia was already dating someone.

Elliot sat in the booth, took a swig of his Rolling Rock and casually scanned the room. The restaurant was small the bar towards its middle, but on Sunday evenings especially, it was a nice, smoke-free place to have dinner.

He was about to return to his steak, when his eyes caught a somewhat familiar face at the bar. Dressed as if about to approach a trendy club scene, Olivia’s friend, Maya Shah, stood at the bar talking on her cell phone, a Corona with a lime stuck in its neck in front of her. The eyebrows over her dark eyes were furrowed into an annoyed expression and she continuously moved a lock of long, black hair behind her ear, loosely disguising her frustration.

“Well, fine,” he heard her say into phone. “You do whatever you feel like you need to, but I did come all the way up here just for you…yeah, well, I don’t think I should be penalized just because you have kids…yeah, that’s fine, I just want you to know, that’s a real shitty thing to do someone…whatever, I’ll just talk to you later.”

She snapped her phone closed and tossed it into the small Louis Vuitton bag that hung from her shoulder. Maya sighed and took a long drink of her beer and glanced around the room. She spotted Elliot in his corner and he nodded at her in acknowledgement. She smiled at him and quickly strode to his table.

“Evening, Detective,” she said. “Mind if I sit?”

“Have a seat,” he said, a piece of steak in his cheek.

Maya sat across from him, but neither spoke for a full minute. Elliot had met Maya years earlier when he had first been partnered with Olivia, but he rarely had a chance to talk to her outside of Olivia’s presence.

“So,” Maya said brightly. “What’re you doing here eating alone?”

Elliot shrugged. “I know the owners and they grill a good steak. Plus, I didn’t really feel like trying to cook tonight.”

“I completely understand,” she said. “I never cook if I can help it.”

“Never? Doesn’t that get a little tedious?”

“In the greatest city in the world? Never!”

Elliot laughed, but silence fell upon them again.

“I talked to Livia yesterday,” Maya continued. “She’s seeming kind of…I don’t know…maybe a little happier than before.”

Elliot could tell that Maya was lying simply to make conversation and he did not blame her. He did not like pure silence either and Olivia was the only thing either of them had in common.

“Mm…,” he replied, his mouth full of vegetables. “Might be that guy she’s dating.”

Maya’s eyes seemed to light up at the mention of Jonathan. “Yeah, Jonathan. He’s great. Wish I’d’ve caught him, but he’s good with Livia.”

“I don’t think he likes me,” Elliot said.

“Really? I didn’t Jonathan disliked anybody.”

“‘Bout a month ago, I had to drop off something for Liv. She wasn’t there, but he was.”

He paused briefly, recalling the encounter.

************************************************************

“Oh, so you’re Liv’s partner,” the dark-haired man had said, crossing his arms, but smirking slightly.

“Yeah,” Elliot had said. “Just…uh…give her this and have her call me if she has any questions about what I wrote.”

“I think I can manage that,” Jonathan said smugly.

“Yes…well,” Elliot had said, not sure what else to make of the guy. “Take care, then.”

“Hey, hang on sec,” Jonathan had said. “So, um…tell me. What’s it like to work with Olivia?”

“‘What’s it like’?” Elliot shrugged. “It’s fine…perfect. We get along great.”

Jonathan nodded his head. “I see.”

“You see what?”

Jonathan raised his eyebrows as his mouth stretched into the same smug smirk. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Elliot grew irritated. “Do you have some kind of problem with me or something?”

“No, no problem,” Jonathan had said. “Well…actually, I uh…have about three questions for you.”

“Okay…,” Elliot had said..

“First of all, are you sleeping with Olivia?”

Elliot felt his eye twitch and he stood silent for a moment, wondering whether to deck the guy or just turn and walk back toward the elevator.

“No. I’m pretty sure you’re handling that.”

“‘Kay. Just checking…Have you ever slept with my girlfriend?”

“Again. No.”

“Well, all right,” Jonathan had said, the smirk turning into a wide grin. “So, let me ask: have you ever hurt her in any way?”

Elliot felt his expression soften. He was certain in their eight years together, he had said or done something that hurt Olivia. While he did not like to so much as raise his voice in her direction, he knew Olivia carried emotional scars from their partnership.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he had said.

“Well, then you know what? I think we’ll be all right. I’ll make sure Liv gets this and I hope you have yourself a good day.” With those words, Jonathan closed Olivia’s door in Elliot’s face.

Elliot shook his head.

“Bastard,” he said under his breath as he headed for the elevator.

************************************************************

“He got a little…snippy with me,” Elliot continued breaking his own reverie.

“Really?” Maya said eyes wide. “Jonathan?”

“Took one look at me and we just gave each other a bad vibe, I guess.”

“Wow. He seems like such a sociable guy.”

“That’s what Liv tells me.”

“Hmmm,” Maya said taking a drink, “Although…You know he is a Halloway. And sometimes he can lay that smugness down pretty thick on people.”

Elliot nodded. That’s for damn’ sure, he thought to himself.

Silence hovered over them once more.

“So, what’re you doing here?” Elliot asked to break the silence again. “A happenin’ gal like you. Shouldn’t you be out at some fabulous restaurant, dining with the rich and famous?”

“Yeah, I should,” she said, eyes gleaming with a flippant toss of her hair. “But, instead I’d thought I’d meet a friend for a few drinks, and of course, he blew me off.”

“Why’d he do that?”

“So,” she sighed, “he could spend a nice, Sunday evening with his kids.”

“Can you blame him?”

“Of course, I can. If he was gonna spend the night with his family he should’ve told me. Before I took the cab ride over here.”

Elliot shrugged. “Father’s are like that.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Whatever. He knew what was up the second he woke up this morning. He can’t just confess eternal love and the possibility of marriage one night and blow me off the next minute.”

“You want to get married?”

“Hell no!” she said, taking another sip of her beer. “Not right now at least. But, that doesn’t mean he can jerk me around. I’m a person too, you know.”

“That’s what Liv tells me,” Elliot repeated.

Maya smiled. “Livia thinks I should break up with him.”

“Are you?”

“Probably not, but I know I should. She’s always been the smart one. Always giving me the good advice that I always regret not taking.”

Elliot finished his potatoes and took a long drink of the Rolling Rock. “How long have you known one another?”

“More years than I can really remember,” she said slowly.

“Ten? Twelve?”

“A little more…”

“Fifteen? Twenty?”

She raised her eyebrows and shifted her gaze to the side table with a smile on her face.

“Can’t be more than twenty,” Elliot said. “You’re both not that old.”

“We’re the same age, actually. Same sign too. Born four days apart.”

“How ‘bout that,” he said, smiling.

Maya returned the smile. “Yep. Practically soul sisters.”

He nodded and tried to keep the conversation going.”

“So, Maya. What is it that you do? I mean I’ve never heard Liv say, ‘when Maya gets time off work’ or something. Do you work somewhere or are you living of your folks’ money like I first assumed?”

She gave him a sly smile. “Technically speaking, I’m a criminal attorney.”

“Really? You’re a lawyer?”

“Look,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I went to law school, passed the bar and even set up a little office on the East Side. The thing is, my parents hate me and they always will for as long as they’re alive. I might as well give them a valid reason for hating me by being a leech on their bank account.”

“I suppose that sounds fair enough.”

Elliot could not help but smirk at Maya as she finished the rest of her Corona. Though Maya was Indian, her facial features had some of the shape of Olivia’s and combined with nearly the same colouring, Elliot could almost see a far less stressed and less mature version of Olivia beaming out from Maya’s eyes.

An unavoidable silence seemed to creep back between them again when Justin Timberlake’s “SexyBack” rang from her purse.

He started to laugh. “You know, my youngest daughter has that ringtone on her phone.”

“Well, the teenie boppers always have the best stuff,” Maya said, winking and looking at her caller ID. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at the phone. “Know what? I have to go.”

“Emergency at home?”

“Guess you could say that.”

“Your shoe collection on fire or something?” Elliot asked still grinning.

Maya threw back her head and laughed. “No, that would be an absolute disaster. My sister’s just losing her goddamn mind…again.”

“And she’s calling you for advice? I thought Olivia was your advice pool.”

“Oh, she is, but Priyani is calling for someone to bitch at and I know this is going to take a while. Have a good night.”

“See you later,” he said as Maya slipped out of the booth and began speaking rapid Hindi into her phone.

His steak finished and his only beer nearly emptied, Elliot sat alone staring at the seat Maya had just occupied. The loneliness had settled in quickly and he wondered if he would drive around the city for a while to clear his mind or simply go home and get some sleep.

Elliot took a few bills out of his wallet, laid them on the table, gave Debbs, who was behind the bar, a quick wave to add the meal to Elliot’s tab, and headed out the door. As he got to his car he decided to go for Option Three: to head back to the precinct to find something more concrete on Drover. Perhaps if he worked quickly, he would find something before Olivia noticed and read him the riot act again.

************************************************************

Monday January 15, 2007

Greenwich Village, New York

4:09AM

Through a haze of sleep and her own hair covering her face, Olivia could hear her cell phone ripping through the night’s silence from her end table. She dislodged herself from Jonathan’s grasp and the mass of sheets and blankets that covered the bed and reached for the phone. She could hear Jonathan groan from his side of the bed as she moved.

Twenty minutes later, Olivia was dressed, was in Jonathan's car because she desired not to deal with cabs that early in the morning, and was passing through the light at University Place and 10th Avenue, all the while wondering why crimes could only be discovered at this time of night.

Why couldn’t they do this in the middle of the day and give me one night of sleep? she had said to herself.

She had received a call from officers informing her that a murdered young boy had been found behind a building and since she was “catching” cases that night, it was her turn to first investigate. Earlier that night, she told Jonathan that it was strong possibility that she would be called out of bed, but he wanted to have dinner regardless. She wanted to nudge him in the chest when he groaned once the phone rang, but she suppressed the urge. Jonathan had been told what her situation was the moment they started dating and she thought he had no reason to be annoyed.

West 10th Avenue turned into East 10th and Olivia continued forward with a slight grimace on her face. The officer had said that a black boy had been found and that they were working on an identification on the victim, and she was not ready to take on another child molestation so close to the most poignant one. The current string of murders was her and Elliot’s prime focus and any other case would have to wait until it was solved. Though she had yet to even meet the parents of the victim, she knew she would have to lie to them, telling them that their case was at the top of her list, while she knew the murders of Jacob Lewendale, Connor Whickfield and Ricky Schrader took complete priority.

She pictured the face of the grieving mother as she crossed 3rd Avenue and was suddenly nauseated. A wave of exhaustion passed over her and a part of her wanted to just let Elliot get to the scene first to handle everything and go back to sleep, but she knew she had never been accused of dereliction of duty previously and there was no need start now. She also knew that no cop in the SVU kept his or her job by passing the more unpleasant duties onto other detectives.

The radio in the car had been playing the oldies Olivia had listened to as a small child and when Don McLean began singing about a time long, long ago, she turned up the volume. A memory of she and Maya screaming the song at the top of their lungs with a group of other friends as teenagers came to mind and she briefly let the task at hand slip from her thoughts as she drove.

A familiar flash of purple light created from the red and blue alternating squad car lights appeared as Olivia approached Avenue C. Moments later, she was ducking under yellow crime scene tape and was viewing the body of a black boy who did not look much older than ten or eleven. His close-cut, black hair had bits of white fuzz in it that Olivia could not identify and his eyes were vacant with a blue glaze over them. While his large eyes were reminiscent of the other boys, his age was seemed a few years outside of the modus operandi of their current murderer.

Just as she began to feel slight relief that the previous killer had not jumped races, Melinda asked her to view the body from where she stood.

“See this?” she said pointing to the boy’s neck. “It was harder to tell immediately, but those are the same marks found on the past three murders.”

Olivia felt her eyebrows furrow at Melinda. “It’s same guy?”

“Has to be,” she said. “From the way the body’s been positioned here and the shapes of a belt or something like it around the neck. He’s nude and he’s been sodomized to the same point as the others. It’s exactly like the past murders.”

Olivia shook her head. “But, pedophiles are very particular. All the past victims have been white and somewhere closer to thirteen. He can’t be older than ten.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” she said shrugging. “I’ll know with an absolute certainty once I get him on the table, but this looks like the same guy.”

Olivia closed her eyes and sighed.

“But,” Melinda continued, “unlike the others, this boy’s only been dead for a few hours. Even with the cold, I can tell he was strangled somewhere between two to four hours ago.”

Olivia heard Elliot calling her name and she waved him toward where she and Melinda stood. He strode over quickly and she could see that he looked extremely tired. She also had to hide her surprise and worry that he had arrived to the scene far sooner than she would have thought. A quick calculation over the time it would take to get from Woodside to Alphabet City ran through her head and she made a note ask Elliot if he had slept in the “crib” at the 1-6.

When he got to the body, Elliot bent down to look at his neck. He stood quickly and he seemed to grow pale in the artificial police lights. Olivia wanted to ask him what was wrong besides the obvious, but Melinda spoke before she could.

“I’ll let you two know if I find anything that looks like it’s a different guy,” and she began to pack up her examiner’s kit.

Twenty minutes later, Olivia and Elliot were heading back to their respective cars to go back to the precinct, but Olivia grew concerned as she could still see the same sickly expression on Elliot’s face. Even when they left the boy’s body, the colour did not return to his face and she knew something was definitely wrong.

“Elliot,” she said softly as they reached his car. “Is something going on?”

He stared at the Taurus and remained silent.

“Did you sleep at the crib tonight?”

He still said nothing.

“I mean,” she continued. “You haven’t said more than two words to me since you saw the body-”

“I saw him,” Elliot said, blurting out the words. “The victim. The boy…I saw him.”

“You saw him?” she said eyes wide. “Where? When?”

“Yesterday at the ISA complex.” His eyes remained on the car. “He ran right by me. I even heard his mother calling for him.”

Olivia stood for a moment silently staring at him. “Do you remember his name, because we’re still looking for an-”

“Daniel,” he said. “I didn’t catch the last name.”

She nodded. “Well, we can use that to narrow down our search for him.”

Elliot lightly hit his fist against the hood of the car. “That kid was walking, talking, breathing…smiling at me yesterday, Liv…and now…I mean I could’ve reached out and touched him.”

She stared at him as he refused to return her gaze, wishing so much that she could give some words of encouragement, but none came. She had had the same occurrence with other victims, where they were just a minute too late to save one here and a moment shy of catching a criminal there. It was a rare and unfortunate coincidence, and she empathized with him knowing that only time would ease the pain he was feeling.

An hour later, they were back at the precinct reviewing new Missing Persons cases involving a black boy named Daniel.

“Found him,” Munch said from his desk. “Daniel Richardson. Lived on West 63rd, near the park.”

“When was it filed?” Elliot asked.

Olivia’s eyes were directly on Elliot, knowing a major reaction was about to erupt.

Munch sighed. “About an hour before he was found. He was supposed to visit a friend’s house just down the street and he never made it there.”

Elliot slammed his hands on his desk and both she and Fin across from her jumped at the sound.

“He was there!” Elliot yelled. “He was right there! We probably saw him and he picked this kid out right in front of us. He’s mocking us!”

“Elliot,” Munch said calmly. “We don’t even know if it’s the same guy or not.”

“Warner all but said so this morning,” Olivia said.

“But, we still don’t know for sure,” Munch said. “This could be a copy cat. I mean this case is getting more exposure by the day. Who knows who’s been getting some sick ideas?”

“This is the guy,” Elliot said, teeth clenched. “There’s no way it’s not.”

“But he’s black,” Munch said standing. “All the other vics have been white. He’s not going to switch up all of sudden.”

“It’s the same guy,” Elliot said. “He was at the complex while Liv and I were there and now he’s taunting us.”

“We don’t know that he’s taunting us, Elliot,” Olivia said softly trying to calm him.

Elliot shook his head at her and started to retort, but she interrupted. “Let’s just go notify the parents. Maybe they’ll know a little more about what happened to him last night.”

He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity before taking his coat from his chair back and walking toward the elevators. Olivia grabbed the victim’s information from Munch, gave him a look that read, “I’m sorry about Elliot,” and followed her partner to the elevators.

The Richardsons, Langdon and Daphne, were dressed in Kenneth Cole and Chanel, respectively when they answered the door, and were both more or less unresponsive upon receiving the news that their son, Daniel, had been found. Mr. Richardson demanded to see his son in person the moment they told him that he had been murdered, and Olivia and Elliot found themselves standing just behind the parents as Melinda was about to reveal the boy’s face from under a white sheet.

Olivia held her breath, waiting for the storm that was about to hit. As if a symbol had been struck, the sound of Mrs. Richardson’s scream bounced and resounded around the walls of the waiting room as Melinda revealed Daniel Richardson’s lifeless face from beneath the sheet. Olivia saw Melinda quickly cover him as Mrs. Richardson fell to her knees in front of the window, arms reaching out as if wanting to hold her child one last time.

Stepping forward automatically, Olivia took Mrs. Richardson’s hand in one of her own and allowed the grieving mother to squeeze her hand numb. She looked up at Elliot who stood next to a stoic Mr. Richardson, but said nothing as Mrs. Richardson continued to scream for her son.

************************************************************

SVU Squad room

4:17PM

The large, clear Plexiglas board which had held the photos of countless criminals and victims, stood in the middle of the SVU squad room adorning the pictures Jacob Lewendale, Connor Whickfield, Ricky Schrader and now, Daniel Richardson. Cragen stood in front of the board with a frown on his face while his four detectives stood behind him with equally grim expressions.

The media had caught wind of Daniel Richardson’s murder and the reporters were nearly leveling the precinct in hopes to get a statement. He knew one would need to be issued soon, but as he stared at the innocent faces on the board, he realized no answer he could give would appease the impending mobs.

Langdon Richardson was one of the more affluent realtors in the city and Daphne sat on the boards of several of New York’s most notable charities. The death of their youngest son hit the media far sooner than anyone could have imagined, and Cragen’s phones began ringing just an hour after Olivia and Elliot had notified the parents.

“We’ve got a real problem here,” he said toward the board but intended for the detectives behind him. “I mean besides the obvious.” He sighed. “Dr. Warner’s sure it’s the same guy?”

“Hand delivered the results herself,” Elliot said. “It’s the same guy.”

Cragen shook his head. “This just doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s sick,” Fin said.

“It’s always sick,” Munch said, putting his hands in his pockets. “The Richardsons are notable people, but this isn’t the first time we’ve seen this and it won’t be the last either.”

“It’s sick,” Fin continued, “because this guy killed a black kid…today.”

Silence fell over the group for a moment before Olivia spoke. “It’s Martin Luther King Day.”

“Yeah, that is sick,” Munch said. “Killing a black kid in honor of a leader. What kind of sick bastard gets his kicks by changing his MO on Martin Luther King Day?”

“The same one who gets his jollies by raping and murdering adolescent boys,” Elliot said. “This guy couldn’t have picked Daniel out at random. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

“How so?” Cragen said.

“Daniel Richardson just turned twelve years old on the ninth and he’s small for his age, but the parents told Liv and me that Daniel played soccer with older kids. He should’ve been in a U-12 league, but they greased some wheels so that he could play up.”

“Why?” Munch said. “So, he could get beat up on the soccer field?”

“So that he’d be competitive by the time he got to high school. But, he held his own even though he played with kids a few years older.”

“But, why is that even significant?” Fin said. “I mean, so he played soccer with older kids. Why would this guy target him?”

“Because he probably didn’t realize that Daniel was younger until he got a hold of him,” Elliot said. “That might explain why the quick turnaround this time.”

“But, Daniel looks young,” Cragen said. “Anyone could see it. If this guy’s a pedophile, he would’ve seen this and kept on trucking since his age group is thirteen.”

Another wave of silence fell over the group and again Olivia broke it.

“What if he’s not actually a pedophile?” she asked. Met with inquisitive stares, she continued. “What if he’s just a freak who’s out to kill these kids just because they’re there? Maybe there’s something about them that they have that he wants or never had in the first place.”

“But everything about this guy screams pedophile, though,” Fin said.

“That doesn’t mean he has to be one,” she said. “And, if he’s not then there’s no reason why he wouldn’t go after a boy outside his apparent age range and race.”

“Which means,” Elliot said, “he picked out Daniel just because he was around that complex. Daniel played on a team with twelve and thirteen year old kids and this guy would’ve seen him with them. He’s picking out his victims from that site.”

“Wait a minute,” Munch said. “I thought Ricky Schrader didn’t play in the same league as these other kids. He wouldn’t have had a reason to be at that site.”

“He could’ve followed Ricky anywhere,” Elliot said, “especially since his foster parents said he ran away a lot. I’m telling you this guy is stalking the kids from that complex.”

“So, now we have to make a decision,” Cragen said. “Do we close down the site or do we let it stay open?”

Two distinct answers were heard from each of the four detectives simultaneously and the captain simply stared at those before him.

“We need to keep it open,” Fin said. “If we close it down, the killer’s gonna know we’re onto him and we’ll never find him.”

“I agree,” Elliot said. “We should place some Unis and some Plain Clothes around the whole complex looking for the guy.”

“But,” Olivia said, “we may not find him, even with officers at every door. We still not sure how he tracked down Ricky Schrader-”

“Which is why we need people at the complex,” Elliot interrupted.

“But,” she continued, “we’ve already established that this guy might not be a pedophile at all. If he’s moved on to other spots in the city there’s no telling where he might be and when he’ll go back to that complex.”

Olivia glared at Elliot, trying hard not to show her aggravation that Elliot was, again, not backing her opinion on this case. In her eyes, the longer the complex stayed open, the more likely it was that another boy was going to be taken from the site and found murdered elsewhere in the city.

She stared at him, hoping to sway him with the look in her eye, but Elliot stood firm.

“Shutting down that complex does nothing except excite hysteria. We’ll be up to our armpits in angry parents the moment the press gets wind that this guy’s targeting that site.”

Munch took a step between them. “How’s it going to look if we leave the place open and another kid disappears?”

“How’s it gonna look if we never find this guy?” Fin said. “It’s like Elliot said: as soon as we close the place, he’s gonna bolt.”

“All right, look,” Cragen said before Olivia could respond again. “Why don’t we just leave it open for the time being. We’ll place both Unis and Plain Clothes all around the site and see what we can dig up. What about that trainer, Drover? What else do we know about his involvement?”

Olivia spoke up before Elliot could open his mouth. “We’re still not sure if he’s involved at all.”

“The witness who saw Jacob Lewendale talking to a guy in a truck that night, did identify him,” Elliot said.

She threw him a dirty look. “But it was just through a license photo and that ID was sketchy at best.”

“Sketchy how?” Cragen asked.

“The kid didn’t know how to describe the difference between a truck and an SUV and he identified Drover because that’s the picture we showed him. I still don’t think he’s involved.”

“Fine,” Cragen said with a tone that proved the subject was closed at the moment. “I want you four doing rounds at the soccer complex tonight. Benson, Stabler: you two will start the first round. Munch, Fin: you’ll get the next.”

************************************************************

Tri-State ISA Complex 6

439 West 108th St

9:04PM

The soccer ball smacked against the painted wooden walls of the indoor soccer field and a teenager with a mop of blond curls chased after it, three other boys following close behind him.

The complex was about to close for the night and Olivia thought that she could sleep for the next hundred hours. She and Elliot had been watching the site for several hours, hoping to see someone who looked out of place. Unfortunately, everything Olivia saw only made her biological clock tick louder than ever. Fathers holding younger children, all the while cheering for their older ones out on the fields; mothers pushing toddlers in strollers; children of all ages, everywhere. With the sighting of each family, Olivia felt every day of her thirty-seven years weighing on her.

She glanced at Elliot who was scanning the faces of the dwindling crowd around the oblong field. She knew that he was desperately searching for Drover’s face among the spectators and a part of her wished that Drover would be there too, but she knew he would not. While Drover did not strike her as the most well adjusted person, running through Manhattan streets at night alone, nothing about him seemed like he would be capable of committing this string of murders.

She sighed as the referee on the field in front of them called time on the game. Elliot had said hello to several sets of parents they had seen around the complex, all of whom he had known from attending some of his own children’s soccer games. She could see that he desperately wanted to tell each of the parents to keep a closer watch on their children around the complex, as she wanted to do the same, but they had both been told to keep quiet about the situation at the site to keep from stirring a panic.

The respective teams were in lines shaking hands, congratulating one another on a “good game,” and Olivia felt Elliot shift beside her.

“We calling it a night?” she asked.

He nodded. “I figure another hour as they close up, but yeah.” He stared out at the fake grass field and tall, bright lights. “You know, I saw your friend Maya, yesterday while I was having dinner.”

“Really?” Olivia said, feeling her eyebrows rise. “Where was this?”

“A restaurant on West End,” he said.

“You had dinner together?”

He shook his head. “No, I just happened to look up and she was there. We just talked for a while. She’s a real character, that one.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Maya. So, what’d you talk about?”

“Why?” he said, grinning slightly. “You jealous?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess I don’t have to ask because the only thing you’ve got in common is me.”

“We only talked about you for a little bit,” he said. “She’s cute. She reminds me of you.”

“How?” she said a little louder than she had intended.

Elliot shrugged. “Don’t know. She just seems like a version of you before the world got to you.”

Olivia stared at him for a bit, thinking to herself. Maya was most definitely a character; one who had mentioned on more than one occasion that Elliot seemed like the perfect catch for any woman. The very idea of she and Elliot conversing alone had her more than worried for reasons she could not quite understand.

“What?” Elliot asked when he noticed her staring at him.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just…be careful with Maya.”

“Careful, how?”

“Well…she cheats…often. I wouldn’t want to see you or anybody I cared about involved with that side of her.”

Elliot let out a laugh. “Liv, I’m not even thinking about that. I just thought it was interesting that you two would be so alike and so different at the same time.”

Olivia nodded and smirked, but an uncomfortable silence fell upon them nonetheless. The situation with Kathleen notwithstanding, she and Elliot had few secrets between them, but Olivia told Maya nearly everything. While she trusted Maya wholeheartedly, she could not help but wonder exactly what was said between her and Elliot.

“How long’ve you known one another, anyway?” he added.

She shrugged. “Forever. Hey, it looks like it’s just us and a few other Plain Clothes officers in here. When are Munch and Fin coming tomorrow?”

“They open at noon, so I suspect a little before then.”

“You see anyone out of the ordinary?”

“No,” he sighed. “But, that doesn’t mean he’s not coming back. “

“Exactly,” she said.

“C’mon, Liv. Don’t start that again.”

“Start what? I’m just saying…we don’t know who we’re looking for and for all we know, he’s probably tracked down a different-”

“Olivia, if we close down the site, we’ll never find him.”

“I’m just not sure I’m willing to sacrifice another victim in the hopes that we may track him down here.”

“Well, what other ideas have you got?” he said nearly yelling. “The only prints we have are from the other victims, we only have DNA from one victim, it doesn’t match anything in the system and we haven’t got any suspects to even run it against! We’ve got nothing! If we close down the complex, we lose our only chance at finding this guy.”

She stood silent, unsure what to say. The entire situation annoyed her endlessly. The issue at hand, Jeffrey Drover, was not being expressed, and she could see Elliot was venting his frustration over not finding him.

“Fine,” she said and walked toward the complex exit without another word to him.

The truth of the matter was that she was tired, not only physically, but in every way possible. She was tired of dealing with the stress of the case, tired of feeling her life slipping away from her one day at a time and she was sick of the groove, in which she and Elliot found themselves. One moment, everything appeared like it was getting better, fitting back into place, and a minute later, they were arguing again.

Weeks ago, they had been arguing almost non-stop over the Sennet case and they seemed to have patched up all the sour feelings following her departure from the department months earlier. Yet, there they were, still arguing over things that seemed trite when one considered all that they had endured together. They simply could not get back to where they were and they seemed to drift apart farther the longer they went without a suspect.

A valid suspect, she thought to herself as she hailed a cab.

The thought of sharing a silent ride home with Elliot was almost too much for her. Drover was still at the heart of the problem and Olivia knew that if they did not find another suspect soon, Elliot would explode at the thought that they had Drover just within their grasp and he managed to slip away from them.

A half hour later, Olivia was in her apartment and checking the messages on her home phone. She had three: one from Maya telling her that Elliot had the “cutest dimples” when he was eating, one from Jonathan saying he was having “one of those days” and would not be coming by her place that night and one from her friend Jillian just asking how she was doing.

Olivia dialed *8 on her phone and was speaking to Jillian Harfort a moment later.

“Well, Jordan was excited all day,” Jillian said several minutes into their conversation.

“Was he?” Olivia said.

“He just heaved that basketball up there and after it went in, you couldn’t do anything to wipe that smile off his face. I mean he’d never made a three-pointer in his life and he even did a little dance afterward. Oh, Liv. You should’ve seen it. It was adorable.”

Olivia smiled into the phone as Jillian rattled on about her son Jordan’s basketball game. The same age as Olivia, Jillian Blakendorf, now Harfort, attended Sienna College while Olivia was there and they had been friends for close to twenty years. Her appearance, straight blonde hair cut just below the ear and large, soft blue eyes, often times betrayed her demeanor. She could seem acquiescent and malleable and, as she had once revealed to Olivia, would sometimes keep a vacant expression on her face to give people a false sense of security. While Jillian’s main choice of topic usually surrounded her husband or her children, she had a fierce soul that many found ruthless. Jillian could sound like a “soccer mom” one moment and like the cutthroat litigator she was at heart the next.

Jillian and Maya attended law school together and while Maya set up a very small practice with her own degree, Jillian married and decided her efforts were better served by raising a family. Though she wanted to have the American Dream, at no point had Jillian lost the cold-blooded nature she perfected in law school.

Any time someone close to her was threatened, a side of Jillian seen by few people would erupt and her true forceful nature was revealed. Although she could be cold at times, Jillian had been by Olivia’s side through good times and bad and of the few friends with whom she still kept in touch, Jillian was the most dependable.

“So,” Jillian said. “Jordan and Jeremy are wondering when they’ll get to see their Aunt Liv.”

“I know,” Olivia said. “I’ve been so busy with the caseload. Jonathan and I barely even have time to see one another.”

“You need a vacation.”

“Tell me about.”

“No, seriously,” Jillian said. “You need to take a break before you just fall down out of exhaustion.”

“Of course, I do, Jill, but when? The second I think I can take some time for myself, a case falls on my lap that I can’t just leave for someone else.”

“But, you have to take time for you.”

“Well, it’s not happening anytime soon, so I’m not going to worry about it,” Olivia said sitting on her couch to rewrite the notes she had made that day concerning Daniel Richardson.

Jillian was silent on the phone for a moment. “You’re working this thing I’ve heard about the boys in the city, aren’t you?”

“Jill…”

“No, I know you can’t tell me about it, but I can tell. That’s probably why you’re calling back now when I called you around six. Although, I honestly can’t remember the last time you were actually home in the evening.”

“Neither can I.”

“But…” Olivia could hear Jillian hesitate. “I’m worried Olivia. I mean I know all this is happening in the city, which makes me so glad we’re in Connecticut, but it’s just that no one’s saying anything about it, which just makes us parents worry more.”

“Jill, there’s nothing to say. Trust me. If we had a guy in custody, you’d know about it.”

“I’m also worried about you too. I know how you take these kinds of cases and I know that your partner’s probably not being all that pleasant with this either.”

Olivia was unable to stifle her sigh into the phone. While Maya had met Elliot a few times since she lived in the city, Jillian had not, but it did not stop her from forming her own negative opinion of him. Olivia blamed herself for the problem because the only times she ended up telling Jillian about Elliot was when they were arguing about something. She usually saved the stories of the delightful times with her partner for Maya and it was not until a few months ago that she noticed the discrepancy.

She had told Jillian that Elliot was talking to his estranged wife and that they seemed to still be on good terms, but Jillian seemed to think that Elliot did not deserve to have his wife return to him. Since then, Olivia had made a clear effort to highlight the positive parts of her relationship with her partner.

“He’s got kids this same age,” Olivia said.

“I see,” Jillian said with a tone that suggested that she did not care how old Dickie and Lizzie were. “Well, I know my boys haven’t seen you in ages. You wouldn’t believe how tall Jordan’s getting. It’s almost like someone’s stretching him out at night. When’s the soonest you think you could get out here? Or we could even come to you.”

Olivia glanced toward the calendar that lied flat on her desk and across the room. “Probably not until…February,” she lied. “Late February. March even.”

She could barely keep plans with Jonathan who lived twenty minutes away from her, but Olivia still did not want to discount her friend all together. In truth, she wanted very much to see Jillian’s children, as she was their godmother, but she did not want to set plans she would not be able to keep. She had seen Elliot do the same too often not to know that there would repercussions at some point if she could not keep her promises.

“Well, how about you pencil us in for around the 16th of February,” Jillian laughed, “unless you and Jonathan are doing something special that weekend for Valentine’s.”

Olivia scoffed. “Yeah, well if we manage to have dinner that night, it’ll be a miracle.”

“I still think it’s a miracle Sarah and I picked a guy that actually worked. You cost me fifty bucks.”

She smiled into the phone, knowing how much Jillian loved to rub in the fact that she had set her up with Jonathan. “You set me up with someone you thought wouldn’t work out and bet on it?”

“Yep, but I figured you deserved a nice dinner with a good looking guy since you seemed to be giving up for a while there. I guess the money was worth it, but it’s really the principle of the thing.”

They talked until Jillian had to leave when Jeremy, aged five, woke up because he had an “accident,” and the moment she set down her phone, it began ringing again.

She closed her eyes and sighed before she answered it. “Benson.”

“Uh…hi, Olivia? It’s Kathleen.”

“Hi,” Olivia said, her tone raising several pitches. “What’s up?”

“Um…I wanted to know if…uh…I-er…um, we could make…um…an appointment for the doctor. You know…about what we talked about on Saturday?”

Olivia paused for a moment as she put together what Kathleen was trying to say. “Yeah. That…that’s fine. What day is best for you?”

“Um…how ‘bout Friday? Can we do it, like at night or something?”

Another uncomfortable pause was heard over the phone. Olivia knew Kathleen wanted to make a doctor’s appointment for later Friday evening so that she could simply tell her parents that she was “out” and would be able to avoid telling them anything altogether.

“Well, it’d be kind of hard to get a doctor’s appointment with my doctor on a Friday evening, but…” She racked her brain for a moment, thinking about what she would do if she were in Kathleen’s position. “If we went to the free clinic, they’d be open later and we could get your prescription right there.”

“Yeah!” Kathleen said, nearly shouting. “That’s great. Do you want me to call or…?”

Olivia unintentionally rolled her eyes before answering. “Well, I can…I can call tomorrow and make the appointment for you. I’ll just say it’s for my daughter or something.” She heard Kathleen let out a little giggle. “So, would six be okay?”

“Perfect!”

“You’re sure you don’t want your mom to come? Because I know if you were my daughter…”

“Olivia,” she interrupted. “If I were your daughter, I know I’d be able to just straight talk to you about this. I don’t want to tell her. Not yet, at least. And I really don’t want my dad to know.”

“Okay,” Olivia said nodding into the phone. “I understand. Well, I’ll…make that appointment for this Friday at six. I’ll just pick you up from your house or something.”

“Well…” Kathleen began and Olivia flinched. Their conversation was becoming more deceptive with every passing moment. “How ‘bout I just meet you at Schreider’s again and then we’ll go from there?”

Olivia sighed. “That…that’ll work. So, Schreider’s, this Friday at six. I’ll make the appointment for six-thirty so we’ll have some time.”

“Great! Thanks so much, Olivia!”

“No problem,” she said and then hung up the phone.

She put her hand to her stomach, suddenly feeling both queasy and a burning sensation from deep within her abdomen. She ran a hand through her hair and groaned. Having nearly forgotten about the predicament with Kathleen, Olivia felt the strain of stress pressing on her from all sides.

She heard a buzz from her intercom and she considered just leaving whoever it was outside in the cold.

“Who is it?” she asked a minute later into the intercom.

“Repo Man!”

“Jonathan,” she said in a low voice. “I’m really tired and I thought you said you were busy?”

“I was, now I’m not and my first thought was on you.”

“Yeah and I’m sure you were thinking with your head instead of your dumbstick.”

“Whatever, whatever,” he said through the intercom. “Seriously, Liv. It’s like fifteen degrees out here.”

She sighed. “Come on up.”

Ten minutes later, she was lying on her couch wrapped in Jonathan’s arms. Olivia nuzzled her face into his chest and, as she smelled the cologne she had purchased for him a month earlier as a Christmas gift, her memory drifted to one of the most pleasant Christmases she had experienced since she was a small child.

************************************************************

“I got you a little something,” Olivia had said as she pointed a small, neatly-wrapped gift toward Jonathan.

Her living room was dark save for the small white lights that twinkled from her plastic tree near the window and Christmas music echoed softly from the iPod Maya had given her a month earlier for an Indian celebration. The lights from her tree reflected in Jonathan’s eyes and seemed to dance as he smiled at the gift.

“A little something, eh?” Jonathan had said. “How little is little?”

“A little, little.”

“Ah, now it makes sense.”

She hugged him and whispered “Merry Christmas” in his ear as they fell onto her sofa together. He kissed her cheek and began to rip at the wrapping paper that covered the small box.

“It’s cologne,” Jonathan said once the box was opened. “You trying to tell me I stink or something?”

“Well, I figured it would be the most subtle way of saying it.”

He smiled as he pulled the small bottle out of its box. “What’s this called?”

“Jealousy believe it or not.”

“Why wouldn’t I believe it’s called Jealousy?”

“You’ll see. Spray away.”

Jonathan gave her a suspicious smirk and sprayed a mist onto his neck. He blinked for a few minutes as the fragrance dissolved into his skin and then turned to gawk at Olivia, his mouth hanging slightly.

“Wait a minute. I think I remember this…Olivia…”

“It wasn’t until last year,” Olivia began with a nonchalant air to her voice, “that I was first really pressed with the question ‘What do you get for someone who has absolutely everything?’ I only just pulled it off last year.”

“You did great though. But…but this…”

She nodded. “Yeah, but this year, I’ve had time to plan. Remember our first date? Remember how that guy passed by our table and I said he smelled good and you got that look on your face like you were jealous already.”

“Yeah…you told me you’d get me some of whatever he was wearing, but how…?”

“How did I find it? It took forever and ever and thousands of stores and thousands of hours of smelling things with Maya and Sarah, but I finally found it. Cool that it’s called Jealousy, huh?”

Jonathan laughed. “How’d you even remember something like this? It was close to two years ago.”

“I pay attention to all the small things.”

He smiled at her and brought out a small box from his pocket. “Well…speaking of small things…”

“Oh no. What have you done now?”

Jonathan refused to answer, but batted his eyes at her as he handed Olivia the box. She mimicked his suspicious smirk and quickly opened it. When she saw the red box from Cartier, Olivia’s heart skipped a beat wondering if Jonathan had splurged to pop the question, but she opened the box to find a much smaller black case. She nudged him as he chuckled at the fluster that had appeared on her face and opened the smaller case to find subtle, half-carat diamond earrings.

“I figured I’d goad you a bit with the case from Cartier.”

“Oh, you did more than goad,” Olivia said as she replaced her small gold hoops with the diamond studs. “You just about gave me a heart failure.”

“Well, I know you don’t like anything flashy, but…I’m a Halloway and I just couldn’t help myself.”

Olivia nudged him again and kissed him as leaned against her sofa cushions. She heard something crinkle under their combined weight and she released him as she felt him tense beneath her.

“What was that?” she asked. “Are you hiding something behind the couch cushions?”

A familiar boyish grin spread across Jonathan’s face as he reached between the pillows on her couch.

“I didn’t think I was going to be attacked like that so quickly,” he said and removed something wide and flat from the depths of the sofa.

“What on earth?”

“You’re not the only one who can give the thoughtful gifts. Open it.”

Eyes wide with wonder, Olivia ripped the paper from the gift and was met with her own smiling face in an image taken two years earlier. Jonathan, dressed in his best Armani, twirled her in a Ralph Lauren dress into which she had poured half a paycheck as they stood on the dance floor of a cheap karaoke bar.

“Now,” Jonathan said, pulling her very close, “I know you remember our first date.”

“How could I forget? Sarah and Jillian lured us both to that restaurant, but we ditched the place and went karaoke singing in our formal wear. It might’ve been the best night of my life. But, where’d you get this?”

“The little Mexican guy who going around there taking pictures that night. I went back there the next day and bought the picture because I knew how special it was.”

“You’re too much, you know that?”

“I’m serious,” he said as he nuzzled her neck. “It was a special moment and I knew I’d want to give it to you someday.”

“Why’s that?”

“So, you could have a record of the exact moment when I fell for you.”

Olivia closed her eyes to keep from allowing the pure joy of the moment to flow out of her in the form of tears. Jonathan shifted off the couch and pulled her up into a slow dance in the middle of her living room.

“See that Liv?” he said as he hugged her. “We both thought of the same night. Our minds are already in sync.”

She reached up to kiss him softly while Otis Redding’s rendition of “White Christmas” began to play through her stereo. Jonathan pulled her close to him as they danced a slow circle in the dark, brushing kisses against one another as they moved.

“Have you come up with any little resolutions for the new year yet?” he mumbled close to her face.

Olivia sighed with a smile. She had been on-call that night as she was the one without family and had volunteered for the shift, but no calls had buzzed through her cell phone throughout the night.

“Well,” she said after a full minute, “I had been promising myself to get to know my cousin a little better and maybe train for the marathon, but as of right now, all I want is to be held by you.”

Jonathan squeezed her tighter and smiled into her hair. The pair turned to the tune of the slow song and Olivia felt her heartbeat become one with Jonathan’s. As he turned her on the same spot, time seemed to melt away along with the cares for anything but the man whose arms enveloped her.

************************************************************

Jonathan rubbed Olivia’s back as she lied nearly on top of him, eliciting a low purr from her throat. “How was your day or should I just change the subject?”

“New topic,” Olivia said softly.

She felt him laugh. “That bad eh?”

“New topic,” she repeated.

“The job or something else and the job?”

“The latter and I thought we were onto a new topic?”

“Well,” Jonathan continued. “I can probably guess what’s wrong with the job, but what else is wrong?”

“New topic,” she mumbled again into his shirt.

“Seriously, Liv,” he said nudging her in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed. “Elliot.”

Jonathan tensed beneath her. “Why him? What’s he done?”

“Nothing. It’s his daughter.”

“Which one? Doesn’t he have, like, five kids?”

“Four and it’s his second one, Kathleen. She wants birth control and she’s too afraid to ask either of her parents about it.”

“And, how does that concern you?”

“Well, I’ll give you one guess as to who she’s come to for help.”

“Still don’t see how it’s your problem.”

Olivia maneuvered herself out of his arms. It was not like Jonathan to be curt when something was bothering her. “Well, aren’t you being a complete jerk about this?”

He sighed. “Liv…If you get stressed out because of the job, that’s understandable. But to get all worked up over your partner’s kid, Liv, that’s ridiculous.”

“I’ve known her since she was ten years old.”

“So. That doesn’t make her your responsibility. It’s your partner’s kid. If she’s having problems, he should be the one to deal with it. And, I’m pretty sure she’s got a mother too. I don’t see why you should be stressed out over their problem.”

She moved away from him on the couch and glared at him. “You can’t see why I’d want to help out Elliot’s daughter? Are you serious?”

“Olivia,” he said rolling his eyes. “She’s not your kid.”

“And neither are the ones I help every day.”

“But, those kids are different. They’ve got real problems. You shouldn’t be penalized because your partner can’t control his kids.”

“Kathleen doesn’t want to go to her parents and neither would any girl her age in her situation. Elliot is perfectly capable of taking care of his kids.”

A smug smile spread across Jonathan’s face. “Well, obviously he’s not since his kids can’t go to him with their problems and he’s let his marriage fall apart.”

The nausea that had subsided when she fell into Jonathan’s arms earlier returned in full swing and she quickly stood.

“You know what?” she said. “I’ve just realized I’ve got a lot of work to do seeing as how I’ve got rapists and pedophiles and killers to track down. Maybe you should go home and I’ll call you a little later.”

“You’re serious?”

“Oh, I’m real serious.”

Jonathan sat on the couch for a minute, mouth agape before he finally stood to look down at her from his six-foot two frame.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll call you later. When you’re a little less busy or whatever.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

“Well,” he said as he stood at the door, the expression on his face still registering shock that she would throw him out in the middle of the night. “I...well, I guess I really will just call you later.”

“Good night,” she said in a sing-song voice, closing the door behind him.

Olivia returned to her notes on Daniel Richardson, shaking her head all the while. Things between her and Elliot might have been bad, but she could not sit idly by and allow someone to bad mouth her partner the way Jonathan had.

Her stomach rumbled and she leaned her head back against the coach. Perhaps, if she had the strength to rummage through her medicine cabinet, she might find a Tums or a bottle of Pepto-Bismol to settle the pains in her stomach.

************************************************************

Unknown Time and Place

Screaming.

He had always loved it; that scream. It was not the final one; far from it. It was the scream she made, they all made, in that moment she knew death was imminent. The scream that said all hope had faded and fear had completely overtaken her.

She screamed and he smiled, reveling in the sound as it echoed through dark halls and wet walls. This one had bored him for much too long and now was the time to put her away with all the others.

His hands sparkled in the miniscule light to which only he was accustomed as he ran both of them up her chest and toward her throat. He was still inside of her and he paused briefly considering if he should wait until he reached climax or continue onward.

He slid his hands forward. There was no need to wait. Climax would come with her last breath.

He could feel her blood pulsing through her veins against the skin on his rough hands and he spread his fingers about the soft orifice of her neck. The muscles in her throat clenched sensing the impending pressure while he pushed his palms forward against her windpipe. Her entire body tensed around him and beads of sweat appeared on his brow in anticipation for the release.

His mind was electric as the small muscles in his hand applied slow pressure against her windpipe. More and more. Harder and harder. The stronger the pressure, the softer her scream and he continued to press his hands upon her.

With a final exertion of pressure to her throat, the windpipe gave way at last and he felt it break within his grasp. Her arms flailed wildly about him, struggling harder against him and slapping at anything within reach as his drops of sweat splashed onto her face.

Pale skin turned red and brown eyes bulged from their sockets, but he continued to hold her without a movement or hurried breath. The seconds ticked away and her eyes darted around as her brain began its last efforts to save itself from an untimely end.

And then...

His eyes locked onto hers looking for that which he loved more than any scream. The second her brain ceased to function and her soul vapored out from her eyes and dissipated into the cold air about them. The bright flecks of gold and green that once livened her face melted into a sea of dark brown and her arms slowly fell to her sides. He could feel her body relaxing all around him and watched as the last vestiges of life floated out of her. To know that he had ended a human life, to know that never again would this soul walk the earth, engage with him and scream for him. He felt simply exhilarated.

With all oxygen depleted from her lungs and the cells of her body deprived of the electrical impulses needed to function, her heartbeat slowly came to a stop and he bucked forward finally achieving climax.

Her body was still warm and he kissed her graciously on the lips, relishing the taste of her last warmth. He climbed off and sighed. In the end, she had been quite fun. Perhaps if she had put up the same type of vigor in the past, he may not have grown so very bored with her.

But, that was in the past and he would now have to simply tuck her away with all the others. He would put her away; where he placed all the others with whom he had grown bored. The odor of all the past ones was more than foul, but there was no reason to move them elsewhere. Moving them from outside of his grasp would only involve outsiders; those who would not, could not, understand the way things were and the way things had to be.

He was not worried. He still had the others and there were always more to be found. He could replace her and any of those who bored him. And he would replace the new ones too, should the time come.

Flight, a novel ~ Part One - Chapter Five

Tuesday January 16, 2007

SVU Squad room

The doors to the fifth floor elevator opened and Elliot stepped into the corridor that led to the SVU squad room. In one hand, he held a four-cup cup holder in which stood two tall coffees; one black with two sugars, the other black with three, and in the other hand, he held a small, white bag that carried three blueberry muffins.

Aside from calling her, Elliot had no way of knowing whether or not Olivia would be at the precinct, as it was a little after six-thirty in morning, but he took a chance regardless and hoped to make up for their argument the previous night with “I’m sorry” muffins and coffee.

As he entered the squad room, he found Olivia at her desk, focused on her computer monitor, alone except for the three other officers sitting at other desks throughout the room.

“Morning,” he said softly, as he got to their desks.

“Hey,” she said brightly looking up at him.

“Brought you some coffee and a muffin,” he said handing her the bag.

She smiled. “How’d you know I’d even be here this early?”

“It’s me, Olivia,” he said taking his coffee from the cup holder. “I just knew.”

Olivia shook her head, but smiled just the same.

“So, what are you doing in so early?” he asked.

“Oh, I thought you knew me,” she teased. “It’s you, remember? You just knew.”

Elliot shrugged and popped a piece of the large muffin into his mouth with a smile.

“Well,” she continued, “seeing as how I couldn’t get any sleep last night, I figured I’d get here a little early to catch up on the paperwork from the other cases last week and look more into this latest one.”

“Why can’t you sleep?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Just stressed I guess. Anyway, I’ve been going through as many records as I could, so don’t get settled just yet.”

“What’d you find?”

“I tracked down Ricky Schrader’s birth mother. She lives in Redhook on Wolcott and I think we should talk to her since Ricky had been sneaking out to see her before he died. She might know more about it, especially since he’s kind of the odd one out from the four of them.”

Elliot nodded and put his arms back through his coat as Olivia gathered her own. “You think she’ll be up?”

“Well, by the time we get all the way out to Brooklyn…hopefully she’ll be either in or coherent. Though, reading through some of these files, there’s a good chance she won’t be. I’ve got the keys. Bring the muffins.”

He smiled at her, muffin bag in hand, as they both got onto the elevators.

************************************************************

Olivia sighed as they reached the mouth of the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel. She had been born and raised in Manhattan and she had grown up with the notion that New York, outside of Manhattan was not worth visiting, even if only for a day. Everything she ever needed rested on the island and she had many memories of her and Maya proclaiming “We don’t do borough” any time it was suggested that they cross a bridge or go too far north of Manhattan.

“I hate Brooklyn,” she announced to Elliot halfway through the tunnel’s traffic.

“That’s just ‘cause you were raised in Manhattan,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with Brooklyn.”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. I just hate it; all the boroughs. Especially the area where we’re going.”

“You come out to Queens.”

“True, but Queens is not Brooklyn and at least there’s some trees. Redhook is not my idea of a nice drive out of Manhattan.”

“I bet if you had your choice, you probably wouldn’t even leave Manhattan,” Elliot said.

“I’ll leave New York, but not for a borough. I want either countryside or beaches, not bad streets and Section-8 housing.”

Elliot smiled and shook his head. Every once in a while, bits of Olivia’s upbringing would spill out of her and he could only smile in response. An only child raised by an English professor, Olivia’s childhood differed greatly from Elliot’s with his three other siblings all raised on their father’s NYPD salary. The differences rarely came out and usually coincided when their cases brought them out of Manhattan.

A while later, they reached the dilapidated building where one Veronica Schrader lived and Olivia felt her eyebrows furrow unintentionally as she looked for a place to park. As they walked into the building, Elliot could feel Olivia tense behind him.

They knocked on the door marked “7E” and the scene before them looked like a Hollywood cliché. The woman who answered the door was wearing worn and frayed silk pajamas printed with large flowers and her poorly dyed red hair looked as though it had not been properly combed, brushed or even washed in several days. The lines in her face and the glaze over her eyes gave the appearance of someone who had not slept in a year.

“Yes,” she said in a low, gruff voice.

“Morning,” Elliot said pulling his badge from his coat pocket. “I’m Detective Stabler and this is Detective Benson. May we speak with a Veronica Schrader?”

The woman stared between both of them for a moment before replying. “Yeah, that’s me. What do the cops want? I don’t have nothing on me.”

“Has anyone contacted you about your son Ricky?” Olivia asked.

Veronica squinted at Olivia. “Who ACS? They haven’t told me nothing since I tried to get Ricky back years ago.”

Olivia and Elliot exchanged glances. There was a possibility that she had no idea that her son had been killed.

“Mrs. Schrader,” Olivia began. “May we come in?”

She stared at each of them again for a long time before stepping back and letting them into her apartment. The small apartment was stuffy and the empty boxes and bags of fast food and take-out dishes littered nearly every surface and added to the pungent odor of cigarette smoke and garbage that floated throughout the place.

Veronica closed the door behind them and took a cigarette from a box at the end of her coffee table.

“So,” she said. “What’chu need from me? ‘Cause Ricky don’t stay here no more. Not since they took ‘im from me.”

“Mrs. Schrader,” Olivia said. “Ricky was found by Tompkins Square Park. I’m so sorry, but he’s been killed.”

Elliot and Olivia waited for the normal storm of sorrow or fury from Veronica, but none came. She lit her cigarette with a near empty Bic lighter and sat down on the dirty beige couch that took up much of the living room.

“When did this happen?”

“He was found Saturday,” Olivia said, “but it looks like he might have been killed last Thursday.”

Veronica took a long drag on her cigarette. “So, you’re saying someone killed my Ricky close to a week ago and I’m just now finding out?”

“We are sorry,” Olivia said. “We were under the impression that ACS had contacted you about him.”

Veronica flicked her pinky finger and let the cigarette ashes fall directly to the floor. She was perfectly calm and was not showing the slightest reservations about the news. “Well, two years ago some lady from ACS asked me if I wanted to try and get him back. ‘Course I was high at the time and I didn’t know what I was sayin’ so when I said no, she made me sign some forms and that was that. They said that I didn’t have to…uh…‘be notified’ of anything goin’ on with Ricky. So, no, no one told me that my Ricky was dead, though it’s nice of you to show up…days later.”

An uncomfortable silence floated through the room and Olivia opened her mouth to apologize again, but thought against it. Veronica was clearly in a state, though she had an odd way of showing it, and apologizing again for not notifying her sooner would not help the situation.

“So,” Veronica continued, “are you gonna tell me what happened or what?”

“It looks like someone strangled him,” Elliot said. “And, it looks like he was raped.”

Veronica nodded and took another drag on the cigarette. “Somebody raped ‘im…Well, that’s just great. You people take ‘im from me because I hit ‘im a couple o’ times and now he’s dead. That’s a great goddamn’ system you’ve got there.”

“Mrs. Schrader,” Olivia began.

“Just Veronica,” she said. “Nobody ever calls me ‘Misses.’ Just Veronica.”

“Veronica,” Olivia said. “We spoke with the Vonnexes, Ricky’s foster parents. They said that he would sometimes runaway to come see you. Is that true?”

She nodded and stared at the floor. “Yeah, he’d come by to see me. The first few times, he’d show up crying about them people.”

“About the Vonnexes?” Olivia said.

“Yeah, those crazy people ACS placed ‘im with. Ricky said they wanted ‘im to play a bunch sports and trying to make ‘im be Superboy or something. They coulda asked me. I’da told them, Ricky don’t like all that stuff. No wonder he kept running away.”

“When was the last time you saw Ricky?” Elliot asked.

Veronica stared at Elliot a long time, as if thinking had become very difficult. “Last…Wednesday, I think. Yeah, ‘cause I remember he brung me flowers and we watched American Idol together.”

“Do you remember what time he left?”

“Sometime after the show was done, I guess.”

“Did he say he was going anywhere afterward?”

“How the hell should I know?” Veronica said, her voice growing louder. “I didn’t even know how the hell he got all the way over here. Those people ACS had ‘im placed with lived all the way across the damn city.”

“Did he take a bus or a cab?”

She shrugged. “Guess so…yeah, actually he did because the time before last he called the number for a cab company to come pick ‘im up.”

“Did you ever think to tell the Vonnexes?” Olivia asked.

“Why the hell should I? He’s my kid. They lived on the Upper West Side and probably had all the money in the world. They coulda had any kid in the world and they had to have mine.”

“You beat your son,” Elliot said.

Veronica stood up and crossed the room one step to stand directly in front of Elliot. “I hit Ricky, one time and they took ‘im away from me. Just one time and then they took ‘im away, saying I was an unfit mother. Tell me you never hit your kids once.”

“Not to the point where the government would step in and take them from me.”

“Screw you!” she said and turned to sit back on her couch. “You two can leave now!”

“We’re investigating your son’s case,” Olivia said, almost pleading with Veronica. “We just want to know if you knew anyone who might have wanted to hurt Ricky or paid him any special attention.”

“Ricky was ten when they took ‘im from me,” she said. “What the hell would somebody want with a kid that young?”

“Do you have any enemies or anyone who might’ve hurt Ricky to get back at you?”

Veronica scowled at Olivia. “You mean, do I owe any of my drug dealers any money? And the answer’s no. I stopped doing that stuff and I was all paid up before I quit.”

“Well, how about old neighbors or boyfriends?” Olivia continued not phased by the accusation. “What about Ricky’s father? Is he in the picture at all?”

“Ricky’s father?” she said with a laugh. “He ain’t been in the picture since he entered it. No idea where the hell he is.”

“Boyfriends then?”

“Haven’t had a lot of time for boyfriends lately,” she said. “You know, since I’m payin’ my way through law school and stuff.”

“Do you even care that your son’s dead?” Elliot said, having had his fill with the woman before him.

Veronica shook her head. “I care. But, what am I s’posed to do about it? Huh? Ricky was alive and happy when he was with me, then you people take ‘im away and give ‘im to this happy family on the West Side and now he’s dead. He was miserable for years and now he’s dead. That’s what I call irony.”

“Look,” Olivia said, pleading again. “If you can think of anyone. Anyone at all who paid Ricky a lot of attention, it could help us track down the person who killed him.”

She took a long drag of her cigarette and nodded again. “I guess…Only guy I can remember was an old boyfriend who used to hang around before Ricky got taken away from me. He used to take Ricky out to like, ball games and parks and fatherly junk like that.”

“What happened?” Olivia asked.

“Well, he wasn’t Ricky’s father, was he? He shouldn’ta been doing all that. ‘Sides, he kept making Ricky think that I was the bad guy, when he knew I was trying to get clean. Guess all that don’t even matter now.”

“This boyfriend,” Olivia said, reaching for the pad and pen in her pocket. “What was his name?”

“Wha?” Veronica said eyes wide and eyebrows high. “That was like a hundred years ago!”

“Any name you can think of would be helpful. We just want to talk to him.”

She stood for a moment, littering her cigarette ashes onto the floor again. “Yeah, okay…um…Uh, something quick like Jordan or something. Jordan…uh…Jordasche…no, I think it was something more like…uh…Draven…Driven…Drover? Drover! Yeah, that was it. Jeffy Drover.”

Elliot and Olivia glanced at one another and Olivia could see Elliot’s eye twitch slightly.

“Yeah,” Veronica continued. “That sack a crap! He told Ricky once to flush all my stuff, the bastard. And, when I ended up hitting Ricky because he stole and I’d told ‘im stealing was wrong and we were better than that, Ricky called the police on me. I’da known Jeffy woulda put ‘im up that. God…that was three years ago. I never even gotta chance to tell Ricky I was sorry.”

************************************************************

Olivia had no option but to smirk at the pure elation on Elliot’s face as they raced back to the 1-6. He looked liked a little boy who had been told Christmas was coming early that year from the news that they finally had what they needed to bring in Jeffrey Drover.

The loose affiliation of the other victims could have given them grounds to speak to Drover, but the fact that Ricky Schrader was completely out of the mix of the other victims kept the from doing so. However, with confirmation that Drover had not only a connection to another victim, but had interacted with him on a personal basis, the detectives had more than enough evidence to finally bring Drover to the precinct and probe him on the murders.

Within thirty minutes, Elliot and Olivia were walking into the precinct ready to spread the news that they needed to speak to Drover, however the moment they stepped off the elevators, Fin stopped them, shaking his head.

“There’s been another one,” Fin said. “Avenue A and East 11th.”

“Same guy?” Olivia said.

Fin nodded. “Warner and Munch are down there now. It’s the same as the others.”

“We need to talk to Drover,” Elliot said. “We just talked to Ricky Schrader’s mother and she used to date him years ago. She said Drover used to act like a father figure for Ricky.”

“You two go,” Olivia said. “I’ll look up Drover and we’ll bring him in today.”

Elliot gave her a nod and he and Fin headed back out to the street.

As they approached the scene at Avenue A, more press was present than with any of the other cases. Complete with news station vans and whole camera crews, the area outside the crime scene looked like a complete circus.

They made their way through reporters shouting dozens of questions at them and through the police barricades to find Melinda and the crime scene unit surrounding a green dumpster in the alley behind a row of apartments. Just beside the dumpster, stood a large brown box, out of which Elliot could make out tufts of brown hair crowning the box’s opening.

“Same guy,” Melinda said when she saw Fin and Elliot. “And it looks like he’s gone back to his roots.”

“He’s gone back to both the box and white kids,” Munch said.

“ID?” Elliot said. “Age?”

“Nothing so far on the ID,” Munch said, “but he looks about twelve or thirteen.”

Elliot shook his head.

“There’s something else,” Melinda said. “This boy’s been dead for probably a day. He might’ve even been killed close to the same time as Daniel Richardson.”

“You’re sure it’s the same guy?” Fin said.

“I won’t know for sure until I have a close look at him, but everything’s the same as the others, right down to the ligature marks on the neck.”

“This is crazy,” Munch said. “This makes four kids in five days! There has to be a copycat.”

“Evidence points to the same guy,” Fin said.

“But Jacob Lewendale was found a good five days before Connor Whickfield. If this is the same guy, he’s getting too adventurous and he’s wasting no time.”

“And he likes this area,” Fin said looking around at the buildings before him. “Weren’t both Jacob and Connor found in Tompkins Square Park?”

“Yeah,” Elliot said.

Fin shook his head. “Ricky Schrader was found four blocks north of here at 7th, Daniel Richardson was found at 9th and Avenue C, and here we are now. Every kid has been found within close to a mile radius of each other.”

“He knows this area,” Elliot said, nodding to himself. “He knows it really well.”

“Do we know who found the body yet?” Fin asked.

“Garbage man,” Munch said. “He was about to pick up the dumpster when he saw the box…We need to get Huang in on this. Why the hell would he go back to the box?”

“Maybe trying to throw us off track,” Fin said. “He put two kids in the park and then starts putting them in alleys leading up to the park. He’s spreading it out to keep people from noticing him going to the same place.”

“But the box,” Munch said. “It doesn’t make any sense. Pedophiles are strict and meticulous. If putting the kids in the box was what got him off, they’d all’ve been in boxes, but they weren’t. If he’d moved past the box fetish, then why go back to it now?”

“Maybe it’s like Liv said,” Elliot said as he pulled his ringing phone from his pocket and bringing it up to his ear. “What’s if he’s not a really a pedophile at all? Stabler.”

“Elliot,” Olivia said from the other end. “I found Drover’s workplace. He works for this accounting firm, Rohlman-Hayworth. They’re on the fifth floor of the building at 3rd and St. Marks.”

“Right,” Elliot said. “Meet me there in an hour.”

“Was that Olivia?” Munch said.

“Yeah, she found where Drover works. It’s actually just a few blocks from here.”

“We’re back on this Drover again?” Munch asked with raised eyebrows.

“Some of us never left him,” Elliot said as he turned to face the crowds of shouting people and news cameras.

An hour later, Munch and Fin were working on an ID for the latest victim after the three of them had spoken to some of the neighbors around the alley. Elliot sat in his car and after a few moments, Olivia came into his view on 3rd Avenue where St. Marks Place, Stuyvesant Street and 3rd Avenue all seemed to come together.

He had only been waiting for a few a minutes when he saw her and he practically jumped out of the car, anxious to get into the building. All he could think about was how close Drover was to the entire situation. He lived and worked just a few blocks away from the mile radius in which all the boys had been found. They were finally making headway in a case that seemed to be going nowhere.

With several flashes of their NYPD badges later, Elliot and Olivia stood in the office of Viktor Hammond, Drover’s manager.

“Jeff’s not in,” the small-framed Mr. Hammond said. “I suggested he take some time off and he took it.”

“Why did you have to suggest it?” Olivia asked.

“If you saw him Friday, you would’ve too,” Mr. Hammond said resting backwards against his desk. “He was a wreck after finding that boy, and honestly, I don’t know a sane person who wouldn’t have been. I told him to take the week off. Relax and get his thoughts together. Maybe talk to a therapist. I’m not sure when the family’s going to have the funeral, but I wanted to make sure he went so he could pay his respects.”

“Do you have any idea where he might be now?” Elliot said, his eyes squinting in frustration.

Mr. Hammond shrugged. “Maybe home? I have no idea.”

“Did he leave a number where he could be reached?” Elliot asked.

“No, when I told him to take some time on Friday, he protested for a bit and then he just left. I told him to come back Monday the twenty-second, but knowing Jeff he’ll probably be back in tomorrow or Thursday. If you need to talk to him, I would start at his apartment. He lives on…hold on just a moment. I can have my secretary look him up.”

“That’s okay,” Olivia said. “We know where he lives. Thank you for your time.”

They began to leave the office when Mr. Hammond stopped them with another question.

“Just out of curiosity,” he began. “Why do you need to speak with him?”

“We just have a few more questions for him as we continue our investigation,” Elliot said and he followed Olivia out of the door.

They left Elliot’s car on St. Marks Place and took Olivia’s, as she was double-parked, to the 14th Street Loop, where Drover lived.

“He lives and works down here, Liv,” Elliot said as they were entering the building, having called the superintendent moments earlier. “I bet he’s been out here for years. He probably knows every alley on the Lower East Side like his own apartment.”

Olivia merely nodded as they knocked on the super’s door.

“I called up there,” the super said, once they were inside his apartment. “I don’t think he’s home, but I don’t see him enough to know what times he comes and goes. We’ve got a lot of tenants.”

“Can you let us into his place?” Elliot asked, but Olivia put up her hand slightly to keep the super from responding.

“We don’t have probable cause,” she whispered to Elliot. “And, we don’t have a warrant. If we find anything incriminating, we won’t be able to use it.”

“We could see his place if the super just happened to be checking in on him and we just happened to be there.”

Olivia gave him a look that immediately read “Stop,” but he continued, sardonically.

“I mean, technically, the man’s missing since no one’s seen or heard from him in three or four days. He could’ve had a heart attack and could be lying half dead up there.”

She pulled Elliot toward the super’s apartment door and stepped very close to him. “He didn’t murder those boys here, Elliot. That kind of thing takes space and privacy.”

Elliot sighed. “What if he’s got a kid somewhere, right now?”

“We don’t have probable cause and he’s not here. There’s no use in trampling his Fourth Amendment rights in the hopes of getting something that might be incriminating in his apartment. Not if some judge is just going to turn around and throw out whatever we might find. We’ll find him. We’ll bring him down to the house, we’ll get a warrant and we’ll get him if he did this.”

He stared at her for a long time before nodding and turning to the super. “Thanks. We’ll get back to you if we need you.”

The flurry of movement about the SVU squad room did not stop when Olivia and Elliot stepped off the elevator after leaving Drover’s residence.

“We got an ID on the latest victim,” Cragen said in their direction once they came into view. “Munch and Fin are notifying the parents now.”

“Who was he?” Elliot said.

“Manny Scheibley, thirteen-years-old.” Cragen sighed. “He lived on the West Side and I’m willing to bet money he played soccer at that complex on 108th. I take it you couldn’t find Drover?”

“He hasn’t been to work in a few days and his super doesn’t know if he’s been home or not,” Olivia said.

“He’s gone for now,” Elliot said. “I hope like hell he hasn’t run.”

“How sure are you that he’s involved?”

Elliot glanced at Olivia, but she spoke up first. “He’s the link between each of the victims. Three played soccer at the same place and Drover’s had close contact with two of the victims. It’s not concrete, but there’s a good chance he knows something.”

“All right,” Cragen said. “We’ll keep a look out for him, but I don’t want us to stop looking for any other links between these kids.”

As Elliot and Olivia both nodded, a tall, dark-haired woman stepped off the elevator bringing behind her a little girl, who looked no more than six, dressed all in pink.

“Excuse me,” the woman said, approaching the detectives and their captain. “I’m looking for Detective Stabler.”

“That’s me,” Elliot said. “What can I do for you?”

She pulled his card out of the black purse that hung from her shoulder. “You came by my apartment earlier today. I guess the police found a little boy behind our building and you were knocking on doors. My son was home and he got your card.”

Elliot squinted at her for a moment, before recognizing the features of her face in a twenty-something he had spoken to prior to visiting Drover’s job.

“My name’s Helena Sims and this is my daughter, Carly. When I got home, Brent, my son, told me you’d been by and that’s when Carly said she saw something, I figured you ought to hear.”

A moment later, Elliot, Olivia, Mrs. Sims and Carly sat in one of the more comfortable discussion rooms.

“Tell them what you saw,” Mrs. Sims said to Carly.

Elliot and Olivia watched intently as the little girl bounced in her seat and looked about the room with large, brown eyes.

“Um, today,” Carly said still looking all around the room as she spoke. “I saw a man puttin’ a box by the dumpster.”

“When did you see him?” Elliot asked.

“In the morning when I woke up. I was playing with Jessica on the window and I saw him outside.”

Elliot and Olivia glanced at one another and Mrs. Sims interjected. “Jessica’s this bunny doll thing she plays with all the time.”

“Do you remember the man?” Olivia said softly.

Carly nodded her head and straight, brown hair fell over her eyes. “Yup.”

“Can you tell us what he looked like?” Elliot asked.

“Um…I think so,” Carly said, brightly. “He had…um…well, I don’t know…”

“Well, what did his hair look like?” Olivia asked.

“Uh…I think it was like mine, but it was dark outside, so I couldn’t see real good.”

“Could you see what his skin looked like?” Olivia asked.

Carly nodded her head again. “It was kinda like mine, too.”

“Carly,” Elliot said. “Do you think if you saw him again, you’d be able to tell us what he looked like?”

“I think so.”

“Had you ever seen him before?”

“No. He was a stranger.”

“Did you see anything else he was doing?” Olivia said.

“He was just puttin’ the box by the dumpster. Then, he got in his car and drove away.”

“Do you remember what the car looked like?” Olivia asked.

Carly nodded her head. “Uh-huh. It was black and it was big.”

“Do you think if we should you some pictures of cars you could pick out which one it was?”

“Yup. I think so.”

Elliot and Olivia glanced at one another and then at Mrs. Sims who was wringing her hands. They stood to leave and she followed them.

“You don’t think she saw what was in that box, do you?” she asked, eyes showing morbid concern.

“We’ll have her talk to a psychologist we have with the unit,” Elliot said. “But, we’d like her to work with a specialist first. We want to see if she can pinpoint the car and give us a sketch.”

“Is this going to stress her out? I mean, she’s just a little girl.”

“If she gets tired, we can stop at any time,” Olivia said. “But, we need to act fast. The quicker we can get a statement from her, the better our case will be.”

“But, what if the guy…,” Mrs. Sims said still looking worried. “I mean, she’s just a little girl and I don’t know. What if this guy saw her and he comes after us or something?”

“We’ll get him,” Elliot said reassuring her. “Any information she gives will just help us get him that much faster.”

Mrs. Sims nodded, reached out her hand, which Carly readily grabbed and followed Olivia out of the room.

An hour later, Carly had worked with the sketch artist to give a vague description of the man she saw, and even after a break for Chicken McNuggets and apple juice, she was only able to narrow down the description of the car to a black SUV; whether it was an Expedition or a Range Rover was still under discrepancy.

“Thank you so much,” Elliot said, as Mrs. Sims and Carly were preparing to leave. “We’ll call you if we have any questions.”

The pair left and Olivia sighed looking at the sketch. “This doesn’t look anything like Drover.”

Elliot glanced over her shoulder at the sketch. “Looks enough like him to bring him in.”

“Elliot, you and I saw him and spoke to him. This isn’t going to hold up in court.”

“All I know is, it gives us grounds to bring his ass in here. All we need to do now is find him.”

“How’d the little girl do?” Cragen asked.

“Not so good,” Olivia said. “The sketch she gave is pretty vague and we still don’t know much more about the car.”

“But,” Elliot said, “this is the third time we’ve heard about this black car, truck, SUV, whatever somehow connected to the victims and the crime scene.”

“Well, we’ll sit some uniforms in front of his place for a bit,” Cragen said. “He’s gotta come home at some point.”

“You realize this is a really weak case,” Olivia said to Elliot once Cragen had gone back to answer a phone call in his office.

“What?” Elliot said. “Are you a DA now?”

“I’m serious,” she said. “Even if we can get Drover in here, we couldn’t make charges stick with what we’ve got.”

“You’re assuming that his prints won’t match, his DNA is crap and he won’t crack. He’s good for it and he’ll crack. We just need to get him in here.”

Olivia opened her mouth to respond, but was silenced by her cell phone ringing from her coat pocket.

“Benson,” she said into the phone.

“Uh…yeah, hi,” an unsteady voice said from the other side of the phone. “Um…Detective Benson…I’m not sure if you remember me or not. You gave me your card a few days ago. Anyways, my name’s Jeffrey Drover…well, Jeff.”

“Yes, I do remember you, Jeff,” Olivia said, waving and snapping her fingers to get Elliot’s attention. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, well, I just got home and checked my messages and I saw that my boss called. Apparently, you were looking for me and had some questions for me…I assume about Connor.”

“Yes,” Olivia said. “We do have a couple questions for you. Can you come down to our precinct or would like for us to come get you?”

“Oh, well…uh,” Drover said. “I can just go over there. It shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t know where it is, though. Could you, uh, give me the address?”

Olivia gave Drover the address and Elliot clapped his hands together once she got off the phone.

“Got him!” Elliot said. “He’s coming here. Couldn’t be anymore perfect than that.”

Olivia nodded, but simply stared at her computer monitor.

“What?” Elliot said, noticing her expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like it,” Olivia said.

“What’s not to like? I thought we’d have to issue a city-wide manhunt to track him down and he’s coming here, willingly.”

“Well, I mean, honestly, how many killers would willing come up here if they were actually guilty? How many child molesters can you think of would call the police to see if we had questions?”

Elliot shrugged. “Maybe he thinks he’s got us beat. Maybe he wants to try to rub our faces in it. Most of these guys are confident bastards.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t hear him, Elliot. There was no confidence in his voice at all. He sounds like a guy who just found the body of a kid he used to coach. He still doesn’t strike me as a child molester.”

“Well,” Elliot said. “Maybe it’s like you said earlier. Maybe he’s not a pedophile at all. Maybe he’s just a freak who’s got Mommy issues or something.”

“I still don’t know.”

“Trust me, Liv. He’s good for it.”

************************************************************

SVU Squad room

6:23PM

Jeffrey Drover sat in the dimly lit interrogation room, wearing dark denim jeans and a North Face fleece pullover. His foot tapped nervously and he continuously glanced about the room expecting someone to enter the door behind him.

Through the large two-way mirror that ran across the interrogation room, Elliot and Olivia had watched Drover move about the room for close to two hours. Olivia had ushered him into the room and had told him that they would be in to talk to him in “just a minute.” Since then, Drover had stood up, sat down at the table in the room, looked out the room’s one small, grimy window, sat back down, paced around the room and had taken to tapping his feet while seated. There was no real reason in keeping him waiting; it was just an unwritten rule to see how much the suspect in question would squirm while waiting for detectives.

“How long’s he been waiting?” Cragen said inside in the small room just behind the two-way mirror.

“‘Bout two hours,” Elliot said.

Cragen nodded. “Let him stay another half hour. Then, go in there.”

Olivia gave Cragen and Elliot a slight smirk and walked into the room.

“Hey, look,” Drover said, the moment the door opened. “How long’s this gonna take? You know I’ve got things to do. I thought you said you just had a couple of questions for me.”

“We do,” Olivia said calmly. “I just need to wait for my partner because we have to ask you together.”

“There’s no way you can just do it,” Drover said. “I mean, I trust you. I know you’re not gonna twist my words or anything.”

“It’ll be just a minute more,” Olivia said and she walked out of the room, giving him a wink on her way.

Close to three hours after he entered the precinct, Elliot and Olivia walked into the interrogation room together to question Drover. Elliot sat down at the table across from Drover, spread out several manila folders and papers on the table and began sifting through them. Olivia took the seat in the corner of the room just behind Drover.

“Look,” Drover said after a moment of Elliot’s sifting. “You’ve kept me here three hours. What’s going on?”

“We’re just going to have a little chat here,” Elliot said, a smug, little smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Little chat?” Drover said, eyes wide. He glanced back at Olivia. “What’s he talking about?”

“We just need a little info from you,” Elliot continued.

“Look, I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

Elliot just nodded. “Now, we hear that you used to date a Veronica Schrader. Is that correct?”

Drover squinted at Elliot, confused for a moment. “Um, yeah. Veronica. But that was years ago though. And besides, she was a crackhead who deserved to have her kid take away. But, what does she have to do with this? Did she say I did something to her, ‘cause I haven’t seen her in at least a year.”

“What about her son?” Elliot said. “Ricky. When was the last time you saw him?”

Drover’s expression softened and he stared at the table. “About a year, too. I hoped that maybe with a male influence around he could turn out okay after all.”

“A male influence?”

“Yeah, I mean it was just him and Veronica and she was a junkie.”

“Why’d you date her if she was a junkie?”

“Well, I didn’t know what was wrong with her at first.”

“But, you liked Ricky?”

“Yeah…I mean he’s a great kid. I took him places, you know. Baseball games, hockey games. I even landed some Knicks tickets once. He really loved it. But…you know, I was just trying to do whatever I could to get him out of that house.”

“Out of that house, so you could hurt him?” Elliot said flatly.

Drover’s eyes grow wide. “What? I didn’t hurt Ricky! I could never hurt him!”

“But you wanted him away from his mother?”

“Have you met Veronica? I when I first started dating her, she seemed fine, but then she starts shooting up right in front of her kid. He was just ten years old. No kid needs to see that.”

“And you were trying to do the honorable thing by getting him away from his mother?”

“Like I said, Ricky’s a good kid. I just made sure that he knew getting high wasn’t the purpose of life.”

“And what is?” Elliot said.

“I don’t know,” Drover said with a shrug. “When I’d take him to games or the park to kick a few balls to him, I’d tell him that doing all the things his mother did wasn’t good for him. That if he ever wanted to get anywhere in life, he’d have to stay away from drugs and stuff.”

“And stay away from his mother?”

“Look, why do you keep putting words in my mouth?” Drover yelled. “I didn’t do anything to pull Ricky from his mother. I was trying to help her get cleaned up, but she just wouldn’t, so I could only tell Ricky what to do.”

“Tell him what to do when you molested him.”

“No! I would never do that! I never hurt Ricky! What kind of sick freak do you take me for?”

“Oh, you don’t want me to answer that,” Elliot said, his voice deep and menacing, almost urging Drover to make an errant move on the other side of the table. “We all know just what kind of sick freak you are. We know exactly what you did to Ricky Schrader. How you raped and strangled him.”

“What? Ricky’s dead?”

“You didn’t know?” Olivia asked through furrowed eyebrows.

“No?” Drover said staring at her bewildered.

“How could you not know?” Elliot said fiercely. “It was on every news station. Every newspaper!”

“I’ve been out of it…b-because of Connor. I didn’t know that Ricky was dead. What happened to him?”

“You oughta’ know, Drover,” Elliot said. “We found him right where you left him.”

“Huh? What, are you kidding me? What the hell is all this about?”

Olivia tossed the stack of photos she was holding in front of Drover so that they slid and spread apart perfectly in front of him.

“Wha…what is this?” Drover said, his face displaying disgust.

“It’s what you did, Jeff,” Olivia said. “It’s what you did to those boys.”

“What? This…this is some kind of sick joke. I didn’t kill anyone.”

Elliot leaned over the desk, pulled out a photo from Connor Whickfield’s crime scene and held it up for Drover to see.

“You did this to a thirteen-year-old boy.”

Drover shook his head. “I could…I could never hurt Connor,” he whispered. “I…he was one of my kids. I could never…I looked after him and all the other boys on the teams I coached and trained.”

“And that’s what we don’t like, Drover,” Elliot said leaning closer to him. “You have all those boys at your fingertips. You like them, don’t you? You like coaching them first as ten-year-olds because you gain their trust early on and when they’re at that perfect age…it’s like shooting fish in a barrel.”

Drover made a gagging sound and covered his mouth. “You…You’re sick man!” Tears began to shine in his eyes. “This is crazy! I didn’t kill anybody! I didn’t hurt anybody! I coach kids so…so maybe they have somebody else to look up to besides football players and rap stars.”

“And you like that they look up to you,” Elliot said softly. “All of them.”

Drover nodded and a single tear fell over the brim of his eye and made the quick path down the side of his face.

“You like to include everyone, too,” Elliot continued.

“It’s not just the rich kids who should get the opportunities,” Drover said, nodding again. “Everybody should have the chance to succeed. Everyone should get some kind of role model.”

“You’re a real equal opportunity kind of guy.”

“Yeah,” Drover said, not quite trusting Elliot’s tone. “I guess so.”

“So,” Elliot said, pulling another photo out of the array. “Is that why you strangled Daniel Richardson on Martin Luther King Day? Every boy has the equal opportunity to be raped by you?”

“No!” Drover screamed and pounded his hands on the table. “I didn’t…I didn’t…I couldn’t rape a kid. Anyone! I…I didn’t do it…”

“We have someone who can place you at our latest crime scene.”

“No.” Drover began to tremble. “This is crazy. I didn’t do anything. This has got to be some kind of mix up. I mean…you must have the wrong guy.”

“That’s the best excuse you can come with?” Elliot said with a laugh. “That we have the wrong guy?”

“But you do! You have the wrong guy!”

“A guy who just happened to find one of the victims and the one guy who used to take one of the victims on Saturday little outings while he was bouncing his mother on the side. The one guy who connects every single one of the four victims we’ve seen, and I bet if we do a little digging, we might find some deep connections with this last victim too.”

“No,” Drover said through a gasp of tears.

“Sure, we would. I bet you’ve had your eye on each and every one of them. And then you waited. Waited until they were the perfect age for you and then you took them.”

“No,” Drover said again, his voice cracking.

“You took them, and when they fought back, you strangled them. With your own goddamn belt.”

“LOOK!” he yelled, slamming his hands on the table. “Fingerprint me, drug test me, DNA me, put me in a line-up, whatever! I’ll take a polygraph test even. I’m telling you. I didn’t do anything!”

Silence fell upon the room, altered only by Drover’s ragged breathing as he glanced, in a panic, back and forth between Olivia and Elliot.

Olivia stood to leave the room and Elliot gathered up all the photos on the table and followed her.

“I’m not sure he’s the guy,” a voice said once they exited the interrogation room.

“Come on, Doc,” Elliot said. “You’re kidding. He’s already said he knew two of the kids and liked them.”

Dr. George Huang stood a little straighter in the small, darkened room before responding. An agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and a psychologist assigned to work with Manhattan’s Special Victims Unit, the Chinese man had seen his fair share of pedophiles, murderers and run-of-the-mill criminal masterminds. The detectives called on his expertise when cases ran outside of the general rapist and child molester operatives.

“He’s giving up this information a little too readily,” George said in a calm, soft voice. “Even if he was putting on a show, this is not the version of himself he’d want to show. He’d want to show himself as the gallant hero; the great lover of children.”

“Isn’t that what he’s doing?” Elliot said. “By bursting into tears at the sight of those photos?”

“I think that’s just a natural reaction,” George said. “Especially if he was actually close to those kids.

“Or, he’s just well-rehearsed.”

“Sorry, but he’s not setting off any alarms. Not as a murderer, anyway. He definitely needs therapy to help him cope with what he probably saw that night, but he doesn’t give off anything resembling a killer.”

“He knows we’re onto him,” Elliot said. “He’s just saying and doing anything he can think of to make us turn down the heat.”

“Let’s get him in a line-up first,” Cragen said, leaving the room. “Contact Helena Sims. If Carly Sims can make the ID, we can ‘cuff him, process him and run his prints and DNA against what we’ve got on the past victims.”

************************************************************

“Okay, Carly,” Olivia said, taking the little girl by the hand. “See this big mirror right here in front of us?”

“Yup.”

“You can’t see anything, but your reflection in it, can you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, if you can’t see anything through it, then no one who stands in this room can see anything through it either. Okay?”

Carly squeezed Olivia’s hand in reply and nodded.

Olivia walked her back to the other side of the glass where Elliot, Cragen and Carly’s mother stood against the back wall. She lifted Carly and stood her on a small crate so she could see outside the window.

“So, this is the same mirror we just saw. We can see out, but no one in there can see us.”

Carly nodded again and put her hand against the glass.

“So,” Olivia said, while Carly stared out the window. “What’s going to happen, is five men are going to walk out of that door over there, and all I need you to do is tell me if you’ve seen any of them before and where you’ve seen them.”

“That’s it?” Carly said, brown eyes gleaming up at Olivia.

“That’s it,” she said smiling. “It’s really easy and I know you’ll do fine.”

“Okay,” Carly said, returning Olivia’s smile with one of her own.

Olivia turned to the uniformed officer who stood at the doorway. “Send them in.”

One by one, dark-haired men filed into the room, stood stony-faced and each holding a number.

“Carly,” Olivia said. “Have you seen any of these men before?”

Carly stared at each of the face. “Um…I don’t know.”

“Look at each one carefully, Carly. Is there anyone you think you might’ve seen before?”

“They all look alike. I can’t tell them apart.”

“It’s okay, just try and see if there’s anyone who looks familiar to you. Anyone who looks like the person you saw dropping the box by the dumpster.”

“It was dark outside then.”

“Just try real hard, okay?”

Carly nodded.

“Do you see anyone you’ve seen before?” Olivia asked again.

“Um…I think so.”

“Okay, sweetie. Can you tell me what number he’s holding?”

Carly squinted at each of the men behind the glass again. “Number…Three? Is that right?”

“Are you sure it was Number Three?”

Carly looked nervously back at her mother and then back at the men behind the mirror. “Um…I think so. Yes…yeah, I’m pretty sure he is Number Three. Well…maybe Number…no-no…it was Number Three.”

She stared back at Olivia. “Did I do it right?”

Olivia glanced at her captain and Elliot with raised eyebrows, but smiled at Carly. “You did great, Carly.”

Carly smiled brightly, jumped off the crate and into the open arms of her mother.

Cragen sighed the moment they left and District Attorney Casey Novak entered the room a moment later.

Casey’s youthful face beheld wise, experienced blue eyes against pale skin and long, strawberry blonde hair. At close to ten o’clock at night, she was still dressed in the suit and heels that were the near uniform of district attorneys, but she showed no signs of fatigue. Disappointment registered on her face as Mrs. Sims and Carly left the room and she wished, not for the first time, that she worked simple homicides instead of cases that continuously dealt with rapists and children.

“Well,” Cragen said. “Drover already consented for us to run his DNA.”

“But, this doesn’t help any,” Casey said. “And the second his attorney learns that the ID was wrong-”

“He’s not asking for a lawyer,” Elliot said. “He’s not even in the system yet. I say we push him a little longer. We tell him that the witness picked him out and see what he has to say.”

“He hasn’t given up anything yet, though,” Olivia said. “You reduced him to tears and he still hasn’t said anything except that he didn’t do it.”

“He still thinks he’s got us beat.”

“And I’m beginning to think he’s not the guy.”

Elliot scoffed. “You’re kidding. Because the little girl couldn’t make the ID? You heard her. She said it was dark. It doesn’t mean Drover’s not the guy.”

“But combined with what Huang says about him, Elliot…” Cragen’s voice trailed off in the end.

Elliot glared back and forth between Olivia, Cragen and Casey. “He’s the guy.”

He brushed past Casey and headed back toward the interrogation room, where Drover had been brought after the line-up.

“He’s really got it in for this guy, hasn’t he?” Casey said.

Olivia shrugged. “The thing is, it’s like every time we try to take a step closer to Drover, the more it looks like he’s clean.”

“Well, let me know if he bites,” Casey said and walked out of the small room.

Cragen and Olivia stared at one another for a moment, each taking stock of the situation. Munch and Fin had returned from the Scheibley residence hours earlier with the information that Manny had indeed played soccer in the same league as three of the other four victims and his brother mentioned seeing Manny speaking to someone in a black SUV prior to his disappearance. The link between the soccer complex and Drover was well defined, but unless they had hard evidence placing him not just with the victims, but also as their killer, they would not have a case.

Elliot stepped into Drover’s interrogation room and simply stood in the corner of the room.

Drover stared at him expectantly. “Well?”

Elliot only continued to stare at him, silently weighing the options of lying to Drover to get him to confess. He had done it previously, as he and Olivia gave stunning performances in front of suspects to get them to freely confess their crimes. At times, their actions put them under fire with Casey when defense attorneys claimed that their antics pulled unwilling confessions out of suspects, but in the end, the slight twisting of the truth was always justified.

“So, you’re not going to tell me anything?” Drover asked.

“We’ve got a real problem here, Drover,” Elliot said smugly, still leaning against the wall.

“What?” Drover said, eyes wide.

“Our witness just picked you out of a line-up.”

“How? I didn’t do anything?”

“Our witness saw you dumping the body of Manny Scheibley this morning. Manny Scheibley…Does that name ring a bell?”

Drover’s breathing became ragged. “This is not happening. This is not happening!”

“Well, the name should ring a bell since he was just another kid who happened to play in the same league that you coach for. In fact, his team played against the team you train just last week.”

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this…I didn’t do anything. Maybe…well, there aren’t that many soccer leagues in the city, right?”

“Okay?” Elliot said raising an eyebrow.

“So…so maybe this guy just chose the one that I coach or something. But, I swear to God, I didn’t do anything. I wouldn’t.”

“Right, ‘cause you loved them all, didn’t you?”

“What? I…I don’t know. They were kids, and I cared about the ones I coached like anybody cares for their kids. I was the one they came to when they couldn’t go to their parents. They trust me.”

“And you used this trust so that you could molest them later.”

“No! I never did that! I never touched anyone! I never killed anyone!”

“Our witness says otherwise. Our witness says that you dropped off the box carrying Manny Scheibley’s lifeless body into that alley and then drove off…Drover.”

Drover stood and backed away from Elliot all the way to other side of the room. “This has got to be a dream or something. I can’t believe it.” He crouched down to the floor. “This is…this…this is not happening. This is not happening.”

Elliot, still against the wall, glared at Drover’s crouched and crying body for a moment more before leaving the room completely disgusted.

“Now what?” Olivia said once Elliot entered the side room.

“He’ll crack eventually,” Elliot said.

“El, you reduced to him to crying in near fetal position. He’s already cracked.”

“I still say it’s a show.”

“And I say,” Cragen interrupted, “we let him sit there until we get the results on his prints and his DNA. Unless…Doc, you want to take a crack at him?”

George sighed. “I could, but I’m not sure how far I could get with him. Especially while he’s this distressed.”

“Well, maybe we’ve been going at him the wrong way. Maybe you could get him to open up a little more. At least keep him coherent long enough to see if he had any relation to any of the other boys.” He glared at Elliot, who quickly walked out of the room and headed toward his desk.

George nodded at Cragen and walked into the interrogation room, where Drover still sat. He had stopped crying, but his breathing was still deep and haggard.

“Jeffrey,” George said. “My name is Dr. George Huang. I’d like to talk to you if that’s all right.”

Drover scoffed, but picked himself off the floor and returned to the chair at the desk.

“Are you here to tell me how I did something I know I didn’t do, Doctor?”

“I just want to talk,” George said.

“Sure, you and that other cop. You say you just want to have a little conversation, but what you really mean is that you want to accuse me of doing something I didn’t do.”

“I’m actually not a detective, I’m a-”

“A doctor,” Drover interrupted. “Yeah, I got it. A psychiatrist, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re here to get in my head and figure out why I did what you say I did. Well, you might as well leave too, because like I told that cop who was just in here: I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You keep saying that, but are you sure you understand what you’re saying you didn’t do?”

“You people think I killed kids I know!”

“I thought you didn’t know all of them?”

Drover sighed. “I don’t. I didn’t. But, I still didn’t do anything to ones I did know. I was just trying to be a role model to kids like Ricky. It’s like anytime a guy tries to do the right thing, you all jump to some stupid conclusions. I know you all deal with the worst scum of society everyday and that’s why you’ve all come to expect the worst from people. But, I’m telling you, I never hurt anyone. I’m not capable of hurting someone, especially some kids I used to coach.”

“Are you aware that you deny hurting anyone?”

“That’s because I haven’t.”

“Have you done anything that maybe didn’t specifically hurt anyone, but might be construed differently by someone outside of the situation?”

Drover shook his head. “Look. I’m going to tell you again. You and anyone else who might be hiding behind that mirror! I’ll tell you all night if I have to. I did not hurt those kids. I never touched them and I never even looked at them funny! That…that detective showed me pictures of boys…dead little kids and he said that I did it. There’s just no way. And, I don’t know where you found this eyewitness who picked me out of the line-up, but they could’ve seen me anywhere. Especially if this guy’s picking out kids from my league. I didn’t do anything. I swear. I swear on my father’s life. I didn’t do anything to anybody.”

George sat silent, studying Drover’s reactions and Drover continued. “I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything. This…this is just some kind of mix up. Some kind of bad dream. And, I think…yeah, I think it’s time to leave now.”

Drover stood and George stood with him.

“Well, you’re not under arrest, but I’d like to advise you against leaving just now.”

“What, are you a lawyer now, too?”

“No, but there is substantial evidence building against you, and your leaving just now won’t look very good.”

“Well, you know what?” Drover said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t care how it looks. I’ve been here for hours now, while that cop comes in here, showing me pictures and saying that I did something I know I didn’t do. I’ve been more than cooperative. I’ve stood in your stupid line-up to clear my name and everything and now, I’m tired. I’ve got work in the morning and I have to at least try to get some sleep before I have to face the day.”

Drover stepped passed George and toward door, but Olivia headed him off as he exited the room.

“You said you were willing to take a DNA test to rule you out as a suspect. Are you really leaving now?”

Drover laughed at her. “Your guy just said that somebody ID’d me. Why should I believe that you’ll stop coming after me if I give you DNA?”

“Well,” Olivia said softly. “DNA evidence is far more reliable than an eyewitness. If you’re not a match to the DNA we already have on file, then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

He rolled his eyes at her and shook his head. “I didn’t do anything and that other detective said somebody saw me. Somebody pointed me out. What’s to stop one of your people from doctoring up my DNA, so it looks like I’m your guy?”

Olivia stood silent for a moment, beginning to pity the man before her. His dark hair was standing on end in places from his hands nervously running through it and the whites of his grey eyes were pink from his previous tears. She stared up at him, weighing the pros and cons of what she was about to say and just how big of a fallout the consequence would have.

“Look…Jeff,” she said, taking a step toward him. “I want to believe you. I want to believe that you’re telling the truth when you say you didn’t do anything. And the thing is…you might have misunderstood what Detective Stabler said about the eyewitness.”

“Meaning what?” Drover said. “You mean he lied? Oh, that’s just great. No one picked me out?”

“Either way,” Olivia continued, “the best thing you can do for yourself is letting us take your DNA. If you’re telling the truth, you won’t match anything and you won’t have anything to worry about.”

Drover stared at her for a full minute before sighing and nodding his head.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Where do I have to go? What do I have to do?”

************************************************************

The hour was closing in on two in the morning and Olivia yawned as she typed at her computer. She glanced across her desk at Elliot, whose brown stubble that had appeared on his face gave him the additional look of general ruggedness and fatigue that his eyes could not portray. He had been going through several files of their other open cases and the fact that they had been waiting for Melinda’s results on Drover for close to four hours gave him the appearance of increased frustration.

Cragen had instructed the both of them to go home, as they could get Drover’s results in the morning, and even though they had both agreed to do so, both remained well into the midnight hours.

“Elliot, go home,” Olivia said as she continued to write her own documentation on what had occurred with Drover that night.

“You go home,” he said, playfully. “You’ve been here longer than me.”

She smiled. “Touché. But, you’re the one who actually told the Cap that you were heading out the door.”

“You said so too.”

“No, I just nodded.”

“Nodded that you were out the door, too.”

“I just nodded. That nod could’ve been about anything. It was a while ago. It could’ve been about something on my screen or maybe some voice in my head. I can’t remember.”

He laughed, but then sighed and tossed the stack of papers in his hand on his desk.

“She’s rushing it,” Olivia said returning to her own notes.

“We shouldn’t’ve let him go,” Elliot said running his hands over his head.

“We had nothing on him,” she said. “We couldn’t keep him.”

“We had enough to bring him in.”

“But, not enough to arrest him, so we had to let him go.”

“I know, I know, but if we find another kid, when we had him right here…”

“Well, he wouldn’t pull anything tonight knowing that we’re looking at him. And, if Warner calls telling us he’s a match, I’ll be right behind you on our way to cuffing his ass.”

Elliot smirked and nodded and he allowed his eyes to close halfway for a moment as he sighed again. Olivia caught another glance at her partner and could not help but notice how his long eyelashes highlighted his clear, blue eyes. Her eyes followed the lines of his jawbone and down his neck to his chest, where pectoral muscles could just be distinguished before she caught herself. She felt a girlish flutter in her stomach and immediately returned her attention on her notes, forgetting momentarily what she had wanted to write.

She mentally scolded herself for allowing that to happen as she had managed to keep those thoughts at bay for