The guy had been eyeing the girl for a few minutes when Billy approached him.
"That's one nice piece of ass, isn't it?" Billy smirked.
"Damn straight. You know her?"
"Want an introduction?" The guy nodded. "Hey, Sue. Come here."
The girl, a skinny little thing, almost anorexic looking, in jeans that hung low on the hips and a cropped sweater with the first several buttons undone, came over. The cheap dye job had grown out a bit and there were a few centimeters of dark roots exposed in her tangled hair. She looked a little jittery, but she had obviously done this before.
"Sue, this guy wants to meet you. Why don't you say hi?" He draped on arm around her shoulders possessively and fingered the fabric at the top of her sweater, letting his fingers graze the tops of her breasts. She gave the stranger an empty smile and said hey.
"Hey yourself. It's very nice to meet you, Susie." His eyes moved over her body. "Very nice."
"Sue, go back over there while we talk some business." He slapped her backside as she turned.
"What does she do?"
"Whatever I tell her."
"What do you tell her to do?"
"Whatever you want."
The guy smiled. "How much for the rest of the evening?"
"I don't know, it's only midnight. Let's say 250."
"No way, man. 100."
"200."
"150."
He considered. It had been a slow evening and they were going to leave soon, anyway. "Fine. Cash upfront."
"Sure thing." He handed him the money. "And she'll do everything?"
"Anything you want. Just make sure she comes back in one piece. Sue!"
He led her away by the arm. As they turned the corner, he released her and touched her hair. Despite being unkempt, it was surprisingly soft. He picked a piece of it and smelled it. "Nice hair," he remarked. Then, without warning, he grabbed her by her hair and shoved her into an alley.
She stumbled, then turned to face him, backing up into the wall. She bit her lip seductively, thinking he wanted to play some sort of game. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Shut up." He backhanded her across the face.
"Hey," she protested indignantly.
He hit her again. "I didn't pay to hear you talk." He backed up a little.
"I'm outta here." She spoke shakily and moved to leave, but he had pulled a bat out from behind a pile of rubbish. She shrank back.
"I don't think so, you stupid cunt. You're going do what I tell you to do." He grabbed her hair with his left hand and, still holding the bat in his right, dragged her towards a door at the end of the alley. He knocked on the door with the bat.
Friday, February 23, 8 years later
Cragen stepped out of his office, his expression even more dolorous than usual. "Olivia, Elliot. I need to talk to you."
The detectives exchanged curious looks and obeyed their captain.
"Close the door," he said without turning. "There's a video in the VCR. It came from the Lacey scene. Turner asked me to investigate discreetly. He wants to sit on it till he knows there's something to it."
"Why would Turner want to sit on evidence in an attack on one of his own officers?" Olivia asked.
"Press play."
Another young man opened the door, an alcohol-laced grin on his face. "Is this it?"
"Yep." He dragged her inside, then pushed her through another door into a large room where four guys were standing around drinking beer and whiskey. There were a few chairs and two tables, the larger one bare. Music was blaring from a stereo in the corner. "Hey, guys, meet our entertainment for the evening." He shoved her at the guy who had opened the door, who held her arms behind her. He smelled her deeply before licking her neck.
"Mmm. Tastes good." There was laughter at that.
Her voice squeaked when she spoke. "I don't do this shit."
The first guy gripped his bat and swung at her stomach. "No one," he swung again, a little further up, "said" he swung again at her stomach, "you could talk." He slammed the bat into her stomach again. She gasped for breath and slumped over, only held up by the door guy.
Bat guy held up the bat. "Anyone else want a try at our piñata?"
Three of the others took him up on his offer, concentrating their force on her upper body. When the last one was finished, door guy released her. She fell into a ball, gasping for breath. There was a stabbing pain in her chest that told her she had broken ribs. She got on her hands and knees, thinking that might be more comfortable - - it was. She glanced up to see one of the guys, the one who hadn't beat her, holding a camcorder. How long had he had that on?
"Oh, look, the bitch is on all fours." Bat guy leered. He kicked her in the chest and she collapsed again.
"You know," the door guy said, "there's only one way to really break open this package." Two of them started to drag her up. She caught a glimpse of a knife in the hand of door guy and began to scream. A punch in the mouth shut her up and the two guys dragged her to the table. They bent her over it so her breasts and broken ribs were pushed painfully onto the hard surface of the table. She managed to turn her head to the side so she could breathe, barely. One of them held her arms down as the door guy grazed the knife tip down from her neck to her waste. Then she felt it at her neck again, pressing more firmly into the flesh. She let out a sob as the knife was swept down, slicing through the cheap material of her sweater. She felt the knife tear down the seat of her jeans. The men exclaimed over her lack of underwear. And then . . . she yelped once more. Then she was quiet except for a few ragged sobs.