"Three bodies, all female. They're evenly spaced and posed. Looks like he struck again," Dr. Warner whispered to Fin and Munch. Fin nodded, walking past Warner to view the scene. Munch went to follow, but Warner stopped him. "I don't know if he found her or not, but there's a witness. She's with officers now. She's not saying a word."
"I'll talk to her," Munch whispered, brushing past Elliot and Olivia as he approached the officers.
"Ma'am, are you hurt?" the taller of the officers asked, impatient.
"You can't make them sing by giving up on them," Munch smirked, pushing the two officers apart so that he could see the woman. "Miss, I'm Detective John Munch from the Special Victims Unit. Can you tell me what happened?" he asked kindly. He received no response.
"If you think you can get her talkin', go for it. I don't get paid enough for this," the shorter of the officers spat, walking away. Munch turned to look at them.
"I guess that's why you only work with the dead, huh? Looks like you and I both will be going to bed alone tonight. At least I'll be going by choice," Munch spat. The man scoffed as Munch turned back around to the woman. He put on his gloves and began to comb through the woman's hair for fibers. She pulled away. "Nice to know you're alive. I need to collect these fibers as evidence. Let me know if I'm hurting you."
The woman relaxed and let Munch continue. Elliot walked up beside them during this.
"I thought she wasn't talking," he whispered.
"She's not," Munch replied. "But the captain would have my ass if we didn't give her a once over before sending her to the lockup."
The young woman flinched, making stern eye contact with Munch. He smirked softly.
"You saw a crime, Miss. We're not saying you did it, but we won't know until you talk," Munch said quietly. She didn't say a word, but she shifted to let him continue combing the fibers from her hair. "Elliot, ask Cragen if we can hold her after they check her out at the hospital. I think we can make her talk."
"I'll get Huang in too."
"No, not yet," he whispered. Elliot nodded, moving away to make the call.
"We'll need your clothes once we get to the hospital. There's blood on your sleeve," Munch said to the woman. She glanced at the blood then looked to Munch. She lifted her head to a strange angle. Munch noticed the dried blood inside her nostrils. "You had a nose bleed?" he asked. She moved her head back down. "Did the perp hit you?" he asked. She didn't respond.
Munch sighed, closing the bag. He handed it off to a technician, then motioned to Fin, who was nearby. Fin returned the gesture, and the two met halfway.
"Same MO, and same lack of evidence. Those fibers from Miss Silence over there are about all we have, and I bet those will go nowhere."
"This guy's getting worse. I don't know what he did to that girl, but she's lucky to be silent by choice rather than chance."
"You takin' her to Mercy?"
"Yeah. You mind riding back with someone else?"
"You mean you're driving for once?" Fin asked. Munch smirked.
"You underestimate my abilities, O young one. I'll follow the ambulance to Mercy and stay with her. Elliot, did Cragen accept my offer?"
"Of course. As far as we know she's a suspect," he replied.
"Yeah, and so is everyone else on this block. We'll be canvasing while you're working at her zipper. I'll keep you out of the loop so you can work your magic uninterrupted," Fin whispered, tapping his shoulder kindly and joining Elliot in the hallway.
Munch turned around to see the woman being led by two paramedics. She looked scared, so Munch went to her.
"I'm going to follow you to the hospital in my car. You'll be fine with them," he whispered. She didn't respond, but she looked less scared.
Munch followed them downstairs and watched from the driver's seat as she climbed into the ambulance. At least she was alive, he thought. At least she was alive.
Ten bodies, three neighborhoods, and numerous families had been affected by the Three Evils serial killer. Each victim was staged to look like one of the three monkeys from the Three Evils: see no evil, say no evil, hear no evil. Each victim was raped in the location corresponding with the positioning: see/vaginally, hear/anally, and say/orally.
The tenth victim, a male, was the only one not killed to the pattern. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and after forcing him to masturbate to the three victims, he was executed and dismembered. The pieces were arranged artistically to form the face of a monkey. The extra pieces were disposed of, and they still hadn't been found.
The eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth victims were the next three to be added to the profile. Found two blocks from scene one and five from scene two, it sat near the border between two neighborhoods, and just one block from the subway station that served that area.
There were no suspects. One the third day, detectives and special agents loaned to them by the state of New York tracked two men that were thought to be responsible. The men were guilty, but of possession and distribution charges rather than murder.
With nothing to go on, the Silent Victim was their only hope at catching the perp or perps, and they were going to try their hardest to get her to talk.
"Interrogation room one is yours," Cragen said sternly. Once the woman was seated, he called John to the hallway. "I didn't appreciate you saying no to Huang. He's here with some pointers, and you'll listen to them or you're off the case."
"Fine. Yes, Doctor?" Munch whispered, looking to Dr. Huang.
"Be gentle and sincere. Ask general questions. Talk to her about trivial things. Bond with her. Creating this connection could allow her to open up and talk about the incident, but don't force her into it. Just let her talk if she speaks. You'll know how to respond to her."
"Why isn't she talking, Doc? Trauma?" Cragen asked.
"Judging by what the doctors at Mercy said, her silence is by choice. She either doesn't want to incriminate someone or she just doesn't want to talk about it. If she was traumatized, she'd likely be hiding or emotional. She's just sitting there. Judging by the shape of her eyes and brow, she's nervous too. She might feel you have it out for her. Remember to bring up her confidence, and never blame her for anything."
"Do you think she could've done it?" Munch whispered.
"You've seen those crime scenes personally, John. Unless she's hiding something under those clothes, which we would already know about thanks to her examinations, then she's not our guy. Does she know him? I don't know. I'm going to be watching, and if you're struggling, I want you wired so that I can talk to you."
"I like that idea. We can't screw this up, so use all of the expertise you can, John," Cragen said sternly. Munch nodded, walking into the interrogation room.
After sitting down in the second chair and making himself comfortable, John sighed quietly.
"It's hard to do my job now days. All the evil and hurt out there just...it sickens me. I'm not getting any younger, and to know the people who hurt my charges could be taking care of me makes me...so many things. I'm angry that no one could raise these kids better, but I'm sad they fell through the cracks too. Kids are important, and letting them fall to the bottom isn't how to show it," Munch whispered, glancing up to the young woman. "Have you ever been that kid who fell through the cracks?"
She didn't respond. She merely kept looking forward, eying her reflection. Munch shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.
"I hate working with kids here. It's not that I don't like kids, but it means I have to look at the statistics again...or make new ones. Too many kids, too many numbers, and too many cracks disguising canyons to let me sleep at night. My ex-wives thought I couldn't sleep because they snored too much, but it's because of kids and the young," Munch said sternly, shifting in his seat again to look at her. "So many victims look like you, except you have less bruises. You're lucky, even if you won't say anything."
Munch stood and began walking around the room. She didn't respond.
"I've seen women who survived their attacks only to never sleep again, at least without waking up screaming. These women who once read romance books like they were manuals never allow another man to touch them ever again, even if they have the body of model and the hair of the Fabio guy. Those woman once watched those romance movies like they were docudramas, and they planned their weddings to match. Now they'll never have a wedding because they never let another man near enough to propose.
"I've seen young women lose their dream careers because they were raped on their college campus. Young minds shouldn't be corrupted like that, and in such a violent way. Those women will never see their dreams come true because of one man, or two men, or however many there were.
"If I were a woman whose ancestors faced persecution just to think without scrutiny, who watched their dreams fade on what seemed like a perfect day, who gave up their perfect dream family because of their new found hatred of men...I'd get mad. I'd want to give someone a piece of my mind in court, or I'd want to tell someone what happened to me," John whispered, sitting down beside the woman. "And if I watched someone's hopes and dreams die with them, I'd want someone to know about it, wouldn't you?"
She didn't respond, but she had changed position. She was staring at the table, following something with her eyes. Munch looked up and saw a moth dancing around the moth above them. He smirked, seeing another avenue to try.
"I had a friend in Baltimore who had a collection of moths and butterflies. He used to set up nectar in large boxes to lure them in. He'd watch for hours for the perfect one to arrive, then he'd close the door. He'd care for them until they died, then he'd pin them into his connection. He probably had a hundred specimens before I left. I wonder if he still does it," John smiled.
She didn't respond, yet her eyes continued to dart, following the moth in its reflection. Munch sighed and left the room, feeling lost.
"You're doing well," Dr. Huang smiled, watching John as he collapsed into a chair in the observing area.
"She's not breaking. I don't know what else to do."
"Just keep talking. It might take a long time, but she'll come out eventually. Do you want the wire? I had some good ideas for that last bit, but I couldn't speak to you."
"Not yet," Munch whispered.
The door opened and Olivia walked inside. She sat in the last open chair and sighed.
"We just can't catch a break. There was a witness, but it's a deaf kid with Down Syndrome. Elliot tried talking to him with an interpreter, but this kid couldn't tell us anything about the perp. And so far there's no forensics, and the bodies are just like all the rest."
"Did you find where she had her nose bleed?" John asked. Olivia nodded quietly.
"Right in the closet she was found. She used a rag inside the space to stop the bleeding, and it's consistent so far. Warner's testing the blood, when she's done with our bodies and another unrelated homicide," Olivia sighed. "Has she said anything?"
"She sometimes reacts physically, but nothing yet," Munch said quietly. "I'm going back in now, so we'll see how it goes."
Olivia said nothing as John reentered the room and sat down. He began watching the moth as well trying to figure out how to get her to talk.