1. The Chosen One

Central Park
New York, New York
Thursday, August 13, 2009 – 11:15 a.m.
Fate.

Fate brought him here. Fate made him what he is.

Down a long over-grown path there's a small clearing in the middle of the woods – if you can call the large gathering of trees in Central Park woods. It's secluded and quiet. The exact reasons he chose this spot for his "secret" hideout.

Today, he set out to finish his work on his newest project. As it turns out, it is the day his new plan would come to fruition. There had been others, but this one…this one was the chosen one.

Robbie Baker.

Earlier, opportunity knocked when he saw the boy aimlessly wandering in the park…alone. It was as if Erebus, Darkness himself, swooped in and engulfed everything in black except the small child. After telling Robbie of a super secret clubhouse, he was able to lure the little six-year-old away. Moments later they arrived at the small fortress built in a large red oak tree.

Watching as the boy climbs up the eleven thick rungs of the makeshift ladder, a sinister smile cuts across the stranger's face. Once Robbie reaches the landing at the top of the ladder, he stares at the simply painted sign in awe. The little boy runs his fingers over the uneven red paint strokes that form the coveted words.

"No Girls Allowed."

SVU Squad Room
Manhattan, New York
1:38 p.m.

"I need to speak to someone!" A short brunette woman screams as she hysterically runs into the station. "Help! Someone help!" She pivots in a tight circle as her eyes search frantically for someone who will pay attention.

"Can I help you with something, ma'am?" A strong but gentle voice asks from a few feet away.

Detective Elliot Stabler stands up from his desk and walks purposefully over to the frenzied woman. He places his hand on her shoulder to bring her back from wherever she is in her panicked mind.

"Yes. Please. My little boy," she says breathlessly shoving a weathered picture of a blonde haired boy with sparkling eyes and brilliant smile into the detective's hand. "My little boy is missing."

"How long has it been since you last saw him?" Elliot asks and guides the panic-stricken woman to the chair beside his desk.

"Two…two hours." She looks up at him as her green eyes spurt tears. "We…we were in the park. And he went off with a friend. They were going to the playground. I was only a few paces behind them. I…I heard a noise and turned my head for just a second. When I turned back around he…he was gone!"

"Have you contacted Missing Persons, Mrs. -"

"Baker. Virginia Baker. I haven't…I came right here. I heard on the news," she says quickly and erratically as the tears continue to gush from her eyes, "I heard on the news that there's…there's a pedophile on the loose. That he's attacking in Central Park. That he's attacking young boys like my Robbie!" She buries her head in her hands and cries. "I don't want Robbie to be…I…"

"Okay, Mrs. Baker, let me get a description of Robbie and his last known whereabouts and we'll start a search immediately."

"Okay," she responds and visibly begins to calm.

"First I have to ask you some questions, okay?" Elliot asks soothingly. Once Virginia nods her head he continues. "Did you see anyone else in the area? Or did you see anything suspicious?"

"No, no one was around. There was nothing out of the ordinary."

Elliot makes a note in his notebook then looks up to the woman again. "Did you see what had caused the noise that stole your attention?"

"When I turned my head I didn't see anything so I just figured it was an animal moving in the bushes."

"Okay, you said Robbie's friend was there?"

"Yes, Owen. Owen Jameson."

"Where is Owen now?"

"I called his mother. She came to get him and helped me search the area for Robbie. There…there was no sign of him. It's like he vanished into thin air."

"Okay," Elliot says and looks sympathetically at her. "We're going to need to speak to Owen to see if he saw or heard anything."

She nods her head emphatically. "Here is his information," Virginia says and hands Elliot an index card with an address and phone number.

"Alright, Mrs. Baker, now tell me what Robbie was wearing and where you last saw him."

Virginia takes a large gulp of air and looks at the detective with the kind blue eyes. She describes Robbie's clothing – his favorite blue and red striped t-shirt with the baseball patch, his faded blue jean shorts, his little Nike sneakers with the silver swoosh and the light yellow spring jacket – the jacket that had caused a temper tantrum earlier in the day. Because, according to the six-year-old's logic it was clearly too hot for a jacket. Virginia continues to describe Robbie's light blonde hair, his brown eyes, his slightly underdeveloped height and even the irregular scar on his right thigh – a result from the Evil Knieval-like bike stunt performed last summer.

"Is this the most recent picture you have of your son, Mrs. Baker?" Elliot asks holding up the worn photograph that was shoved in his hand earlier.

"Yes," she says nodding her head. "It was taken a few months ago at the beach."

Elliot nods kindly then turns in his seat.

"Officer Garcia," he says motioning a young officer over to him. "Take this and put an Amber Alert out on Robbie Baker, age six, immediately."

Elliot rips the page of notes out of his notebook and hands it along with the picture to the officer.

"Yes sir," Officer Garcia says before she walks swiftly away.

Elliot watches her leave then turns back to the woman sitting beside his desk. "Mrs. Baker, can I get you something to drink? Water? Coffee? Tea?"

"No. No thank you. I just want my son back," she says scared.

"We'll do our best, ma'am. If you'll excuse me, I would like to talk to my captain about your son."

Virginia nods then clasps her hands together. She bows her head and begins to pray.

Captain Cragen's Office
Manhattan, New York
2:16 p.m.

"Cap," Elliot says while knocking on the door. "Gotta sec?"

Captain Cragen motions with his hand for Elliot to come in as he speaks into the telephone. A few seconds later he hangs up the receiver and turns to address his detective.

"Detective, what can I do for you?" Cragen asks and looks up at Elliot.

"Missing kid."

"Central Park?" Cragen asks with a grave look on his face.

Elliot nods his head.

"How long?"

"A little more than two hours."

Cragen sighs sadly and rubs his jaw with his hand. "Take Fin and canvas the area with some uniforms."

"There's a friend. He was with the boy right before he disappeared."

"Have an address?"

"Right here, sir," Elliot says and hands Cragen the index card.

Cragen takes the card and carefully considers it. "Okay. I'll have Munch talk to him." The over-worked captain takes a deep breath then returns his gaze to his detective. "Call me with updates," he states and hands the card back. With nothing left to say, he bends his head to the open file on his desk.

Elliot doesn't move from his spot. He sways slightly from foot to foot. As he narrows his eyes and clenches his jaw he tries to make the words form on his lips. After sucking his lips into his mouth a few times he takes a large breath.

"Sir?"

Cragen's eyes lift to his detective.

"Liv…Liv is going to want to be a part of this. It's…it's her case," Elliot says looking at his captain with a look of worry and concern.

"Don't worry about Benson, Stabler."

"But sir," Elliot starts to argue.

"You have your orders, detective," Cragen says with an air of finality.

Elliot nods his head in acceptance but both men know that he is far from it.

Central Park
New York, New York
11:48 a.m.

The little boy smells like grape bubble gum, freshly mowed grass and the slightest sweet scent of perspiration the shadowy figure thinks to himself. Standing in the corner, he stares with unflinching eyes and tracks the young boy's movements.

Robbie Baker walks around the clubhouse in awe of all the collected trinkets. He picks up the rocks that look like arrowheads, the small figurines of dark ominous figures, the carved pieces of wood in the shape of daggers. He smiles as he runs his fingers over the treasures before carefully setting them down in their designated place.

The stranger leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest as he licks his lips.

"Did you build this all by yourself?" Robbie asks turning his head slightly.

"I did," comes the response through a sickly sneer.

"This is cool. I wish I had one."

"Well you know I am building another. Would you like to help?"

The little boy widens his brown eyes and a smile emerges on his face.

"Come on, let's go now," the shadowy figure continues.

"I hafta tell my mom."

"Don't worry about your mom. I'll tell her."

The little boy furrows his brow and looks at the stranger. Something should have clicked in his head. Something should have warned him of the imminent danger. Something should have told him that he was supposed to tell his mom before wandering into the woods alone. But he barely sees or thinks any of this. He is too excited about building a new tree house to worry about all the signs his mom had warned him about.

"I'll get in trouble," Robbie says with a slight hesitation as the logic in his six-year-old mind prevails.

The stranger looks at the little boy for a brief moment. He can tell Robbie desperately wants to help. The conflict is etched across his small face. Robbie is desperate to belong to a secret club but is equally concerned about the punishment his mother could bestow upon him.

"You won't. Don't you trust me?" The stranger asks in a menacing singsong voice.

Robbie creases his forehead and ignores the heavy beating in his young chest. He nods slowly and follows the tall individual out of the tree house and down the ladder.

SVU Squad Room
Manhattan, New York

2:28 p.m.

"Munch, got something for you," Elliot says as he exits then closes the door to Cragen's office. "We've got a missing kid, Robbie Baker. Went missing about two and a half hours ago in Central Park. Owen Jameson, age seven, was with our victim right before he disappeared. Cragen wants you to speak with him."

Elliot flips the index card in his fingers then extends his hand to Munch. Munch takes the card and reads over the few lines of text then returns his eyes to Elliot.

Elliot pauses and lowers his voice. "The mother," he says motioning to Mrs. Baker.

Munch nods his head.

"Fin and I are going to canvas the park with a few unis to see what we can find." Elliot looks to the older man and watches as a perplexed look forms on his face.

"What about Liv?" The willowy sergeant asks.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Elliot only gives Munch a sad look full of unanswered questions. Munch nods his head understandingly. Elliot knows nothing beyond the rest of them about their coworker's mysterious absence for the past two days. They each give the other another sympathetic look then walk in opposite directions.

"Mrs. Baker, I'm Sergeant Munch," he says approaching the still praying woman. "Would you like a ride home, ma'am?"

"Yes. Yes please. That would be very nice," she responds. "Thank you for your help, detective," she says turning her head to the approaching man.

"We'll do our best to find him, Mrs. Baker," Elliot says offering her a look of hope.

Virginia nods and starts to stand shakily. Munch quickly reaches for her arm and grasps it to keep her from toppling back into the chair. She looks up into his eyes and tries to give him a small smile of appreciation. He nods his head then they walk to the elevator.

Elliot wipes his hands down his tense face then stretches it by opening his eyes and mouth widely. Once it is sufficiently pliable again, he turns around to look for Fin.

"Where's everybody?" Fin's voice questions from behind him.

"Case," Elliot responds. "We've got another missing kid in Central Park. Cap wants you and me to go canvas the area where he was last seen with some unis. Munch is talking to the kid's friend who was with him right before he disappeared."

Fin takes a breath then turns on his heel. Elliot slowly follows him to the elevator.

Benson Residence

Manhattan, New York

8:45 p.m.

Three short but firm raps on the door alert her to the fact that her hopefully solitary evening would not remain so. The interruption irritates her even if she has been waiting for it for six hours.

She had heard the news broadcast earlier in the day. Robbie Baker, age six – missing. Last seen in Central Park. Her heart sank when she heard the overly pronounced desk jockey's voice say the words she longed to never hear again.

'Suspected kidnapping of the Central Park Rapist.'

His picture flashed up on the screen and her heart knotted itself when she saw the smiling young boy in his bright red bathing suit. His shining brown eyes haunted her, even through the pixilated television screen.

Sitting up on the couch, she tightly grasped her cell phone waiting for the call. But one never came. Hours later she had finally given up and placed the worthless plastic lump on her end table. It stayed there – forgotten – until two hours ago when the call she had been expecting earlier in the day disrupted her self-imposed confinement.

She ignored it. No longer wanting to hear the gory details.

It still sits blinking on the table, notifying her of the five missed calls and countless text messages. Her heart is too mangled to pick it up and listen to the messages or read the lines of text that surely contain sad facts or words of concern. She doesn't want his pity.

Knock, knock, knock.

There's a long pause and she thinks he may have given up and left.

SLAP.

An open hand violently hits her door. She jumps.

"Olivia!"

Her heart knots itself again with the sound of his desperate voice.

"Olivia, I know you're in there just open the door."

She makes no move to get up and she knows that he is expecting this act of avoidance. If he wants her, he has to come and get her.

"I'm gonna use my key, Liv. So if you're not decent you better say something now."

He waits. Slowly, he counts to ten. It's their silent sign of obligatory boundaries. Always wait ten seconds.

"Okay, I'm coming in."

He inserts the jagged piece of metal into its place in the doorknob and twists slowly. The door creaks as he pushes it open.

As he steps into the apartment he is immediately slapped in the face with stale, warm air. Olivia's apartment is always overly warm but this is a new level of discomfort. Almost like she's trying to sweat out the pain.

"Geez, Liv."

He moves to turn on the light to his left. Before he flips the switch he looks to her as if asking permission. She looks away and wraps the blanket tighter around herself. As the light illuminates the room he can almost see the haze of anguish forming in the humid air.

"How long you been sitting like this?" He asks concerned and walks up to her couch.

She looks down at her hands and shrugs her shoulders.

"Have you eaten anything?"

Elliot looks around the apartment for signs of food or dirty dishes or wrappers. Nothing. Then his eyes fall on the bottle. It sits on the coffee table, bathed in the fuzzy heat-saturated light.

"Have you been drinking?" He receives no response or indication that she's heard him. The slow count to ten resumes.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

"Liv," he says forcefully.

Her eyes lift to his. "No," she says hoarsely. Her voice is full of emotion, even in just one syllable he can tell she's heard about Robbie.

"Then what's this?" He asks picking up the bottle of gin. "Olivia," he says firmly, forcing her to look at him again.

"It's…it's nothing."

"Nothing," he says lowly.

"Yeah, nothing."

"Olivia," he chastises.

"It's a reminder," she says quickly.

"A reminder?"

"Yeah," she replies distantly.

He waits patiently for her to explain.

"It…this," she says taking the bottle from him and stares at it. "This was my mother's." Her body jerks in a sad sort of laugh.

"Liv, why did you keep this?" He asks bewildered at why she would hold on to a bottle of liquor for eight years.

"A reminder," she states again. "It's a reminder that…that it's never as bad as you think. So I keep it in the back of my cabinet to remember that I'm not her. To remember that I'm strong enough not run away from my problems, that I can get through tough times without a crutch."

"So you're sitting here, in the dark staring at a half full bottle of gin to remind yourself to not run away?" He has half a mind to laugh at the irony.

"Half empty," she says flatly.

"What?"

"It's not half full, it's half empty."

His heart hangs heavily in his chest hearing her defeated voice. "What's the difference? How does it help to look at it as half empty?"

"Because…because it will never be full again. It's half empty." She shrugs, looks off to the side and away from the bottle.

"Liv -"

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't call you two days ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I was -"

"Running away?" He asks with a smirk.

She sighs roughly then runs her hand down her face.

"You keep this around," he says taking the bottle back from her, "you keep this to remind yourself not to run away from your problems like she did, but that is exactly what you're doing, Olivia."

She bends her head down to stare at her hands again.

"You think it's stupid that I've kept it around."

"I guess I just don't get why you would," he says confused at her logic.

"Why?"

"Because her drinking is a painful memory. Why would you want to keep that around?"

"What else was I supposed to do?" She asks looking up at him. "What else do I have to remember her?"

Elliot sighs sadly and rubs his forehead. "Olivia, you're stronger than this. You're better than this. Don't do this. Don't second guess yourself."

"Second guess myself?!" She snaps jumping to her feet.

The blanket falls away to expose her barely clad body. Elliot jerks in his seat, wanting not to stare, wanting to grab the blanket and cover her. She already seems too fragile…too vulnerable.

"There's three boys out there with enough emotional scarring from this asshole to never function normally again! One of them is in the hospital and may never wake up. And now another boy is missing! How can I not second guess myself, Elliot?"

Elliot stands up and gently places his hands on her shoulders. "Liv, none of that is your fault."

"But I should be able to find this guy and stop him. We have no clues as to who he is. We know nothing. And while we're sitting at our desks spinning our wheels, he's out there luring away more boys. How long until he kills one of them?"

She runs her hands through her hair and spins around.

"Liv. Come back. You can do this; you can find this guy. Those little boys need you. We need you. I need you. I need to know you're going to be there."

"What happened?" She asks sensing that tonight he needs her as much as she needs him.

"We searched the area where he was last seen."

"What did you find?"

"Not much."

"Anything?"

"Some footprints. No sign that he was forced."

Olivia takes in a large breath and shakes her head. "Same as every time before. Trail go cold before you found anything else?" She asks with dull eyes.

"Yup. Not even a piece of lint. But the scene was compromised. The mother, the kid's friend and the friend's mother all searched the area for an hour or so before coming to us. So if there was any evidence it may have been disturbed or ruined by them."

"Damn," she utters quietly. She bites her lip and shakes her head again.

"You going to come back?"

She hesitates slightly and weighs her options. "Yeah," she says after she rubs her mouth with her hand.

"Can you promise me something?"

She looks at him but doesn't say a word. Her eyes lift and fall as if nodding at him.

"Can you promise me that one day we can pour this out?" He says picking up the bottle of gin again. "Please?" He pleads as she starts to resist.

She nods and inhales.

"Okay." He nods his head as he spins the bottle in his hands. "Okay," he states again.

"Do you need to talk about it?" She asks sensing his resistance to leave.

"I just…this kid. He..."

"Reminds you of Eli," she finishes for him.

Elliot's eyes shoot up to hers. "Yeah," he says. "How -"

"I saw his picture on the news. Could be Eli in a few years."

"It's scary to think about."

"Yeah."

A few moments pass. Neither make a motion to move or speak.

"Well I should get out of your hair," he says standing.

"You," she says almost too quickly. "You don't have to go."

They look at one another, each sensing the desperation in the other to not be alone. He nods his head and sits back down. Not another word is spoken but each feel the comfort wash over them as the minutes tick by.

*~~~~~*