A/N: Chapter 3, sorry about the delay but my grandma just took in a load more guests and they've taken up a lot of time...

CHAPTER 3

'Please, Elliot, I love you, please, you have to...'

'Olivia...' Elliot was still curled up on the forecourt of the convenience store. More people had gathered and were milling around gossiping and watching the free show. It wasn't every day a crazy guy covered in blood turned up in town.

'Sir, what happened?' The owner of the store, the man who had found him, was sitting beside Elliot on the concrete surfacing. 'My wife's called 911. Tell me what happened, and I can try to help you.'

'I didn't want to but I had to, I had to...' Elliot was curled up tightly into a ball, staring straight ahead.

'Had to do what, Sir?'

'I had to, it was for her, I loved her...'

'Who, Sir? Where is she now?'

'He said we had an interesting dynamic... he said we were fascinating...'

'Who said?'

'He did...'

'Does this man have 'her', Sir?'

'No. No, he doesn't.' Elliot smiled faintly. 'I saved her.'

'That's... very good, Sir.' The man stood up and went over to his son-in-law, lowering his voice. 'The sheriff say how long he'd be?'

'He's been held up. Some woman on the Glenshane Road outside of town.'

Elliot closed his eyes. 'Olivia...'

'Call again,' the man told his son-in-law. 'Tell them we need the medics here right now.'

'Elliot, Olivia, how's the investigation into that creep in the Lower East Side going?'

Olivia looked up and shook her head. 'Not good, Captain, so far all we've got are garbled witness accounts and one guy who swears blind that he saw Elvis do it.'

'But, we're not linking it to the other seven attacks also committed by Elvis over the past week,' said Elliot, rolling his eyes.

'Well, as much as I want to believe that Elvis is alive, well and exposing himself to old ladies, I'm going to need you to take a break from that. We've had a call come in from Washington Heights.'

'The home invasions guy?' said Olivia.

'We're not too sure. Apparently a man stumbled into a gas station in his nightclothes shouting about being attacked in his house, and then collapsed on the floor. Staff called 911, uniform attended, recognised him as a local mailman. Up in the apartment the wife's dead in their bed, one gunshot wound to the head, nothing otherwise disturbed.'

'Then why are we being called in?' asked Elliot. 'Doesn't sound like one of ours.'

'Before he passed out, the man was yelling about the intruder having a bag full of surgical instruments and vials. He said the perp showed it to him and told him what everything was for and how he intended to use it on his wife.' Cragen kneaded his forehead. He was getting to the stage where there was only so much more of this he could take. 'The husband's still under sedation. I'm not sure how much he'll be able to tell you, but uniform are still with him, so they might be able to help you out.'

'So, no staging, no extended ritual, no sign of forced entry, and the husband is somehow miraculously unhurt,' said Elliot slowly. He sounded doubtful. 'No offence, Cap'n, but I just don't think this is the same guy.'

'Neither did I,' said Cragen, 'but based on what I'm told the husband said before he completely fell apart, I've changed my mind. There were details never released to the press, things a mailman wouldn't know about otherwise. This is our guy. It has to be.'

'So why'd the perp shoot her first?' Olivia was intrigued. 'Our guy wouldn't do that. He gets off on their pain. Shooting her first would ruin the fun.'

'Maybe she refused to play nice,' suggested Elliot. 'She kicks off, the perp gets distracted, the husband takes his chance and runs.'

'Real chivalrous,' muttered Munch as he passed by.

Elliot ignored him. 'Perp realises he's not got time for the usual games, so he shoots the wife and gets the hell out of there before the guy has a chance to call the cops.'

'No, Elliot.' Cragen stopped him. 'That's the interesting thing. Apparently the perp didn't shoot her.'

'Then who did?' asked Elliot.

Cragen looked at him. 'Her husband.'