Bronx Storage & Supplies Inc.
Olivia got out of the car and closed the door, unsnapping her holster. She looked to her right and saw the elementary school; to her left the storage warehouse.
She heard the back door open and close. "'Das it."
She looked at Aleisha Duncan, their teenage map of Bronx suburbia.
"'Das where he lives. Don't know why them stupid-ass little kids bother him so much, ya know? I mean, sure, he's just some homeless guy, but he looks nasty to me. Like he's got rabies or some'em. He's usually out right now, but I ain't seen him since..." she thought about it for a moment. "Since, like Thursday. I always gotta come here an' pick up my little bro, and that man's always there. Just standin', ya know? He's creepy."
Elliot looked at her. "You need a ride back to the park?"
Aleisha looked at him, her eyebrows raised in a comical expression. "Yeah, right. It's less than a mile. Besides, in this neighborhood, ya try an' stay out of cops cars, ya know?"
Elliot smiled as Aleisha took off.
Olivia looked at her partner and pointed to the school. "Teddy wasn't kidding when he said it was near the school. The playground and road are the only things separating them."
Elliot nodded, and crossed the road, Olivia following behind. As they reached the warehouse's open doors, they grabbed hold of their guns, not pulling them out of their holsters but clicking off the safeties. Olivia doubted they were necessary, but... Doubting was what could cost a life.
They entered, poised and ready for someone to come out of the shadows. The dimly lit environment of the warehouse smelled of burnt newspapers and gasoline. She breath in the stale air, tense and alert.
"Liv." Elliot's clipped whisper caught her attention and he raised his gun. She followed his eyes to a baseball bat. The same baseball bat Teddy had tried to defend himself and his friends with.
She pulled her gun out of it's sheath. "No doubt now."
"Police!" he called out. "Anybody here?"
Olivia looked around the empty storage house, then motioned to a door that was labeled 'JANITOR'. Elliot nodded and they approached quickly but with caution. Olivia kicked papers and a canister of pepper spray with her foot, forging a trail of clean floor.
"Hello? We just need to ask you a few questions."
Olivia knocked on the door. "Sir? Anybody?"
Elliot looked at her and without a word drew back in a defensive stance, bringing his gun up aimed at gut level.
She brought her own gun up, then tried the door. To their surprise, it was unlocked. She swung it open and brought both hands on the gun.
"Great." She looked down into the glassy, gray eyes of a dead, homeless man surrounded by blankets. He was wearing a ratty, old tee-shirt with the words Bad Man emblazoned in maroon.
Elliot holstered his gun. "So much for 'Bad Man'."
Olivia frowned seeing a glint of metal as her partner moved briefly in and out of the sunlight. She bent over and, clicking the safety back on, nudged one of the covers up six inches with her weapon.
"Needle. And judging by the tracks on his arms, I'd say we can guess the cause of death." She used her gun to nudge the man's right wrist, then left. "No purple tattoo."
"Aleisha said she hasn't seen him since Thursday. Think he's been dead since around that time?"
She nodded. "Boys would have gotten a hell of a shock if he was."
"Better than what they did get."
* * * * *
"A dead junkie? So, we've got no suspects, and no witnesses to the kidnapping. Nobody on a busy and crowded street saw the driver of this van, and no clue as to who this partner is." Cregan eyed his four detectives. "What have we got?"
Fin's phone rang. Everyone looked at it. Fin reached forward and picked it up. "SVU, Detective Tutuola."
Cregan looked back to the other three. "Well?"
There was a moment of silence, then Munch spoke up. "We got a call around two from the DMV. The plate was registered to a Henry Fri, but the car was a 1990 burgundy Plymouth. The plate was reported stolen three days ago."
Cregan waited, then raised his eyebrows. "That's it?"
"No," Fin said as he hung up. "That isn't it. They found the van."
Cregan nodded. "Impeccable timing."
Fin looked at Olivia and Elliot. "But they also found the third boy."
* * * * *
Beachside View Hotel
"Jamal Warner."
"Right. The missing kid in your case."
Elliot nodded at Richard Hoss, one of the forensic specialists on the scene.
"Well, he's not so missing now."
Elliot followed Richard down the shore and away from the van. He glanced over his shoulder at his partner, speaking with Timothy Rios, also from forensics, about the vehicle.
Richard turned to look at Elliot, then back to the beach in front. "It seems the kid tried to run from the driver of that van. Didn't make it very far, though. If he ran the other way, the same distance, it could have saved his life."
Elliot frowned. "Why's that?"
"Well, there were construction workers inside the hotel. As it is none of them saw anything."
"Construction workers?"
"Yeah. It's temporarily closed, so no guests and therefore the beach was entirely deserted."
Elliot stepped around a pile of garbage. "No witnesses. Damn it." They approached Jamal Warner's body. "How'd he die?"
Richard bent over the boy, pointing to his pulverized skull with a pen. "Massive blows to the head with a tire iron." He looked up at the detective. "I'd say four to eight rapid blows. The kid probably died after the first one to two-"
Elliot interrupted him "Which denotes panic on the part of the assailant."
Richard nodded and stood up.
"Any prints one the tire iron?"
"We're checking."
Elliot glanced once more at the dead child, feeling the familiar pang of sorrow, then turned and left. This job never grew on you. Never.
He supposed that was a good thing.
He approached Olivia just as she turned towards him. "They found children's prints in the back, but they probably belong to Teddy and his friends."
Elliot looked over the ocean, bright and beautiful but cold for almost five in the afternoon. "You mean hopefully."
She nodded. "I don't want to think these bastards have done this before and gotten away with it."
"But what are the odds?"
Olivia nodded again, this time slower, her eyes on the ocean as well. "I told Tim the plate was stolen three days ago, so he checked and so far he's lifted a whole and two partials. They also found a partial on the car keys. "
"Let's hope they're our guy's."
* * * * *
"Got 'em." Munch hung up the phone and stood, stretching his back. He looked at his notes, reading to his colleagues and captain. "Prints found on the plate and car keys belong to one Tyo McNillian. Twenty-three year old black cab driver, accused but never convicted on two accounts of molestation of two sixteen year old boys."
Olivia opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, he continued, throwing his notepad back on the table. "That's not it. Apparently the cabby wanted the whole 'hands on experience' of killing. Took his gloves off before beating the Warner boy to death with the tire iron. Left plenty of prints."
Cregan nodded, and looked at Olivia and Elliot. "You know where to go with this one."
Chapter Three
Park Av.
Saturday, April 21st
8700 NW 57th St.
Saturday, April 21st
