A/N…Thanks for the reviews and follows! Sorry this one was a little later than I planned. I kept making changes to the next chapter which affected this one. The good news is the next one shouldn't take much longer.
To Sell… Agreed. Alex isn't a weak character. I can't see it either. She'll have limitations from time to time, she'll be vulnerable in certain situations, but she'll never be the typical damsel in distress. Chapter lengths will vary. Yes, there will be some long ones.
To All… A little angst on the way. It does get better. Huge plot twist is coming and I'm fighting the urge to say more than that. ;)
More snippets from Blind Spot.
x x x
~PRESENT~
He sits silently in the backseat of the sedan while his two cohorts deliberately avoid any mention of Eames or the case on the ride over.
The backseat isn't getting much air and the stop-and-go traffic through the Midtown tunnel is making him queasy.
He's starting to fidget.
Maybe it's premature, but he's already counting on this victim to be someone else.
His memory of the incident a couple years ago keeps entering his mind…
"Sebastian's got Eames! He's got Eames!"
"Fill in the chief of Ds.
Call the borough task force.
Put all hands on standby, officer taken.
Last time you saw her?"
"Uh…here. Two AM. She drives home…"
Moments later, they arrive. Benson parks the Crown Vic at the curb and the three of them get out.
One of the uniformed officers approaches them. "No ID on her, none in this vicinity. Victim was stuffed in a trash bag and left by the side of the road."
"Any witnesses? Who found her?" Olivia prompts.
"A guy out walking his dog. Bike messenger was next on the scene and he reported it. First guy was looking a little green around the gills, so we got his name and sent him on his way. My partner's with the bike messenger now."
Elliot stands with his arms folded looking perplexed.
It's Riverside Park. FDR Drive runs parallel.
"How the hell does someone dump a body late afternoon around here without getting noticed?" he ponders aloud. "It's peak rush hour."
The officer shrugs. "It looked like a bag of trash, people left it alone. But the bag split open at some point. Someone got curious or maybe an animal found it."
Bobby leans toward Olivia and quietly asks, "Were any of his other victims left in a trash bag or covered up in some way?"
"The second victim was wrapped in a bed sheet and left a few hundred feet from here," Olivia replies. She reads his questioning eyes and then adds, "It doesn't sound like his usual M-O, except that each victim has had something a little different from the others."
They're parked behind the medical examiner, CSU and the officer's vehicle. The three continue toward Dr. Warner. She and a tech are squatting on the ground beside the corpse. There's a cover over the body.
Melinda lifts her head as they approach. "Hey, detectives," she greets. Her eyes drift over to Bobby, whose presence and stature make him stand out. "Detective…Goren? What brings you out to sex crimes? I thought you were with Major Case?"
He flashes his badge. "FBI now. Just helping SVU on this case."
"Congrats! Smartest move the Feds have made in a while."
He grins bashfully. "Thanks."
"Just a warning. Stabler doesn't play nice with the Bureau," Melinda teases. "Well…technically, anyone but Liv." She averts her eyes toward his partner in time to see Olivia attempt to hide a grin.
Bobby smirks. "I already kinda knew that."
"It's not a federal case, he's just on loan," Elliot explains. He gives Bobby a friendly slap on the shoulder. "For now, he's one of us."
Melinda smiles. "Well, it's nice to see you again, Goren. Liz Rodgers always speaks so highly of you."
"Nice to see you too. And give Rodgers my best when you see her," he replies.
"Will do."
Bobby squats down on the other side of the victim. He retrieves a pair of gloves and puts them on.
Melinda pulls back the cover. The victim's face is unrecognizable from swollen areas, scratches, deep cuts, bruising, dried blood and dirt.
One of the officers suddenly pulls the two detectives aside for a moment. While they wait for the detectives to rejoin them, she gives Goren a minute to look over the victim.
Victim is wearing a dark-colored tank top and a pair of jeans.
Eames is healthy and active, and this woman obviously was too. Body size, bone structure and frame are similar.
He can't discern anything about the facial features with this kind of tissue damage.
While his eyes pass a glance over her shoulder, a thought occurs to him. Her right side is toward him. He leans over and carefully lifts her shoulder blade just high enough for him to see the back of it.
Relief washes over him. This isn't Eames.
The two detectives rejoin them and Melinda begins to discuss her initial findings.
"We've got a Jane Doe. Mid-to-late 30s. Died sometime between midnight and 4:00am. There's vaginal tearing, but negative for semen or fluids. The tears suggest rough sex more than sodomy, unlike his other victims. You see that she's wearing clothes, but her panties are missing. My guess is this creep kept them, but CSU's still checking the area."
"He's not in the habit of keeping souvenirs," Elliot remarks curiously.
Melinda nods and continues. "Lacerations and bruising on the face, shoulders and arms continue to the waist and pelvic area. All of the cuts look fresh or as recent as the attack."
Bobby remains focused on the bruising and cuts on her forehead. "These marks are jagged… H-he pushed her face into something… Rocks? Bricks? Her back was to him. Or…maybe he was lying on top of her…holding her down while he did this."
"Doesn't he usually restrain his victims?" Melinda recalls, looking to the two detectives for clarification.
They both nod.
She shows them one of the victim's hands, which has a CSU bag over it. "No rope abrasions on either her wrists or her ankles."
Next, she shows them the victim's fingers through the CSU bag. Underneath her nails, they see what appears to be dried blood and a tiny hair. "I'm hoping she grabbed this creep's DNA while she was trying to get away," Melinda comments.
Bobby looks at the victim's hair, which is lightly damp and stiff with a greasy texture to it. He touches a few strands and rubs the substance between his fingers, then lifts it to his nose to see if there's an odor he can detect.
Melinda settles back and watches him. She remembers Liz's comment about Goren's sharp sense of smell and ability to place odors. She glances up in time to see a curious glance pass between the two SVU detectives while they watch him.
"What is it, Goren? Hair gel?" Elliot prompts.
"No, it's some kind of…," he pauses to smell it again, "…cooking oil. Used cooking oil. Hmm…and maybe…" he sniffs it again, "…ginger…sesame oil…?" He checks for any oil remnants on her clothing and skin.
"You think the perp put her in a dumpster outside a restaurant that dumps their cooking oil, then moved the body later?" Elliot speculates.
Bobby shakes his head, still examining the victim's clothes. "Not sure it was a dumpster, Elliot. I think it was dumped over her."
"Wouldn't cooking oil leave a first or second degree burn?"
"Not seeing any blistering," Melinda answers Elliot. "However, there are a couple of questionable places along the brow line that may be worth checking into further when I bring her back to the lab."
"Most of the oil is in her hair. There's some on her skin and her clothes. It's possible the oil was hot enough to cause a burn…" Bobby pauses as a thought occurs to him and looks toward the two detectives. "…but I'm not sure that was his motive."
Olivia catches his suggestion and nods. "He was getting rid of the body. He intended to set her on fire and changed his mind. Cooking oil was the most convenient, so maybe he works in a restaurant."
"Wonder what stopped him?" Elliot asks.
"No idea. But this doesn't sound like our guy, El," Olivia says, turning toward him. "He's not this sloppy."
"So I guess you two just caught a new case," Bobby says to them. "It's not our perp and it's definitely…not her."
"Not who?" Melinda asks.
He releases a heavy sigh before answering her. "My former Major Case partner is missing."
"That sick bastard has Alex Eames?" she gasps, looking as angry and disgusted as the rest of them when they heard the news.
"Looks that way."
"Well, if anyone can take this creep down and stop it from happening to someone else…it's Detective Eames," she says supportively, meeting Bobby's somber eyes.
He nods.
"What was on her shoulder?" Melinda asks curiously.
He carefully turns the victim onto her side, then lowers the shoulder strap. "Eames has a heart-shaped tattoo on her right shoulder. This victim doesn't."
x
~A couple hours later…~
"Good evening, Goren," Chief Moran greets.
"Good evening, sir."
While Benson and Stabler talk to CSU and wrap up their day, he has a meeting with Chief Moran in the SVU interrogation room.
More bullshit of course.
Captain Cragen and Detective Munch were at the hospital with a young victim. Cragen said they'd be back shortly and he'd stop in when he returns.
"So is Federal Plaza working out okay?" Moran begins.
Bobby ignores the condescending tone he hears in his tone. "It's a good job. I'm happy to have it."
"Great. Well, I'll get right to it. I'm not sure you should be involved in this case, when your ex-partner is among the missing and could be a vict—"
"Sir—" he starts to interject.
Moran holds up his hand. "I'm going to allow it…for now. But only if you promise to cooperate with Captain Cragen, this department, and IAB during the investigation."
"I said that I would."
"Alright. I have some questions," Moran begins, checking his tablet of notes. "You were questioned earlier by Detectives Benson and Stabler. At that time, you were told that more questioning may be forthcoming. Our office plans to be very thorough. We take this investigation seriously. She's to be treated as one of our own."
"I understand."
He already hates this. First, he'd rather be going over the DVDs and trying to figure out where she is, instead of answering more probing questions from the department.
He'll find her if they'd leave him to do what he knows best.
Besides that, every second counts. Eames's life is at stake.
Second, Moran is an ass. The night he had dinner with Eames, she tells him that Moran would have rather been given the task of firing him.
"You were the last person in contact with Alex Eames. Could you elaborate on what took place?"
Bobby explains what happened from the moment she arrived at his door until he left the restaurant.
The questions that follow are similar to the ones he answered earlier, with minor adjustments to wording.
Twenty minutes later, he reaches his limit.
"Have you ever lied about on-the-job relationships in order to avoid disciplinary action?"
Without answering Moran's last question, he stands up from the table. "This is a waste of time, Eames is missing!"
"We're not done here! Sit down!"
"These questions have been asked and answered."
"If you're hiding anything, Goren, I'm going to find out," Moran says smugly. "Now sit down!"
He shakes his head. "This interview is over and I'm getting a lawyer…"
"That won't be necessary," Captain Cragen interjects, as he walks in and closes the door. "My detectives ruled him out as a suspect. If you want to go over what's already been asked, you can talk to me," he tells Moran.
Before he can speak, Moran's cell phone rings. He tugs it out of his pocket and answers. "This is Chief Moran..." He listens for a moment, and then tells the person on the other line that he's on his way and ends the call. "I've got something urgent to attend to. This isn't over."
They watch him leave the conference room.
"Pompous prick," Cragen mutters quietly, shaking his head. He turns back toward Bobby. "Sorry about that. When he returns, I'll handle it."
"Thanks."
"So, what did you, Stabler and Benson find out about the victim on Riverside?"
"Her name is Vickie Mesa. Prints are in the system because of a minor drug possession charge a few years back."
"Is she one of the missing girls?"
"No sir. It's not the perp either. She was last seen with a male neighbor and his friends at a bar last night. She didn't show up for work today. Couple of blows to the head might be what killed her. Looks a little personal."
"Like an old lover with an ax to grind?" Cragen supposes.
Bobby nods. "Something like that. Perp got a little messy with the clean up. We think he intended to drop her body in the East River, but she ended up a few feet from the FDR. Just happens to be in the same area as the other victims."
"Well, thanks for helping us out, even if it didn't give us any new leads on Eames."
"No problem."
Cragen checks his watch. "It's almost eight. We'll resume tomorrow. Do you need to check in at Federal Plaza in the morning?"
"At some point. But I'm going to hang out here for a little while and start looking over the DVDs. That okay?"
"It's already been a long day. You should go home and get some sleep."
"Actually, I'm wide awake. I've got a second wind."
"No thanks to Chief Moran, I'll bet," he remarks dryly. "You know where everything is. Good night, Goren."
"Good night, sir."
x
Bobby exits the conference room after Cragen. The bullpen is mostly empty. It's a skeleton crew until morning.
He crosses the bullpen and finds the files and DVDs sitting on the corner of Benson's desk.
He opens the folder and his eyes fall to Eames's picture.
A heavy sigh escapes.
"Sebastian is a classic anger-excitation killer.
Highly ritualized torture and degradation sessions.
Eames is dead. Accept."
"Hey… You still here?"
Deep in his own reflections, Bobby jumps a little and then lifts his head in the direction of the voice.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," John Munch says. He has his jacket on and a few things in his hand, including a set of keys. Probably headed home.
"I thought I'd hang out a little longer and look over the DVDs. See if I can figure something out."
"Need another set of eyes? Trust me, they're never easy to sit through alone."
"No, but thanks. I'll be fine."
"I've got a half a pastrami sandwich in the refrigerator if you get hungry. Help yourself."
"Thanks, Munch."
"No problem. Good night." John heads for the garage.
"Good night."
His eyes return to the file and her picture.
"He told me to scream, so I didn't."
He collects the DVDs and walks over to the spot that Captain Cragen and the computer tech, Morales set up for him.
After prepping the DVD, he takes a couple of deep breaths, picks up the remote and presses play.
x x x
~PAST~
Somewhere in Manhattan…
She can't sleep. At best, short intervals of time will pass when she's less aware of her surroundings and her discomfort.
She's back on the mattress again. She's pretty sure it's the same one.
The cords are wrapped a little tighter around her wrists and ankles, and they're bothering her. This time, the creep tied her to the bedposts so she wouldn't escape.
Her pants and shirt are gone. It's little consolation, but he spared her panties, bra and her tank top. They're barely on her at the moment.
Malik threw her down on the bed and her clothes were pulled or torn off of her. He blindfolds her, restrains her, then puts tape over her mouth to keep her quiet.
Next he begins punching her, yelling at her...' You won't move from this spot again! Do you hear me, you little witch?'
She's under the influence of whatever he gave her, so her efforts to push him off are meager at best. She squirms and tries to avoid him until he sets a knife blade to her skin and offers a stern warning… Stay still or he'd cut her.
He rapes her. Although she knows it's happening, the lingering effects of the injection keep her from being fully alert during the ordeal.
Finally, he leaves.
Tears dampen the blindfold and she's not even trying to cry.
The strain on her arms, shoulders and back is killing her. It takes some effort, but she's able to rotate her arms so she can lie on her side. It lessens the strain somewhat.
x
She's in that sleep-like fog until someone taps her on her back.
Her body tenses and panic sets in. She doesn't know if she has the strength to fight back, if it comes to that.
She draws back defensively when she feels a second tap.
"Alex?" Cole prompts softly, tapping her once more. "Hey, it's just me."
She doesn't give a fuck. She can't exactly answer him with tape over her mouth.
He finally notices the tape and carefully removes it.
"Get away from me!" she orders.
"Hey, I just—"
The tears are returning. "Leave me alone!"
"I'm not gonna hurt you! I want to help—"
"I SAID leave me alone!"
"Listen… I know he raped you!" There's concern in his tone.
She doesn't want to talk about it. "Just go!"
He sits down on the side of the bed and covers her from the waist down with something lightweight. It feels like a bed sheet. "Here. I thought this would help."
She appreciates the gesture, but she really needs him to leave.
"We don't have to talk. I'll just sit here."
Do I get a choice, jackass? "How long does he plan to keep me here?" she asks.
"I don't know…"
"Bullshit."
"Sorry. I can't tell you what I don't know."
If she could see his face, she'd know if he's lying.
Forty minutes pass in a dead silence. Her knee is bothering her and the restraints make it worse. Too much pressure in one spot. She needs them loosened somehow.
Well, he did promise bathroom breaks.
"Cole, I have to use the bathroom."
"Okay."
He removes the restraints that bind her to the bedposts, but leaves the ropes that are tied around her wrists and ankles.
She's able to bring her arms down in front of her. It takes a moment to get the circulation back.
Alex sits up slowly, feeling lightheaded and weak, but relieved to be free of the bed restraints. She'd knock Cole out of the way and head for the door if she was physically able to.
She reaches underneath the sheet he just put over her and adjusts her clothing. It's a struggle, both emotionally and physically and she tries not to let it show. She feels his eyes watching her.
When she appears to be finished, Cole wraps his arms around her and hugs her. She doesn't even have time to react. Her arms are caught between them, so she can't do anything with them.
He soon realizes that she has some tender spots where Malik hit her and loosens his grip.
"I'm so sorry," he offers. "When I've got Amanda back, this creep's dead."
She doesn't like to be grabbed. Especially by someone she hardly knows. She allows him to comfort her for a moment, but draws back sooner than he'd like.
The blindfold is covered in sweat and tears. She reaches up to remove it and he covers her hand to stop her. "Leave it on."
"Why?"
"Videos cameras… Big prick is watching," he grumbles in a hushed tone.
"Like I give a shit," she replies, making no effort to hide her voice.
"Please just do what he says."
"Is he afraid I'll ID this place when I go to the police? Too late, I've already seen it. Cops get convictions with less evidence than this."
"Shhh…" he cautions, concerned about the recording devices in that room.
"You know what's interesting…? You're the only part of this fucked-up situation that I haven't seen! Why is that, Cole?"
"I'm not the one calling the shots," he argues.
"Yeah? Prove it!"
"When I know it's safe, I'll let you see what I look like."
"Fine."
"By the way, you're not missing much. I could use a haircut," he adds lightly.
He helps her to the bathroom again. Much to her surprise, she hears him leave to give her some privacy. He tells her he's just outside the door. She doesn't hear it close completely and assumes he's watching.
At the moment, she really doesn't care.
With some effort, she manages to get her panties down. Everything hurts. Her knee doesn't flex without some soreness. She can't even get it comfortable as she sits.
More tears fall.
She's been a cop for most of her life. Why couldn't she stop this?
Several minutes pass before she realizes she's just sitting there. She finishes part of the reason she came in. Mostly out of habit, she reaches around for some toilet paper and can't find any.
Cole announces himself and re-enters the bathroom to hand her a roll.
It's a new roll. She's not going to ask where it came from. He's obviously trying to be nice, although she's still not sure why.
"Thanks," she tells him.
"No problem."
She expects him to leave, but he doesn't. He's seen just about everything, but she'd like a shred of her dignity back. "Uh…Cole? I have to…"
He turns around. "Go ahead. I'm facing the other way."
She stands back up slowly.
"Uh… H-he wants me to…umm…give you a bath," Cole adds hesitantly while he waits.
"He can go to hell," she responds flatly.
"Alex, I—"
"Yeah, I get it. He wants to wash any DNA off me."
"He said it's either him or me…"
"Then screw you both!"
Cole sighs. "Come on, Alex… This isn't for MY benefit. You think I like this situation?"
"Hell, I don't know… I don't know you!"
"Well, I don't. And I need you to trust me."
"Why?"
"Look, I'll make it easy on you. Can't promise you'll get the same deal from him."
"If the NYPD finds my dead body, there's gonna be evidence to nail that sonofabitch!"
"It's not worth it! Let's just get it over with."
"He can go fuck himself!"
"You already know what he'll do," he states wearily. "Just let me help—"
"No!" she says adamantly. "This is humiliating enough."
He sighs. "At least let me clean your cuts and put some ointment on you. Your skin's too nice to get an infection."
After a long pause, she agrees.
x
She sits on the closed toilet lid while Cole tends to the cuts and scratches with peroxide and gauze pads.
Most of them are due to the ropes being too tight. A few times, Malik hit her hard enough to break the skin. It felt like he had something in his hand.
Maybe he wears a ring?
But Cole's gentle and mindful of any sore places, which she appreciates. While she'd rather be alone, this could be worse.
He finishes cleaning the cuts and puts some bandages on them.
"I'm sorry, I have to…put the restraints back on too. I won't make them tight."
She has bruises on her arms, legs and back. Her knee is a little swollen.
Just before he replaces the restraints, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a bottle of pills. She hears the pills rattle as he sets it in her hand.
"Here's some Aleve," he offers. He hands her a bottle of water next. "I'll get you some ice a little later."
"You just happen to be carrying Aleve, bandages and peroxide with you?" she asks suspiciously.
"I know what Malik is like."
"Who else has he attacked?"
"If by 'attacked' you mean getting jumped by his 280-pound thugs…? Well, there's me. I fought back, but I was outnumbered." He lowers his voice and leans toward her ear. "I'm working on a plan to get us out of here. We'll have to sit tight for now."
"This is not the first time I've been someone's prisoner. I escaped then and I'll get out this."
"Alex, please…?"
"Please what?"
"Please don't. Let me make us a plan."
"You expect me to just sit on a mattress and wait…?"
"You don't know him like I do. Trust me."
"He wants something, Cole. Otherwise, he would have killed me."
"You think he's just going to let you walk out of here?"
"We'll see who comes up with a plan first," she asserts.
She pushes the cap off the bottle of pills and there's a foil seal. She checks all along the top for breaks in the seal. Then, using her fingernail, she removes it. Beneath the wad of cotton, she finds the tablets.
She rubs one of the pills between her fingers. Small, oval-shaped. It's probably Aleve. He made a point of leaving the bottle sealed so she could see for herself.
She unscrews the cap on the water, tosses two pills in her mouth and swallows them down.
"So you're a cop?" he prompts, needing to change the subject.
"Surprised you knew that," she retorts.
"Why?"
"You think I can't handle myself."
"I never said—" He pauses, not wanting to turn this into a dispute. "I knew you were a cop… Just making conversation."
"Yes. I was until I resigned," she answers.
"Why did you?"
"They outed my partner. I didn't agree with their reasons."
"I don't particularly like the police."
"I guess it has something to do with Amanda, right?"
"Some of it, yes. But I don't trust them," Cole replies.
"Any of them?"
"Mostly the NYPD."
"Malik came after both of us. There has to be a connection somewhere. Someone we both know. Do you know any of his other victims? Have you seen or heard him with anyone else?" she asks.
"No I don't. He has people he's in contact with regularly. A phone call, then he's gone. I don't know what it's about, he speaks another language."
"Where the hell are we? Give me an address."
"I—I really don't know, Alex." He nudges her a couple times letting her know that he can't say anything at the moment, but he'll explain later.
She nods. "Aren't you from around here? Where do you live?"
"From New York…yes. I'm not a city guy by choice. Used to live in Bensonhurst, but I've been staying with a friend in Bulls Head. Haven't been home lately, but I don't think he cares. We're not that close."
"Where did you grow up?"
"Wow, so many questions," he chuckles. "Okay… But only if you tell me where you grew up."
"Inwood."
"Born in Bensonhurst. I bounced around foster homes between Staten Island and Brooklyn."
"What happened with your parents?"
"I don't remember them. They died before my 2nd birthday. Car accident. No brothers or sisters. What about your family?"
"Dad was a cop, mom stayed at home. Dad's retired now. My brother's a cop. Two of my cousins are cops."
"Wow, so the whole family caught the bug, huh?" he teases.
"You really don't like cops?"
He nudges her lightly. "No, but I'll make an exception for adorable ex-cops."
x x x
TBC…
Next, Chapter 5 – Risks
A/N 2 - There's a big reason why Cole hates cops, but it might not be what you think. There's also a big reason why the SVU case had nothing to do with Alex's case. You'll find out pretty soon. After this, the story takes a slightly different turn which I think you'll all like.