A/N: Thanks again to my faithful reviewers! Ya'll have no idea how much I appreciate you. On to the story!


Chapter 7

10:40 a.m.
Precinct 16

Olivia tossed yet another piece of paper on the floor by her desk. The normally-clean floor of the precinct was littered with papers, particularly in the area between her desk and Elliot's. They had no choice but to go through every scrap of paper they pulled from Jackson's desk, in the slim hope of finding something that connected him to Sullivan. They'd been working for more than two and a half hours, and she could almost hear the precious seconds ticking away. They had to find something—fast. Casey's life and Jack's life rested on it.

"Damn it."

A small smile spread across her face at Jack's muttered curse. He was getting impatient. Not that she could blame him. They only had about eight hours to find her, and no solid leads. Correction—their one solid lead was lying on a metal slab in the morgue.

"Too many pieces of paper."

She looked up in time to see Elliot toss yet another piece of paper on the floor. "You know, Cragen's gonna be pissed when he sees this," she pointed out.

"Tell him it's in the interest of justice," her partner retorted.

"I don't think that'll work." Olivia sighed and threw another sheet on the floor. "I've been through this bank statement from the past month, ever since he got out of the joint. He only had about two hundred bucks in the bank until a week ago."

"When he got the twenty grand for planting the bug," Jack finished.

Olivia nodded. "Right."

Jack shrugged. "Explains why he did it. But it still doesn't tell us who did it or where the hell Casey is." He pulled another sheet of paper from the top of his stack and stared at it for a minute. "What the…"

Elliot's head jerked up immediately. "What? What'd you find?"

"I know I've seen this address before."

"Where?" Olivia sat up straight and stared at him intently.

"I don't know." Jack rubbed his eyes and then ran his hand through his hair. "It looks so familiar… I can't think of where, but I think I might have been there before."

He looked up at the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. Elliot stopped in front of the map on their case board. "What's the address?"

"659 Waverly Avenue, Seaford."

Elliot traced the map with his index finger until he found the town. "That's on Long Island." He turned to face the younger man seated at his desk. "Why do you think you've been there before?"

"I have no idea." He rubbed his head quickly. Never before in his life had he felt so incredibly drained of all energy. Suddenly an idea struck him. He reached for Elliot's phone and quickly dialed a number he knew by heart.

"Andy? It's Jack… Jack Calhoun, you idiot! Yeah, I know… It's an emergency. Do you still have those files from the last three years? Yeah, the ones on Sullivan. I need you to bring them down to the 1-6 ASAP. All of 'em… No, I'll go through 'em here. Thanks man." He replaced the phone on its cradle and rubbed his temples with the heels of his palms. "He'll be here in about two hours."

"I hope you're right about this, Jack," Olivia said quietly.

He looked at her, a pained expression in his blue eyes. "Me too," he whispered.

Just then, Munch and Fin entered the bullpen, looking very pissed. "Hey," Munch growled.

"Hey," Elliot replied. "What took you guys so long?"

"Accident on the Brooklyn Bridge," Fin answered as he sank into his chair with a sigh.

"What were you doing in Brooklyn?"

"Following a crap lead," Munch replied angrily. "The guy that rented the van gave us a vacant lot." He marched to the case board and tacked up the picture they got from the rental agency. "Meet Kevin O'Donnell."

Jack leapt out of his chair excitedly. "I know him! He works for Sullivan!"

Olivia's eyes grew wide. "You're sure?"

"Positive! I've seen him several times. He's one of Sullivan's bruisers, likes to rough people up."

"Is this enough to go after Sullivan?" Elliot asked.

"No." The five turned to see Cragen standing in front of his office. He'd been listening with interest to the entire conversation. "Sullivan's lawyers can always claim O'Donnell was a maverick, acting outside his boss's orders. We need something more solid."

"We need to flip him somehow."

Cragen nodded. "Pull his jacket, find his address. I don't care how, but get him in here. We're running out of time."


11:50 a.m.
752 W. 52nd Street

Elliot followed Olivia up the six flights of stairs leading to the only apartment O'Donnell had on record. "You're sure this is the right place?"

"Cap pulled his arrest records, and this is the only apartment he had on record. Morales traced the cell to a disposable purchased at a bodega two blocks from here."

"Why the hell would a guy that worked for someone like Sullivan have a place out here in Chelsea?"

"Maybe he's a freelancer. Jack didn't say much about him." Their charge was waiting back at the precinct for Agent Russell to bring his files down.

"You've really grown to like him, huh?"

Olivia turned her head slightly so she could look at him from the corner of her eye. "Yeah, I have. He's a good guy."

Elliot smiled. "Yeah, he is. He impressed me before, and he keeps on impressing me." He paused and let his eyes meet his partner's. "Casey picks 'em good."

She chuckled. "I'll be sure to tell her that." She turned and climbed up the last flight of stairs, stopping at the door marked "C."

Elliot made a fist and knocked sharply on the wooden door. "Kevin O'Donnell?" he shouted. Nothing. "NYPD, we'd like to ask you a few questions." Still nothing.

"You're looking for Kevin?" a voice behind them asked.

The two detectives turned to see an elderly woman standing behind them, the door to her apartment opened just wide enough for her gray-capped head to stick out into the hallway. "NYPD," Olivia identified them, quickly flashing her badge. "Do you know where he is?"

"I think he went down to the bodega on the corner," she replied. "What's he done this time?"

Their ears perked up at that. "This time?" Elliot asked, trying to keep his voice from sounding overly interested.

"Kevin's been in trouble with the law a few times, what with those strange men coming in and out of his apartment at all hours of the night."

"Strange men, ma'am?" Olivia asked, shooting Elliot a quick look.

"That's what I said, young lady. Are you deaf?"

The corners of Olivia's mouth twitched as she struggled to hold back a grin. "No ma'am."

"Would you be able to recognize these men?" Elliot asked.

"Of course. I'm not blind, young man, and I'm certainly not senile."

"No ma'am." Elliot reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a couple of photos. First he showed her a photo of Peter Jackson.

"Sure. He was here a couple of nights ago."

Then he showed her a picture of Philip Sullivan.

"I'd recognize that face anywhere. He always made me nervous. Something behind those eyes. He's been coming around for the past couple of weeks."

Olivia nodded and gently grabbed Elliot's arm. "Thank you, ma'am. You've been a big help."

"Any time, dearie." With that, the door slammed, the bang echoing through the hallway.

Elliot looked at his partner with a smile. "Eyewitnesses are good for cases."

"We have our connection to Sullivan. But I guarantee the DA's gonna want something more substantial."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I'm feeling a little hungry. You?"

Olivia grinned. "Famished."


The two detectives rounded the corner from O'Donnell's apartment building, simultaneously stuffing their hands in their pockets to ward off the cold. They had barely gone a block when they spotted a very familiar face walking toward them. He carried a paper bag in one beefy arm.

"There's our guy," Elliot whispered. His hand moved to his side, resting on the butt of his gun. "Kevin O'Donnell?" he shouted.

O'Donnell glanced up, and his eyes widened when he saw the two detectives coming toward him.

Olivia saw him shift the bag in his hand, and she caught a glimpse of something large, black, and metal under his thick jacket. "He's got a gun, El," she said quietly as they came within a few yards of their suspect, and her own hand went to her side.

As soon as the words left her lips, O'Donnell threw the bag at them and took off running. Elliot and Olivia sprinted after him. "Stop! Police!" Elliot shouted.

The suspect weaved in and out of the pedestrians, who leapt to the side. He yanked his gun out of his pants as he turned right into an alley.

"Police!" Olivia shouted. Another alley appeared in her peripheral vision, and she skidded to a halt before she passed it. Quickly she turned and dashed down that alley, leaving Elliot to continue in hot pursuit.

Elliot quickly gained on O'Donnell. He willed his legs to move even faster and kept his head up as he ran. O'Donnell looked behind him and stopped. Elliot's eyes grew wide as he saw the suspect level his gun at him, and he dove to the side just as O'Donnell pulled the trigger.

Bang!

He tumbled into a pile of garbage bags, and the shot echoed through the alley. "Crazy bastard," Elliot muttered as he picked himself up and took off after the fleeing suspect.

O'Donnell looked behind him again. He'd missed, but the cop was far back. There was no way he'd catch him now.

That was his last thought before something slammed into his body—hard. His breath rushed out of him in a whoosh as he fell to the ground, his pistol skittering across the pavement. He looked behind him and up, and he saw the pretty face of the female cop through his blurring vision.

Olivia picked herself up off the ground and grabbed O'Donnell's wrist, still trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her in the tackle. She twisted one arm behind his back, straddled him, then twisted the other. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to run from the cops?" she asked as she slapped the cuffs on him.

"I didn't do nothin'," he muttered.

"You took a shot at my partner. That's assaulting a police officer," she answered.

Elliot ran up behind her. "You okay, Liv?" he called. "That was one helluva tackle."

"I'm fine," she answered. "You okay?"

"Sure." Elliot went over to where O'Donnell's gun lay innocently on the pavement. "Not smart, Kevin."

"I didn't do nothin'," he repeated.

"Now why don't I believe you?"

Olivia grabbed his jacket and pulled him up. "You've got a lot of 'splaining to do, Kev."