Hey, if you're new to my writing, you can find me on tumblr at lauramoon, or follow my writing blog at juiceinpanties. I run that with Lynn, aka hermankozik.

Thanks for the reviews! Sonny does need lovin', damn.


Chapter 7: The Sordid Tale of Bill Peterson

It was a day of dead-ends on the Herky Jerky case. Fin caught a subway flasher case, so Liv sent Carisi with him to check it out. They were just returning to the precinct when Rollins waved him down.

"Did you get my message?" she said.

He frowned and tugged his phone from his pocket. "Shit. No, I guess I didn't hear it. What's up?"

"We got the DNA back from the latest crime scene. Carisi: it doesn't match."

He stared at her. "What're you talkin' about?"

Rollins shook her head, blonde ponytail swinging. "The semen didn't come from the same perp as the other three break-ins. We're dealing with a copycat."

"Jesus." He sank down into his chair. Scrubbed a hand over his face. "The escalation. Or, what we thought was escalation. You think it's personal instead? Like this guy was specifically goin' after Olivia Gable?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, I think it's possible. He read about the break-ins in the paper and decided it was time to make his move."

"We gotta tell Olivia about this. Warn her."

Rollins gave him a curious look. Something about the way he said the vic's name was oddly…personal. "I already called her," she said. "She's on her way down now."

"Good. That's good. I gotta talk to Liv."

He stood without another word and went to knock on Benson's office door. Rollins stared after him, nonplussed. What the hell? He looked incredibly shaken, like a rug had been pulled out from under him.

"Think he's bangin' her?" Fin said.

Rollins whipped around to stare at him. "Carisi? Banging who?"

"Your vic. She's cute."

"No way. Fin, you're talking about Sonny Carisi, professional Boy Scout. He would never do that."

Fin lifted his hands in a shrug. "Just sayin'. That was a weird as hell reaction, and he ran awful fast to talk to Liv. Findin' out the perp targeted this victim personally would be a damn good reason Carisi would need to be taken off the case. If he were bangin' her, I mean."

Rollins just rolled her eyes and walked away.

Carisi, meanwhile, had been let into Benson's office, and he was trying to figure out how to tell her. He paced a little, until she told him to sit down and spit it out. He sat. Rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs.

"Did Rollins get you up to speed on the lab results?" she finally said.

"Yep. That's, uh, part of why I'm here. Listen, Loo, you know—you know I'd never do anything to jeopardize a case."

She took off her glasses and sat back, a crease appearing between her brows. "What's this about, Carisi?"

He took a deep breath. "The latest vic, Loo. Olivia Gable."

"I'm familiar with her, yes."

He rose again and ran a hand through his hair. "She and I—that is, uh…you gotta take me off the case," he said in a rush.

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingertips. "Carisi. Please, for the love of all that's holy, tell me you did not sleep with the victim."

There was a pause. "Can't tell you that, Loo."

"What the fuck, Carisi?!" she cried. "First Barba has to recuse himself because he went on a date with her—"

"In all fairness, his mom set that up and neither of them had a very good time."

"But at least that was before she was our victim!" she continued like he hadn't spoken. "Now you tell me that since the break-in you've slept with her?!"

"I didn't plan it, I swear! It just—happened." He blushed and looked down at his polished wingtips. "Twice," he mumbled.

"Don't give me details," she said with a wave of her hand. "I don't want to know. Just—you're on desk duty for the time being. Get out of my sight."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry." He tucked his tail between his legs and ran, nearly bowling Barba over as he passed him in Benson's doorway. "Sorry," he muttered again and kept running.

Barba stared after him, then glanced in at Liv. She looked…displeased, to say the least. "What was that about?" he said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. He sat down in the chair Carisi had just vacated and offered her the extra latte he carried.

She took it with a grateful smile and sipped before she said, through gritted teeth, "Apparently Carisi is sleeping with our vic."

He froze. Carisi…and Olivia? Carisi?! And Olivia?! "You're kidding," he said on a breath.

"I only wish I were," she said. It seemed to register then that he was actually sitting there in her office. "What are you doing down here? The flasher case already? Fin and Carisi just went out on that one."

He took a sip of his own coffee to buy himself some time. "Ah…no. I just came to check on the progress of the break-in case."

"The break-in case. Aren't you off that one?" she said, her eyes narrowing.

"Well. Yes. Consider it professional interest. And O'Dwyer's in court this morning, so I figured I could pass along any new info you might have."

She was too tired to argue with him and decided to just take his explanation at face value. Clearly there was more to it than that, but between her detective sleeping with the vic and her ADA going on a disastrous blind date with her, Benson had had just about enough of the whole thing.

"There is something," she said, "and it's pretty big." She grabbed a file off her desk and slid it to him.

He flipped it open and frowned down at the page. A moment later he looked up at her, his eyes wide. "A different perp?"

"Mmhmm. Copycat, we think."

He slapped the folder shut and tapped it against his leg. "Was Ms. Gable specifically targeted, or just a victim of circumstance?"

Benson lifted a hand in a shrug. "We don't know yet. Rollins asked her to come in this morning so we could talk to her some more. Find out if there's anyone who might target her."

Barba licked his lips and took a thoughtful sip of coffee. "You should run the name Bill—or perhaps William—Peterson. He would be in his late forties, early fifties now. He got in some trouble about twenty years ago. Statutory rape charge in Virginia."

"What would a two-decades old statutory case have to do with all of this?"

"Maybe nothing," he said with an insouciant shrug. "Just run the name. And ask Olivia about him."

"Barba—"

"Liv." He rose and dropped the file on her desk, smiling lightly. "Trust me, yeah?"

"Fine," she said. She stood and stalked to the door. Jerked it open. "Fin. Carisi's off the most recent break-in case and you're on. Ask Rollins to get you up to speed. Rollins, I need you to run a name."

Fin and Rollins exchanged a look. "Whatever you need, Liv," Fin said. "We got you."


Carisi wasn't around when Olivia got to the precinct, and Rollins and Benson spoke to her instead. They told her about the DNA results, then Benson asked her about Bill Peterson.

It was a name she hadn't heard in a almost two decades—until last night. The only place she could've gotten it was from Barba. Fucking Barba! She hadn't told him one of her darkest secrets so he could go blabbing it to the cops less than twenty-four hours later!

She explained the situation as thoroughly as she could. When she was through, Rollins and Benson stared at her.

"You didn't think this was relevant to share with us?" Rollins finally said.

"It was eighteen years ago. I was sixteen. It happened in Virginia! Why would I connect that with this?"

"DMV records indicate that Bill Peterson has been living in New Jersey for the last five years," Benson said.

"I had no idea," Olivia told her. "I didn't keep tabs on him. I really just tried to forget the whole thing."

"You don't think he might be angry with you, Olivia?" Rollins said. "You seduced him. Ruined his career. He was on the sex offender registry for seven years, which meant he couldn't even use the internet for nearly a decade."

Olivia frowned and looked down at her hands. Her short nails were painted dark blue, almost black, and the color made her skin look even paler. She pressed her palms against the table and spread her fingers. "He deserved it," she finally said. "Do you know how many girls he molested before I got him caught? I did what I did to prevent it from happening again, to keep him from hurting any more girls."

She looked up at them, the emotion raw and naked on her face. "When it was just me, the DA was going to accept a plea. A fucking misdemeanor! But then all these girls came forward. They just kept coming. Grown women with daughters of their own. He'd been doing this since he was fifteen. He started with the little ones, the JonBenets. At sixteen I was too old for him, really, but he made an exception." Her smile was bitter. "Like he was doing me a favor."

"No one here is judging you, Olivia," Benson said, gently. "We just need you to understand that there's no detail too small. Nothing is insignificant when looking for a predator like this."

"Do you really think it could be Bill? He doesn't like—women. Just girls."

"If it is him, then it isn't about sex," Rollins said. "He's trying to scare you. Terrorize you."

She considered that with a furrowed brow. "The guy from the pictures. I didn't recognize him."

"It's been eighteen years, like you said. And none of the photos were very clear."

"Or the guy in the pictures could be a coincidence," Benson said. "Someone who saw you taking pictures and decided to follow you around."

"Ugh. So many creepers in this damn city." Olivia propped her elbow on the table and rested her forehead in her hand. "But it might not be Bill," she said. "It could be anyone."

"We're hoping Virginia took a blood sample when he was arrested. We can run it for DNA."

"Would they still have that?"

"Hopefully," Benson said. "With such serious charges…probably. When DNA was in its earliest stages, many law enforcement agencies saved samples for one day."

"Okay, so, Bill Peterson aside," Rollins said, "is there anyone you can think of who might want to do this? An ex-boyfriend? An employee you had to let go?"

"No, not really. Any staff changes at the gallery have been people leaving for other opportunities, not me firing them. Um…boyfriends…no. I try to keep things really casual, and I haven't had a guy react badly to that."

"What about jealousy?" Benson said. "Some men don't like to share."

Olivia shivered as though reminded of something unpleasant. "There was a guy in college…but he moved out west a few years ago. Or so I heard."

"Okay. We're gonna need his name," Rollins said. "And the names of all your male employees, past and present."

"Yeah, of course. I'll have my assistant email that to you as soon as possible." She shifted in her seat, unhappy. "I was going to ask if you really think this is personal, but based on all these questions, you do."

"It would be odd if it weren't," Benson said. "We thought that stealing your underwear and staying for a snack was a form of escalation—the perpetrator getting bolder—but the new evidence points to a personal connection."

"Okay," Olivia said. "That—is really shitty news. But thank you for being so upfront with me."

Benson cleared her throat and cut Rollins a look. "Speaking of," she said, "you should know that Detective Carisi has been removed from the case."

"Ahhh…" Her mouth quirked. "He mentioned that might happen."

"I just want you to know that Detective Carisi's behavior is not standard, and I don't want it to reflect on our squad as a whole."

"Lieutenant Benson, please. We're all adults here. Neither Sonny nor I planned for anything to happen, but it did. When he realized it was more than a one-time thing, he told you about it. He didn't want to create a conflict of interest. I understand that it isn't exactly kosher—to say the least—but what's done is done. I don't blame him, and I sure as hell don't blame you, your squad, or the NYPD."

Rollins kept her mouth shut through this entire exchange. She was still shocked that Fin had been right: Carisi had slept with a vic. The behavior was so out of character that she could barely believe it, and part of her was annoyed Carisi had told Benson before he told her, his partner.

Though probably it was better, because the last thing Rollins needed was another reason for Liv to be pissed at her.

While Rollins woolgathered, the two Olivias were moving past the awkward moment and Benson was thanking her for her time.

"Of course," she said as they stood. "I just wish I could be more help. Please keep me posted if you find anything else."

"We will," Benson said. "Keep your eyes open, and don't hesitate to call us if you see anything the least bit suspicious."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Detective." They shook hands and she left, sliding into her coat and heading for the elevator.

"Keep looking at Bill Peterson," Benson told Rollins. "And check out this ex-boyfriend she mentioned. I doubt our guy's going to stop at a simple break-in."


Olivia stabbed at the elevator call button like it had personally offended her. She was shaking. She yanked her gloves on and shoved her hands into her pockets. Bill Peterson. Bill fucking Peterson.

No way. He'd be nearly fifty now. Surely a fifty-year-old man had better things to do than masturbate all over someone's bed and steal some panties.

The elevator finally opened and she stood aside to let it empty before ducking in. She punched the door close button just as hard as she'd hit the call button, but still she heard someone call for her to hold it.

Her need to be alone warred with the manners her mother had ground into her from an early age. By the time she reached a decision it was too late: a black briefcase slid between the doors and they popped open again.

"Ah. Ms. Gable," Barba said with a tight smile.

Olivia gave him a withering glare. "You," she said.

"Indeed. I." He stepped inside and pushed the button for the first floor as though it weren't already lit up.

She rolled her eyes and took steps across the car to fit herself tightly in the corner. The doors shut again and their descent began. Five floors with the person she least wanted to see on earth.

Maybe the second least, after Bill Peterson.

That thought brought her temper to the surface. "You!" she said again, this time pointing an accusing finger his way.

"I believe we've established that it is, indeed, I."

"Stop being so fucking glib! Smug asshole!"

He blinked. "Am I being smug or glib, Ms. Gable? Make up your mind."

"There are correlations between the two! Don't—"

The doors opened and a few people got on. Olivia was forced to move closer to him, partially because she wasn't finished.

"Don't play ignorant with me," she hissed. "I know you told Benson."

They stopped at the next floor and their company departed. She waited until they were completely alone again until she spun toward him.

"You told her about Bill Peterson!"

He sighed. "Yes, I told her his name. I didn't tell her anything else you said last night. But once I learned about the DNA results, I felt it was worth mentioning. Speaking of!" He spun neatly and frowned down at her. "It would have been nice of you to inform me about your relationship with Detective Carisi."

Color sprang to her cheeks and her full mouth thinned. "Okay, first of all—"

The elevator stopped again and Olivia wondered if this ride from hell would ever end.

"First of all," she whispered over the chatter of the two men who'd just gotten in, "it's none of your goddamn business. Got it? And secondly, there is no relationship."

"There's enough of one that Benson felt it necessary to remove Carisi from your case."

The doors opened and they were finally, finally at the first floor. She headed for the exit without looking back, and Barba was amazed at how much ground she could cover at her height. She was only five-two. Five-five, maybe, in the heels she wore.

He hurried after her, more annoyed than ever, and grabbed her elbow to pull her out of the flow of traffic. "We aren't done here," he snapped.

"Yes we are. Let go of me!"

He did, but she didn't leave. Instead she glared up at him, her chest heaving and her eyes glowing with fury. "You've got some nerve. You recused yourself because of one shitty blind date! Yet you accuse me of having a relationship with Carisi and, what? Keeping it from you!? As if you fucking care!"

"I don't care!" he said, a low growl. "But my mother is under the delusion that you and I are perfect for each other, so it would be nice for her to know that you're seeing someone!"

"For the last time, I'm not seeing Carisi!"

"No? So you're telling me he risked his career over nothing? Over a flight of fancy?" The way he enunciated each word was like a little slap, and it took all her self control not to flinch.

"He didn't risk his career. We had sex, Barba. Several times, several ways, for several hours, on two separate occasions. Hot fucking does not a relationship make," she hissed. "It's none of your business, and as much as I like her, it's none of your mother's business, either!"

He took a deep breath in an attempt to control himself. The images she'd just put in his head weren't ones he needed. At all. And he certainly didn't need to be seen yelling at a victim in the precinct house.

"I'm sorry if you feel betrayed by what I told Benson," he said, the words coming fast and quiet. "It was important information that she needed to do her job and solve your case."

"I don't agree, but regardless, I would have told her."

"Would you? Really? Because obviously you hadn't yet."

"Why the hell are you so fixated on Bill Peterson?"

"Why are you so dismissive of him?" he countered.

"Because it was a long time ago! How would he even find me?"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Ms. Gable. Google?"

"So after eighteen years he's just sitting around one day and thinks 'shucks I never got revenge on that Olivia Gable bitch. Let's see what she's up to.…'? Really?"

He shifted his briefcase from one hand to the other and gently took her arm again, this time to lead her outside. It was too warm in the building to continue fighting with her in there. And they were starting to attract attention.

"You told me your gallery had been written up in the Times, The New Yorker, and New York magazine, among other publications. You also said an artist of your acquaintance was getting an exhibit at MOMA within the month. I assume there's been press about it, and your name has been mentioned."

She took her arm back and blinked at him, astounded. "You—actually heard me say all that?"

"I told you: I'm always listening." He glanced away, picking an imaginary bit of lint off his dark coat and trying to avoid the intensity of her eyes. "Besides, it was all on the gallery's website. My point is all of these articles have been within the last six months, have they not?"

"Y-yes," she said slowly, not liking where he was going with this.

"Okay. So let's say one day Bill Peterson was sitting around feeling bitter about his shitty life when he happened to open the paper and see your name, right there in print, after so many years. Don't you think that could possibly fan certain flames?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "No. That's crazy. There are no flames to fan. And besides, this is all beside the point! You had no right." She shook her head, anger replacing uncertainty. "But that never occurred to you, did it? The great Rafael Barba! You're so fucking arrogant!"

"Maybe so, but that doesn't change anything." He gave a quick, impatient sigh and stepped closer. Lowered his voice even further. "Olivia, I'm not kidding: sleeping with Carisi is a terrible idea. For a million reasons."

"Maybe it is," she said, stepping away and lifting her chin. "But you know what? So was trusting you." With that, she turned in a swirl of skirt and sweet cloud of scent and stalked away, her heels clicking angrily on the hard floor.

He didn't bother following her this time. Like she said, there wasn't any point.


Wow he's so chuffed about her fucking Carisi. Wonder why.