Somewhere in Lower Manhatten, 4:30PM
Nino's wasn't what anyone would call a decent bar, its well-lit, well maintained interior notwithstanding. Prostitutes, low-level drug dealers, and minor organized crime employees frequented its booths and stools. For most respectable citizens it was a place to avoid. To the criminal element, it was a safe place to drink, relax, play darts, and/or conduct business.
He had been sitting at the counter for a half hour nursing a straight scotch when someone tapped him on the shoulder three times. She's here. Elliot turned to face a tall, blond 'prostitute' sporting a long, white faux fur coat.
Parting her garment slightly, she asked: "How about a free sample?"
Hesitating for a few seconds, he replied glumly: "What do I have to lose?" and reached inside, feeling a large envelope.
"You better be scratchin' her itch, pal!" warned the bartender. Discretion was an unspoken rule of the establishment.
Grinning slowly, Elliot sighed and turned to pay his tab. "Yeah, but I guess I'll continue scratching in my car," he replied wearily. Then, as he and his contact departed, he thought: It sure pays to have friends in vice.
Stabler residence, 5:00PM
While Detective Logan updated Kathy in the living room, Captain Cragen made an urgent cell phone call in the kitchen.
"Benson, this is Captain Cragen," he said briskly, "have anyone heard from Elliot?"
"No, sir, we--"
"Listen, Kathy says he left home almost two hours ago, and she has no idea where he is," Cragen quickly cut in, closing his eyes and pressing a hand to his forehead. "If he calls any of you, or if someone calls about him, do whatever it takes to keep him from harming himself or someone else, or jeopardizing his daughter's case! I cannot emphasize that enough! Do you understand?!"
"Yes, sir, I'll pass along the word," Olivia answered confidently.
"Thank you. I'll see you later." He flipped the phone closed and rejoined Logan, now standing alone in the living room.
"Kathy's going upstairs to see if Elizabeth is up to receiving me," he explained. "I think she'll feel better about her--the crime being broadcast on the news if I personally reassured her that her privacy will be respected."
"I think that's a good idea," Don said, troubled and nodding.
"I take it no one's seen Stabler, Don?"
Composing himself, Cragen answered: "People are on the lookout. There's reason to hope."
Meanwhile, back at the 16th Precinct…
With the captain's message passed on, everyone immediately went on to perform the obvious task. Munch grabbed his coat and went up to the roof to alert his confidential resources. Fin discreetly called friends from the narcotics division as well as a few contacts. Olivia phoned both Monique Jeffries, who now worked in Vice, and Sister Peg at her shelter. Then, not unaware of the irony, she contacted both Detective Dani Beck and Dr. Rebecca Hendrix. The latter expressed a great willingness to help.
"If he contacts you, please tell him I'm available to him day or night, for as long as it's needed," she said sincerely. "I'm at home now, but I'll meet with him anywhere--I'll even pick him up at any location he chooses."
"Thanks, Rebecca," Benson said gratefully. "I--the squad really appreciates this."
While Elliot's colleagues worked to locate him, his daughter was receiving some positive news.
"We know who's responsible, and there's a warrant for his immediate arrest," Mike soberly but gently informed the girl curled up on her bed, covers pulled tightly around her.
"You mean he's not been arrested yet?" Elizabeth sounded anxious.
"There's an A.P.B. on him," he responded soothingly. "That means every cop in the city is on the lookout for him. If he hasn't been caught by 6 o' clock tonight, his name, face and description are going on the news. If necessary, there will be another airing at eleven. And don't worry: your name will be kept out it." He paused to see if she understood him.
Elizabeth nodded, sighing. As some stress abated, she ceased gripping the blanket and put her arms loosely around her pillow. "What happens if you don't catch him tonight?"
"Then his face and information will be in tomorrow's newspapers--and again, your name will be kept out of it," Logan said. "OK?"
She nodded again. Then her eyes widened. "Will I have to go down to the station to identify him?!" Her voice was loud with a hint of tears at the end.
"No, no, no," Mike responded quickly, holding up his hands. "We have enough evidence for identification, so you don't have to go down to pick him out of a lineup."
"Good," she said, sighing with relief. Rolling onto her back, she said quietly, almost to herself, "Maybe I'll start to feel just a little better now."
Moved and sympathetic, Mike swallowed hard and mulled over a thought he'd had during the trip to Queens. Should I do this? Is she ready to hear this? If I play it right, it just migh help--but can I do this? Can I actually do this??
"Elizabeth?" he heard himself say softly.
"Yes, Detective Logan?"
"Uh, first, you can call me Mike," he said slowly. "Second, I…I kinda know a little about what you're going through." He put his hands in his pants pockets: he didn't want her to notice when he clenched his fists.
She looked at him agape. "You…somebody…when…?"
"I was twelve when I was molested1," he answered, hanging his head. "I hit the man responsible--he was someone I knew, my family knew--and made sure I was never alone with him again." He then looked directly at her with misty eyes. "But I didn't tell anyone until I was grown. We didn't have cops, or anyone else, tell us what to do about--about molesters2."
There was a long pause. Then she asked: "Are you…all right now?"
He understood what she meant. She wanted to believe that she could go back to life as she had lived it before. She wanted to laugh with her friends and family, worry about her midterms, perform routine chores, challenge her twin brother in video games, contemplate high school, giggly anticipate the last junior high school dance, look forward to the graduation ceremonies. She wanted this become just a distant, bad memory to be left far behind.
I can't tell her that it doesn't work that way. Heck, I can't honestly say that I'm really 'all right'--too many emotional scars, but…
"I've gotten better," he answered honestly. "When I finally told Captain Cragen--yes, that's right; he was once my captain, too--I stopped feeling ashamed."
"Why were you ashamed?" Like me, her tone implied.
"Because that's…a common effect of any sexual abuse," Mike replied carefully. "It's… kinda hard for me to explain. But I can tell you this much: we have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. It's always the abuser's fault. That's something that Captain Cragen drove home to me. And if he were in here now, he'd say the same thing to you."
"Really?" She sounded almost hopeful.
"Yes," he said sincerely.
There was a pause. Then she said: "So, so it helped you a lot? I mean…talking to him?"
"I wish I had done it sooner."
For a few minutes she was pensive. She rolled slowly onto her back and stared at the ceiling, her arms folded across her chest. Finally, she turned her head towards Logan.
"Mike, I…peeked out of my window when you pulled up," Elizabeth said slowly. "I-I know that Captain Cragen is with you…and…can you please ask him to come up?"
Meanwhile, in a Manhatten parking garage…
Why did I get this report?! Why did I read it?! Why?! Why?! Are my cop instincts at work, telling me to go through the motions as if I were working the case?!
Heaving a sigh, Elliot slumped in the driver's seat, absentmindedly turning off the flashlight in his hand. He felt a debilitating blend of outrage (That ruthless, perverted #!!), frustration (Where is that scum; I want to beat and choke the life out of him!!), sorrow (Oh Elizabeth, my poor innocent little girl!), and guilt (Why did I let her go alone? I should have sent Dickie over as well!) Worse of all, he felt completely lost. He had no idea what to do with his excruciating thoughts, and he knew that he wasn't helping his victimized daughter in the process.
"I am a failure," he heard himself say softly, tears streaming down his face. "I really, truly am a failure."
Suddenly, several gentle knocks sound on the passenger window. Turning his head quickly, Elliot recognized the concerned face and felt a mix of relief and embarrassment. But he mentally focused past the latter and unlatched the door, which opened immediately.
"So how did you find me?" he monotoned.
1 Logan revealed this sad fact in Season Three or Four of Law & Order.
2 The detective wanted to use a less socially acceptable word but refrained out of respect and concern for Elizabeth.