"This is so sad," Olivia said as she showed Elliot the last sheet of paper in the stack she'd been reading, "Casey's last email on his computer dated the night before his flight to New York, 'I have a ticket for tomorrow, I'll be at JFK by 6 P.M., I can't wait to get there and meet you in person, I've never been to New York and don't know what to expect, but I know I'll have a great time when we can finally be together'."

"Guy really fell head over heels for this woman," Elliot noted, "it definitely does not sound like an invite to a three-way."

"Assuming Casey was one of the two men at the house that night," Olivia replied.

"Did you find anything off Dahlia's email address?" Elliot asked.

"Yeah," she answered, "Mouse said Casey had minimal contact with two other women on the site before he started talking to Dahlia...but I've been going over her own history on the site, she has made contact with 20 different guys and had extended contact with seven of them, all of them planning to meet at different times and dates."

"She hit any of them up for cash?" Fin asked.

"No, same thing, no mention of money, no gifts, no sexts between them, it's not even part of the conversation," Olivia said.

"Well she's sure going through a lot of guys for a whole lot of nothing," Munch commented. "Why? What's her angle?"

"We've got people looking through Dahlia's finances, no major deposits or withdrawals, and as far as the IRS is concerned she's living well within her means, all her bills are paid off, there's no suspicious banking activity."

"So what the hell is going on?" Voight asked.

"I don't know, but look at this," Olivia said, "she changed her profile pic every few months."

A slideshow ran through on the computer screen of Dahlia Meehan taken at different times of the year with a different look each time. Different clothes, different hairstyle, different hair color, different scenery behind her every time, but clearly the same woman.

"What I believe Huang would call suggestive, but not explicit," Munch said as he pointed to the pictures of the same woman smiling flirtatiously and posing ever so slightly in each picture to accentuate one feature or another. In some photos she wore thin shirts that were practically see-through, in another she wore a skirt with a high slit on the thigh, others she wore a low cut blouse or a halter top and was just slightly bent over.

"That's going to get the attention of any guy with a pulse," Elliot said.

"But it's subtle enough that a lot of guys probably wouldn't take the bait," Olivia responded, "there's nothing here that doesn't suggest she's Little Miss Hometown America, the girl next door, not exactly the go-to for a quick and cheap hookup."

"Which our friend Matt Casey clearly wasn't in the market for, hence why he hit it off with her," Munch noted.

"Yeah, but her appearance isn't all she changed," Olivia said, "every time she changed her picture, she changed her profile. Different job, different city, different likes and dislikes."

"Now that's what I call playing the field," Munch said, "like she was looking for something specific."

"Or hoping something specific would find her," Olivia replied. "I found the profiles of the seven men she agreed to meet with."

The pictures came on the screen, all good looking men in their 30s, all of them white, of various builds, from various states, with various listed interests.

"Oh my God," Elliot said as his eyes doubled in size.

"What?" Olivia asked.

"What is it, detective?" Voight wanted to know.

Elliot pointed to the 2nd and 5th men on the screen, their listed names were Randall Mixon and Terry Daheim, "I know these guys."

"Where?" Voight asked.

"When we were checking with the other four boroughs for any cases matching Casey's attack..." he pointed to them one by one, "Bronx SVU, he was taken to the hospital and they got pictures, but he denied anything happened and he left before a full exam could be done...Brooklyn SVU, he had to get stitches, he agreed to the rape kit just to get the antibiotics but he wouldn't talk to the cops and he never filed a report."

The air in the squadroom became thick and heavy, even though there were the usual noises in the background of phones ringing and people talking, the tension was so thick that a pin could be heard dropping.

"She's meeting men online and setting them up to be raped," Olivia realized in horror, "but why?"

"And by who?" Elliot added.


"So this wasn't personal," Voight said, "Casey was just an opportune victim."

"But we still don't know what her motive is," Olivia said, "the victims weren't robbed, she never solicited anything from them, what does she have to gain from this?"

"Same thing male rapists do," Huang answered as he entered the squad room, "Power."

"Hank Voight, this is our psychiatrist from the FBI, Dr. George Huang," Elliot made the introductions.

"I've heard about you," Voight said as he shook the man's hand.

"And your reputation precedes you, Sergeant," Huang said with a stone face and an unreadable tone.

"Any idea what we're looking at here, doc?" Cragen wanted to know.

"A general impression, Dahlia Meehan was likely a victim of abuse early on in life, given her choice of victims obviously it was by men, maybe someone close to her, maybe a family member or a friend of the family," Huang explained, "Like all rapists, she projects her own past feelings of helplessness onto unsuspecting victims who she can exert control over and make them feel as powerless as she was."

"But Casey was definitely raped by a man," Fin pointed out.

"She doesn't have to have sex with him against his will, she already has the mindset of a rapist, she orchestrates the attacks," Huang told the detectives, "It's no different than somebody plotting a murder and then getting someone else to carry it out, under the law they're both equally guilty, but technically, the mastermind who puts it all in motion shares the bigger half of the liability, without their plans to attack somebody, nothing happens."

"Any idea who she's working with?" Olivia asked.

"It's a stab in the dark without any further information," Huang said, "it could be a boyfriend who shares this rape fantasy with her or it could even be someone from her family. What do we know about her?"

"Still getting to that," Olivia read the printout she had so far, "Dahlia Meehan is 35 years old, she was raised on Staten Island with her parents, she has no siblings but in the extended family she does have three male cousins who are close in age to her."

"So it's possible this whole atrocity is a family affair," Munch suggested.

"It turns out she doesn't own the house we went to, she rents it," Olivia said, "her permanent address is an apartment in Midtown."

"But CSU said Casey was raped in that vacant lot where he was found," Elliot said.

"Doesn't matter, odds are she's holed up in that apartment right now where she thinks nobody can find her," Cragen told them, "get over there and find out what's going on."

"And this time," Voight told the SVU detectives, "I'm coming."


"Police!" Elliot announced as they kicked the apartment door in and charged in with their guns drawn, "Get your hands up where we can see them!"

As they entered the apartment they were instantly met with the image of three very confused individuals, the woman they identified as Dahlia Meehan and two men who also looked to be in their 30s and each were well built and had tanned skin and short dark hair. The three of them moved frantically as they tried to decide whether to try to escape or to comply with the cops holding guns on them.

"Dahlia Meehan," Olivia said as she holstered her gun and took out her handcuffs, "You are under arrest for rape, assault-"

"What's your name?" Elliot asked one of the two men as he jerked the guy's wrists behind him.

"Ow!"

"What's your name!" Elliot repeated as he jerked tighter.

"Derrick, Derrick Fleming."

"Derrick Fleming, you're under arrest for rape, aggravated assault, battery-"

"Name," Voight said simply but firmly as he grabbed the other guy by his collar and got ready to bash his head into the wall.

"Damon Jones."

"Fine, you're under arrest," Voight said as he cuffed the man and hauled him out, "For rape, attempted murder, assault and battery, and anything else I can think of, I'm a cop," he stopped long enough to hit the man in the back of the head to make his point as he added, "I can do it. You have the right to remain silent, which will not help you, you have the right to an attorney, who also will not be able to help you..."


"So exactly who are these two boneheads?" Cragen asked as he looked at the two men being held in separate interrogation rooms.

"Dahlia Meehan's boyfriends," Olivia said disgustedly.

Cragen did a slow double take, "Excuse me? As in plural?"

"These two geniuses seem to have the combined IQ of a lima bean," Munch explained, "So we're letting Huang take a crack at them first to get some idea what we're dealing with."

"And the ringleader Meehan?" Cragen asked.

"Hasn't lawyered up, but also not talking," Olivia said.

"I can fix that in five minutes," Voight offered.

"I'm sure you can but we don't need another lawsuit against this department," Cragen told the Chicago cop.

"I didn't do anything," Voight insisted nonchalantly.

"So, who breaks the news to Casey that we've got her?" Olivia asked.

"It's going to be hard for him to take as it is," Hank said, "I'll tell him." He took his phone out of his pocket and headed out of the room to make the call.

"We're still back to the original problem," Cragen told his detectives, "Nobody's going to press charges, nobody's going to testify, and I'm not seeing Casey carrying this whole thing alone."

Voight doubled back to the squad room and told everybody, "Casey's gone."

"What?" Olivia asked.

"He left Bellevue three hours ago," Hank answered.

Everybody was looking at one another as they grasped at what this meant.

"They could be anywhere by now," Elliot said.

"Either they hopped the first plane heading back to Chicago," Olivia said.

"Or they went back to the hotel," Voight added, "We'll check there first. Come on!"


Hank, Olivia and Elliot made their way up the stairs to the second floor of the hotel after they'd gotten the room number from the front desk and the man working there verified Casey and Severide had come in about three hours earlier. As they approached the room, they noticed the door was ajar and drew their guns.

"Matt? Kelly?" Olivia called out.

"In here," was Kelly's muffled response.

Olivia pushed the door open and the three cops cautiously entered and looked around. Right away they didn't see anyone, but the room was a mess, furniture had been turned over, the top covers were missing from the bed.

"Kelly? Are you guys okay?" Olivia asked.

After a small pause there was a hesitant answer, "I am."

That got their attention and they moved into the bathroom, where they found Kelly half sprawled on the floor and half propped against the wall, and he had his arms wrapped around Casey, who for some reason was wrapped up in the comforter from the bed, he had his head resting against Kelly's shoulder and seemed to be barely conscious, though every breath he took emitted a small sob from his throat.

"What happened?" Olivia asked as they holstered their guns and assessed the situation.

"He got upset and became frantic...I was worried he'd hurt himself," Kelly lethargically answered, as if whatever had taken place in this room had drained all the strength out of him, "It was the only thing I could think of..."

"Why'd you leave the hospital?" Elliot asked as he and Voight slowly worked at unraveling the blanket to get a look at Casey and check him over for any injuries.

"Casey woke up a few hours ago, he didn't want to stay, the doctor cleared him, so we decided to come back here," Kelly answered as they pulled the blonde lieutenant off of him, he pressed his back tighter against the wall to sit up straighter as he explained, "He said he was going to take a shower...he didn't come out..I came in to make sure he was okay and found him on the floor..."

Casey softly moaned and weakly struggled against the two men who were touching him, but he also didn't seem to possess the energy or strength to truly fight anymore.

Kelly told Olivia, who crouched down beside him, "He ran out of the room and started hitting everything, screaming...kept saying he was an idiot, he was stupid...I didn't know what was happening so I grabbed the bedspread and I tackled him...somehow we wound up back in here...he finally told me, everything..." he shook his head, "I don't even remember how long ago that was."

"Are you hurt?" Olivia asked.

Kelly seemed a bit dazed but he shook his head, "Nah...I'm fine." With a grunt, he slowly got to his feet. "But what about Casey?"

"No sign of any injuries," Elliot concluded, "but we should probably get a bus here to look at him anyway."

"You can't take him back to the hospital," Kelly said, "he hated it there."

"Whoa, hold up," Olivia said as she spotted something. She hooked the tip of her finger under the collar of Kelly's T-shirt and pulled it down to reveal a large bruise just under Kelly's collarbone. With the light from the bathroom she saw more bruises that traveled down his body.

"Casey did that to you?" she asked in disbelief.

"Last night when they called 911," Kelly answered, and was adamant, "it was an accident, he didn't know what he was doing."

Olivia nodded, "I know."

Their conversation was broken up by the sound of Elliot and Voight pulling Casey to his feet. The blonde lieutenant looked like the bones in his body had turned to jelly and Olivia half expected him to fall right back down, but somehow he stayed on his feet, for a few seconds anyway before he collapsed on the edge of the tub.

In a low voice Kelly confided in Olivia, "I don't know what to do, I've never seen him like this. Casey's not the kind of guy who runs from anything, he always meets the threat head-on."

"Yeah," Voight spoke up from the other side of the room and pointed to himself, "Look at me."

"This is different, Kelly," Olivia told him.

He looked at her and somberly nodded, "I know...but I don't know how to help him."

A sound cut through the room that had all of them looking around, trying to identify it. The second time they realized it was coming from Matt Casey himself. The Truck lieutenant looked down at the floor as one knee started shaking, and a series of incoherent sounds escaped him before he started crying and dropped his head to his chest.

Kelly moved to go to him but Olivia grabbed him to get his attention.

Voight slowly walked over to the tub and looked at Casey, then sat down on the edge beside him and put an arm around the younger man's shoulders and calmly told him, "It's alright, Matt, it's over, we got them."


"I can't do this."

It took a long time for Casey to finally calm down, and longer still before he got his voice back instead of every breath coming back out as a sob before a word could form. Outside it was starting to get dark, everybody stood around the hotel room waiting to see what he was going to do.

"I can't go through with this," Casey told them. "I can't go to court, I won't testify, I can't do it, I won't, I'm sorry, I just can't."

Kelly had seen this coming, so he didn't feel too surprised, but he couldn't tell whether he was the only one who felt that way or not.

"Matt," Olivia broke the awkward silence, "You didn't do anything wrong-"

"I know that," he snapped at her. After a few seconds he added in a more normal tone, "But I'm not going to have what happened to me, and my whole private life drudged up in front of a jury, be made a matter of public record for anybody to read through."

"There are other victims, Matt."

"And are any of them going to testify?" he asked. He shook his head, already knowing the answer. "You know what? They win," he laughed once, darkly, no humor to it whatsoever, "They win...they win, I lose, I go back to Chicago and I die alone...and they..." he squeezed his eyes shut and his face twisted into a sardonic smile as he looked at them again and forced himself to continue through the tears building in his eyes and audible in his throat, "they get to walk away Scot-free, I don't care..."

"Casey," Kelly reached a hand out to grip his friend's arm, but Casey stepped back just out of his reach.

"I don't care," Matt weakly repeated, "I just want to go home, I want to get out of here...I wish I'd never come."

Olivia and Elliot looked at each other and considered their options. Olivia turned and exchanged a glance with Voight as well, who stood back and said nothing, just waited to see what card they played.

"Matt," Elliot cleared his throat, "under the law we can hold them for 24 hours before we have to charge them."

"I'm not pressing charges," the firefighter told them.

"You may not have to," Olivia said. "While we're holding them we can dig further into their past and see if there are any other crimes that we can charge them with, if so, we still get them off the street and you don't have to give a statement...sound fair enough?"

"You don't need me for that then," Casey said, "then I can leave."

"Actually, we need you to stay here until the 24 hours is up just to make sure," Elliot told him. "The clock's ticking, nobody at our squad's going home tonight, we're going to dig through their whole life history to find something we can nail them with, Voight, you in?"

"Hell yeah," Hank answered in a mostly nonchalant tone. He turned to the dark haired lieutenant and told him, "Severide, you stay with Casey until you hear from me."

Kelly nodded in response.

Casey reached over and grabbed Kelly's arm and half whispered in his ear, "Kelly, please, I don't want to stay here."

Kelly saw the cops leaving and he turned and murmured to Casey, "Wait here, I'll be right back." He followed them out of the room and met them in the hall.

"Don't charge them, just let the bastards go and give me five minutes with them," Kelly told them.

"See that?" Voight asked, "That's why Casey didn't tell you in the first place."

"But he did tell me," Kelly replied, "he told me everything...that bitch, she watched."

"What?" Olivia asked.

Kelly's face looked like he wanted to strangle somebody, he stared them dead in the eyes and told them, "She wanted to go for a walk, so they did, and when they got to that lot the two sons of bitches jumped him, and she just stood there watching while they raped him...she told them to do it." The desperation was plain in his eyes as he begged the detectives, "Please...tell me she's not going to get away with this."