Disclaimer: SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. I own nothing.
"Who was it?" Munch questioned again, impatient now.
The Captain, Ryan, and Elliot all answered simultaneously.
"Gordon Rickett"
Elliot didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to hit something again, as he had with the lockers earlier. Gordon Rickett. He had a history with the man, that's for sure.
Back when he'd first started on the force, he'd arrested Rickett for suspicion of rape and murder. Unfortunately, there hadn't been enough evidence, and the man had been let go. Then, just last year, he'd been a suspect once again. It was a grueling interrogation.
Everyone knew he was guilty, but once again, they didn't have the evidence to prove it. They'd released him, hoping he would fall back into his old habits. And he did. He kidnapped a young girl. By following the leads, they'd found him before any harm could be done to her. During the subsequent arrest, he had been shot in the shoulder when he'd refused to release his captive.
In fact, it was Olivia who had taken the shot, because she'd feared Elliot would have killed the man. She didn't do it out of concern for Gordon, but to spare Elliot's conscience. Despite the rage that her partner felt toward the criminal, she knew he would never forgive himself if he killed someone out of anger. So she fired her weapon first, saving not only the girl, but her partner as well.
The men in the squad room were all staring at one another. No one had spoken, but it was clear they were all thinking the same thing. Everyone was aware of Rickett's bad blood with Elliot – that went back to his very first arrest. But since she was the one who shot him, he likely held a grudge against Olivia now, too. That made the situation she was in all the more dangerous.
Captain Cragen was the first to speak. While he knew he should try to lead his detectives, and speak words of encouragement, he was in need of some himself. Turning to Dr. Huang, he asked a question. He just wasn't entirely sure he was ready for the answer.
"You're familiar with Rickett and his tendencies. Tell us, Doc, what does this mean for Olivia?"
George pondered the question carefully. This was something he had already been thinking about. From everything he had already studied – the note, the photographs, even the evidence left behind at the warehouse, it was clear that Elliot was the primary target. Olivia was just a means of reaching the goal of torturing the man. Now, his thoughts had changed.
"It was clear from the beginning that this was an act of revenge. I had thought initially, it was just against you, Elliot. Now that we know who the perpetrator is, it seems he has motive against Olivia as well."
Everyone in the squad room, including Reuben and Ryan, listened as the doctor continued to explain. He went on to say that Rickett had likely observed the close relationship between the partners during his interrogation. While he could have easily chosen a member of Elliot's family to exact his revenge, he likely chose Olivia for a two-fold purpose.
Given how close he was to Olivia, Elliot would be worried about her safety. As demonstrated this morning by the layout of her personal items, and the lone photo left behind, Rickett was planning on inflicting a great deal of psychological torture. However, given that Olivia was the one who shot him, it might make her more prone to harm.
There was one piece of information that allowed everyone to breathe just a little bit easier. Given his profile, Huang did not think that Rickett's intent would be to rape Olivia. Yes, he did believe the man was responsible for the rape and murder of the four victims that had been found the previous day. However, he felt that was just part of some grand scheme to get Elliot involved with the case.
Elliot had had enough. He couldn't listen anymore. The 'what-ifs' were driving him crazy. He needed to know answers concretely. With his frustration at peak levels, his anger was barely being kept in check. How could he not have considered Gordon Rickett a suspect? The hair in pigtails was a signature of his. Why had he taken for granted that the man was in prison? Resisting the urge to sweep everything off his desk in one violent motion, he turned to face the doctor.
"Yes or no, doc. Will Rickett make contact? Or is he just going to leave me twisting in the wind, wondering what the hell he is doing to my partner?"
Elliot's voice had risen to a shout. Despite this, no one in the room so much as flinched. They had all expected this reaction from the man. In fact, they were surprised he had stayed calm for as long as he did. Only George had been privy to his earlier outburst in the locker room.
"Yes, Elliot. He will make contact. My guess would be sometime tomorrow morning."
Swiping one hand down his face, Elliot exhaled sharply. Tomorrow morning? Why wait so long? What purpose could that possibly serve?
He knew all of the answers to his own questions before he could even put voice to them. Rickett was waiting simply because he could. The longer he waited, the more Elliot would worry. The more time that passed, is more time spent wondering just what Olivia was going through. Especially to a man who works these kinds of cases for living. A man who knows how important time is when it comes to finding a missing person.
The men talked for a few minutes more. Then Reuben and Ryan left. Both promised to stay in touch with any new information. They were also working on the case around the clock. However, to ensure that they were in top form, each of them were going to catch a few hours of sleep, then get right back to work.
Cragen tried to encourage Elliot to go up to the cribs to sleep, but the detective insisted he couldn't. Not just yet. The news of who their perp was had him rattled. Plus he was still keyed up from that last cup of coffee. At the reproachful look his Captain gave him, he promised the man that he would get some rest soon, though. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was just after ten.
Since Elliot wasn't going to rest, Munch asked if he could take the first shift. No one argued with the man. He started to head for the stairs, but made everyone promise that they would wake him if there were any developments. He also asked for someone to come and wake him in three hours.
After Munch had left, Cragen announced that he, too, was going to catch a few hours of rest in his office. Like the elder detective, he wanted woken immediately if there was anything new to report in the case. He also strongly advised Huang, Fin, and Elliot that they were to take their turns at some point, too. Sleep may be in short supply, but everyone was to at least try. It didn't need saying that it is what Olivia would want. For everyone to take care of themselves.
Elliot still made no moves to sit back down at his desk. After conferring briefly with Fin, he moved to turn off some of the harsh overhead lights. They still needed some to continue their work, but too many of them were contributing to his headache. He needed to be able to focus.
His next step was to go to Olivia's desk. Knowing she wouldn't mind, he checked the drawers until he found what he was looking for – aspirin. Shaking two tablets into his palm, he replaced the bottle and headed for the break room to purchase a bottled water. There would be no more coffee for him tonight.
Elliot returned to the squad room, hoping the medicine he had taken would work quickly. Part of him felt bad about taking it. He knew that if Olivia were in pain right now, no one was giving her anything to ease it. But he also knew he had to take care of himself, so he remained in top form. He owed that to his partner.
Sitting back in his chair, he rolled up to the desk. He cleared his computer screen, as there was no longer any need to keep going through the database of names. Instead, he began accessing all available information he could find on Gordon Rickett.
The house he had used for his previous crimes, where they had arrested him the year prior, had been sold. In all actuality, it had been demolished. A new residence now stood on the same property. The realty company who had bought the original house felt that, with its history, it wouldn't be a good sale.
Elliot brushed that to the side. He also made a mental note to contact the prison tomorrow. Anything they could tell him about Rickett's life on the inside would be very beneficial. Maybe he could even ask George to help. The psychiatrist's insight would certainly be appreciated.
A faint beeping noise caught his attention. It was coming from his cell phone. At first, he thought it was an incoming message. Then, he realized it was just alerting him to a low battery. Pulling a spare charging cord out of his desk drawer, he plugged it into the power strip at his feet.
It was imperative that he keep his phone charged at all times. He didn't know what method of contact Rickett was going to use, and the last thing he wanted was to miss a call. Heaven forbid if that were to happen, and the man were to somehow punish Olivia for it. He'd never forgive himself. He was already feeling guilty enough that she was missing.
Coming to a dead end with his computer search, he refocused his attention on the pictures from this afternoon. The thing that bothered him the most was that Olivia's handcuffs were left behind. That meant Rickett must have brought some type of restraint with him. He thought of the day before, and all the trash bags they had found at the various crime scenes.
He tried not to let his mind focus on the fact that there were condoms present. Instead he thought about the other items. Each bag also contained gloves, duct tape, and rope. The gloves easily explained the pattern they had found on each of the women's throats.
Picking up one of the photos, he studied them again. While the woman may have been restrained with either the tape or the rope at some point, that didn't match up with the ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. No, the marks were too thin. Even handcuffs wouldn't account for that type of bruising. Elliot racked his brain trying to think of what could cause that type of mark.
Zip Ties.
He could see it now in his mind's eye, the bendable pieces of plastic wrapped harshly around the vulnerable skin. Pulled so tight that it would not only leave a mark, but also cut off circulation. The extremities would grow numb, making it harder for whomever was tied up to fight back.
Despite his every effort to not go down that road, his mind traveled there anyway. He tried to look at the next photo, but instead, all he could see was Olivia. His brain seemed to superimpose her face over the image of the victim.
It became his partner he saw, eyes open, staring at nothing. Hand prints around her throat, where someone had squeezed the very breath from her body. Shaking his head, he blinked rapidly. The distorted image in front of him returned to normal once more.
Putting the photographs of the victims to the side, he then studied the ones taken in the warehouse earlier today. Even now, hours later, seeing the baseball bat troubled him. While they'd not found any blood on it, there were no fingerprints either. Whomever had held it must have been wearing gloves. That didn't matter, because thanks to the blood samples, they knew who had taken Olivia.
It didn't matter to him that they'd found no traces of blood on the bat. He still knew, instinctively, that she'd been hit with it. Maybe even more than once. He tried to imagine the scene in his mind as it could have played out.
Rickett would have tried to sneak up behind Olivia. That much was for certain. Upon hearing any type of noise behind her, she'd have spun around, shining her flashlight in that direction. However, she wouldn't have drawn her weapon. Especially in light of their argument. Despite the words he'd hurled at her in anger, she'd have suspected he was checking up on her, doubting her capabilities.
As soon as she would have turned, Rickett would have slammed the bat down on her wrists. His intent would have been to disarm, as he wouldn't have known if she'd have had her gun.
The next blow would likely have been to the rib cage. Besides causing extreme pain, it would serve a dual purpose of knocking the wind out of her. When she doubled over, gasping for breath, a third strike to her back would have knocked her to the ground.
He shook his head. There was no way of knowing if his theory was correct. But his gut told him he was. Just like he knew that at some point she had fought back. She had fought back until the moment she had been injected with whatever was in that syringe. She had made Rickett bleed.
Elliot suspected she had used the palm strike that she was so fond of. She even taught that move to survivors of assault, to give them a sense of control over their lives.
What bothered him the most was that in all that she was going through, she never once called out. The pain she must have endured. He dropped his head into his hands. He hoped and prayed that she wasn't suffering now. That Gordon wasn't continually torturing her. As it had earlier, the words from the note he'd gotten the night before kept coming back to him.
"Unlike the others, she will suffer. And it will be all your fault"
Trying to pull himself from his thoughts, he glanced briefly at his watch. It was now nearing one in the morning. The Captain and Munch would both be up soon. Then, he and Fin would take their turns at getting some rest. Elliot didn't know how he'd possibly be able to sleep, but he was going to try. He'd do whatever it took to remain on this case.
Gordon Rickett sat in the main room of the house he had rented. He knew no one would ever think to look for him here. Plus, he wouldn't be staying here for very long. Once his plan was set in motion, he would move the bitch to a different location.
He was a bit angry with himself, though. It hadn't been his intention to use the paralytic on her so soon. He had such a short supply of the drug. It was very important that he save a dose of it for the final part of his plan.
The last thing he'd expected was for the detective to strike out the way she had. He'd underestimated her, that was for certain. He wouldn't make that mistake again. She must be kept bound at all times.
Looking at the clock, he realized that soon he would have to give her some more water. When he'd only given her a small amount earlier today, that had been part of his plan. To torment her. In reality, he figured he could let her have a whole bottle of water a day.
That amount was still well below the amount of water doctors suggest you drink daily for optimum health. However, it would ensure she wouldn't dehydrate. He still hadn't decided whether or not he would give her food. He was leaning toward no, but wanted to do more research on how fast a person could starve to death. Everything must go according to plan, otherwise his revenge against Detective Stabler would not be complete.
As he thought about the woman he was holding captive, anger consumed him. Twice now, she'd gotten the better of him. He'd thought for certain she'd broken his nose earlier today in the warehouse. It had taken awhile for the bleeding to stop. The swelling had yet to go down.
That didn't compare to the tenderness he still felt in his groin. She'd gotten him there not just once, but three times. Once in the warehouse, and twice just a few hours ago when she'd tried to escape. That had been partly why he'd gotten so furious with her, and used the paralytic versus another sedative. He wanted to instill a little bit of fear in her.
It hadn't worked though. Any fear that might have been in her eyes was only fleeting at best. The only expression he was able to read on her face was one of anger and defiance. He remembered the moment he'd held the gun to her head in the warehouse. She hadn't even reacted with fear then. She'd frozen, but that seemed to be driven from a career taught skill. If he'd not had the sedative, its doubtful his plan would have worked out the way it did.
He was startled from his thoughts when the phone rang. It wasn't the land-line. No one had that number. He was keeping that strictly for when he made a certain call to Stabler. No, this call was coming to his burner phone.
"Hello."
"It's me, Matt. I was able to get what you need. I'll be over on Thursday to help you finish the plan."
As quickly as the phone had rung, the call ended. Gordon was left alone with his thoughts once more.
Matthew Adams was a former cell mate from prison. Not the one who had taught him about computers though, this was someone different. Matt wasn't with him in prison long, though. The charges against him had been dropped due to lack of evidence. However, they'd kept in touch.
After his arrest, Matt had been fired from his old job. He'd worked as a nurse in a hospital. When he'd been accused of behaving inappropriately with female patients, his job was terminated immediately. Now the only job he could get that was remotely involved with the medical field was at a local blood bank.
Matt had his own grudge against Benson and Stabler, as they were the arresting officers in his case. He blamed them for his having been fired. It didn't matter that he was actually guilty of the crimes he had been accused of.
When he'd told Matt of his plans, his new friend immediately wanted to help. For a price, of course. Rickett was about to turn him down, until he learned where the man had been working since his release.
Matt worked at the blood bank. The very same one that Olivia Benson frequented to make her donations. She never saw him though, because he made it a point to always go on break when he saw that she had signed in. The woman had no clue that a former suspect she had arrested worked there.
This had allowed Gordon and Matt to cook up the perfect scheme. None of Olivia's blood ever made it to the donation log. Matt had taken every bag. He kept it in his refrigerator, just waiting for the perfect time. Prior to Monday, they'd had three bags. Now they had four. It was almost time to set the plan in motion.
Gordon smiled to himself as he thought about the events of the past few days. It had been Matt, not he, who had raped and strangled those women. What the other man didn't realize was he had video evidence of everything. Should his new 'friend' attempt to double-cross him, he'd go down too.
In fact, he thinks he will get his friend in trouble anyway. He has a box with all the evidence in it. Perhaps he will send it to the police before his grand finale later this week. He hasn't made any attempt to fool himself. He knows, that after what he plans to do, there isn't any way he is getting out of this alive. He doesn't care. Just as long as Detective Benson doesn't survive either.
Olivia lay on the bed. Her arms and legs were tingling. She knew it was because whatever drug she had been given that had paralyzed her was wearing off. Part of her was feeling frustrated and hopeless, but she wouldn't allow herself to cry. It would serve no point. Plus, she knew without question that her squad was looking for her. That they would find her.
She was also reeling from the revelation of just who her captor was. Gordon Rickett. They hadn't even received a notification that he'd been released from prison. Had something gone wrong with the court system again? Was there another technicality that had allowed him to go free?
With a realization that caused her to grow ill, she realized the truth. No. It was nothing like what she'd imagined. This man had escaped. He had nothing to lose, nothing to fear. That made him even more dangerous. She began to wonder now just what his intentions were.
Was it just to torture Elliot? If that were the case, why take her? Why not a member of Elliot's family? She berated herself for even thinking that way. Despite her current predicament, she was immensely relieved that it was her who had been taken.
She had no one. No one to miss her, no one to mourn her. If things ended badly, she could die with a clear conscience knowing that Elliot's family had been spared. Would her partner even care about what happened to her now? She knew that Fin, Munch, and the Captain would. So would Huang and Melinda. Even Reuben and Ryan would care.
Eventually though, they would all go back to their daily routines. It would be as if she had never existed in the first place. At least, that was what she told herself. At one point, she would have said that Elliot would have cared if she were killed. But now, after their fight yesterday...she couldn't say she was sure. He had sounded so final.
The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. She turned her head toward the door. Gordon stepped into the room. He hadn't bothered to put the mask back on. What would have been the point? She'd already seen him. This only enforced her thoughts that she wasn't meant to survive this ordeal. In her experience, captors only revealed their faces when they didn't intend to leave any witnesses alive.
He moved closer to the bed, still not speaking. She studied his face. So intent was she in her earlier attempt to escape, she had missed the bruising that was present. His nose was misshapen and swollen. She wouldn't go so far to say she had broken it, but it definitely would have caused him a great deal of pain. Good. With luck, she had caused it to bleed, too. Maybe even left some evidence behind so that her squad would be able to identify him.
Gordon stopped by the side of the bed now. It was clear he was trying to figure out what to say to her. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the same knife he'd had earlier. Waving it in her direction, he spoke.
"I'm going to untie you so you can use the bathroom again. If you even think about trying what you did before, I'll slit your throat. Understand me?"
She nodded. She didn't trust her voice. Now was definitely not the time to test the man. He meant what he said. If she was going to get out of this alive, she had to wait for the right moment. This was not it.
Gordon cut through the ties anchoring her wrists to the bed first. However, he left her wrists bound together. Next, he moved toward her feet. Those, he cut both the ties that held her to the bed, as well as the ones that joined her ankles. Olivia figured that made sense, as she couldn't exactly walk any other way.
Once her legs were free, he pulled her to a sitting position, then to her feet. With the drugs still swirling in her system, she swayed slightly. It almost felt as though she were drunk. He stood behind her, and the knife was held at her throat.
"Now, walk."
She obeyed the instruction she was given. He followed along behind her, leading her to the bathroom once more. Once there, he spun her around. The knife flicked out again, cutting at the bindings to her wrists. He shoved her through the door, this time giving her a three minute warning.
She had no sooner finished washing her hands when the door opened again. This time, she had not tempted fate, and chanced drinking water. Even though she was so very thirsty. She couldn't risk the possible punishment.
"Hold out your hands"
She did as she was told. He reached into his pocket, removing another zip tie. She realized he was going to bind her wrists here. He wasn't going to risk another escape attempt on her part. While the cable was pulled tightly, it didn't seem to be as harsh as before. Either that, or her hands were still so numb, she couldn't really tell.
After she was restrained again, he took his position behind her. The knife was back at her throat, the blade glancing off her skin. She followed his lead, and walked when he nudged her. He led her back to the bed, and she sat down when she was told.
"I'm trusting you. If you so much as even move an inch by the time I get back, you're dead."
Olivia said nothing. She didn't even nod as way to acknowledge her response. She just sat there, motionless. It typically wasn't in her nature to be like this, but for now, she was going to obey instructions.
Part of her hoped that he was going to get her a drink.
Her wish came true. Moments later, Gordon reappeared in the room. He carried with him a bottle of water. Like before, this one was also factory sealed. He uncapped it, and held it out to her.
Though it was awkward for her to hold, given the way her hands were bound, she was able to manage. She brought the bottle to her lips, and took a drink. Unlike the way she had earlier, she didn't guzzle it. She sipped the water, savoring the taste. She had drunk about one third of it when it was taken away from her. Gordon put the cap back on it, and set it on the chair she had been sitting in when she first awoke. He then moved the chair toward the head of the bed.
"I'm going to set it here if you want a drink later."
Olivia was puzzled by this action. This was something new. Her facial expression must have given her away, because her captor explained to her his reasoning.
"If you behave, and don't try to escape, I'll give you one bottle of water a day. How you ration it out is up to you."
Despite the fact that it made her ill to thank this man for anything, she heard herself utter the words. The last thing she wanted was any comfort – however small – to be taken away. For right now, she had water, and she had access to a bathroom. It wasn't luxury accommodations by any means, but it would help her survive.
"Lie back."
Again, she did as she was told. Was he going to tie her to the headboard again? She waited for him to harshly grab her arms and pull them above her head. Instead, he walked away for a moment, and returned with a lightweight blanket.
"You can use this if you get cold. I'm going against my better judgment, and just leaving your hands bound for now. If you try anything, you'll be tied up like before."
With that, he turned to leave. He turned out the light on his way out, plunging the room into darkness. The last thing she heard was the sound of a key turning, and she knew he had locked her in. She was trapped. There would be no escape attempt tonight. Turning on her side, she closed her eyes. She would try and get some rest. She was going to need her energy for whatever awaited her tomorrow.
Elliot stirred in his sleep. Someone was calling his name. In his dreams, it was Olivia. No matter where he searched, he couldn't find her. Doors would open to empty rooms. He'd hear a lone gunshot echo over and over – only to rush into that area of the warehouse to find her gone, and blood staining the floor.
Someone called out to him again. And again. He opened his eyes, and it took him a moment to realize where he was. Looking toward the door of the cribs, he saw Fin standing there. This puzzled him, as the man was supposed to be resting at the same time he was.
Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he looked at his watch. When he saw what time it was, he glared at his coworker. Fin, who had been anticipating such a reaction, held his palms up in a defensive gesture.
Before Elliot could say anything, it was Fin who spoke first. He knew how angry the other man was. Frankly, he didn't blame him. It hadn't been his idea to let Elliot sleep so long. Even though he had agreed that it was necessary.
"Calm down, man."
Elliot swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. Stalking over to where Fin was, he got right in the man's face. He wasn't afraid of making his anger known. How could they do this to him?
"Calm down? You let me sleep for six hours, while Olivia is missing, and you want me to calm down?"
Fin didn't react to his colleague's anger. He had expected this reaction. While he and Elliot didn't always get along, he felt in this case, he was justified in his response.
"This wasn't my doing, Elliot. It was on the orders of Dr. Huang, and the Cap."
He paused for a moment, to let the words sink in. Then he added to it.
"We haven't heard anything. I promise you, if we had, someone would have come to get you."
Elliot could still feel the tension rolling off his body in waves. But the anger was starting to dissipate. He knew their intentions were coming from a good place. And truth be told, he did feel rested. He moved toward his locker, and grabbed a few items out of it.
"Tell Cragen I'll be down in a few minutes. I'm going to grab a quick shower."
Fin nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Elliot gathered his towel and the other items he'd removed from his locker, and went into the bathroom.
He showered quickly, not bothering to enjoy the feel of the hot spray as it hit his sore muscles. Sleeping in the cribs always seemed to leave an ache in the body. The beds definitely weren't designed for comfort.
But that didn't matter now. This shower wasn't for pleasure. It was perfunctory. To wake himself up, and get clean for the day. He rinsed off the last of the soap, and quickly toweled off. Wrapping it around his waist, he walked back out to his locker.
Rather than putting on a suit and tie, he opted for a casual look today. He knew the Captain wouldn't mind. Most likely, he'd be at the precinct all day waiting for a phone call. Or going over evidence from the past couple of days.
Once he was dressed in jeans and a polo, he slipped on a pair of sneakers. A final glance at his watch told him he'd spent a grand total of ten minutes getting ready. He headed down the steps to the squad room. Though he'd sworn it off last night, he was badly in need of a cup of coffee this morning.
He reached the squad room floor, and his first stop was his desk to retrieve his mug. Then he headed for the coffeepot. Pouring himself a cup of the strong brew, he left it black. He drank it down in four quick gulps, paying no attention to the taste. Then he poured a second cup. This one he fixed with cream and sugar, then carried back to his desk.
Elliot made no attempt to speak to Huang or the Captain. He'd thought it over while in the shower, and decided to just let the anger go. Instead, he planned to say something to Fin later on. The man hadn't deserved the outburst he'd laid on him.
He turned on his computer, and entered his log in information. As he waited for the system to start up, he attention was drawn to a delivery person entering the room. They were carrying a large box filled with food. Had someone ordered something? Getting up from his chair, he went to greet them.
"Can I help you?"
The delivery person, whose hands were full, set the box on the nearest desk. It just happened to be Olivia's. Then he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket.
"Delivery for Manhattan SVU."
Elliot was really curious now. So were the other members. The Captain had come out of his office, along with George. Fin and Munch had also crowded around the desk. They were all looking at the box with a state of wonder. Then they looked at one another. Everyone took turns shaking their heads. No one was admitting to ordering the food.
Though the smells were already making his mouth start to water, Elliot knew it would have to be sent back. It must be a mistake. Perhaps someone on another floor had ordered it. Then the delivery man spoke up.
"You don't owe anything gentlemen. This is already paid for."
"But who sent it to us?"
The question came from the Captain, the first of the men who found the ability to speak. As he turned to leave, the man looked at the slip again, and provided them with the name of their benefactor.
"It says here it was ordered by one Kathy Stabler."
With that said, he started to leave. He even refused to accept a tip from any of the men, stating that it had already been taken of. He wished them good day, then excused himself.
Fin and Munch went to work unpacking the food. A fruit salad was packed in a large bowl, and even included small cups to divide into individual servings. There was a tray full of pastries. At the bottom was a selection of breakfast sandwiches. They had even thought to provide utensils and napkins.
Elliot didn't move to help himself to the food right away. His first thought was of Kathy. Despite everything they had gone through yesterday, she was still being generous enough to take care of him. Not just him – the squad as a whole. He had no doubt that she knew they would be devoting all their time and energy into finding Olivia. The fact that she cared enough to make sure they ate breakfast meant a lot. He made a note to call her a little later, and thank her personally.
The men helped themselves to a sandwich and a pastry apiece, along with a cup of fruit. Then they settled at their respective desks. It went without saying that they would work as they ate. While they were all still taking care of their own needs, the primary goal was still to find Olivia.
Gordon woke up, angry with himself for having slept so long. He relaxed momentarily when he realized that Detective Benson would still be where he left her. He'd locked her in, and the room where he was keeping her had no windows.
He dressed in a hurry. Then he went to the kitchen and made himself something to eat. Just because he wasn't planning on feeding that bitch, didn't mean he was going to deny himself food. Hell, he thought he was being generous enough giving her one bottle of water a day. He'd even given her a blanket last night while she slept.
Shaking those thoughts from his head, he focused on the game plan for today. He had a phone call to make. He'd have to be sure to use the burner phone, so it couldn't be traced. It was too soon for that.
He finished the last of his breakfast, and put the plate in the sink. Washing his hands, he dried them on a dish towel. Then he moved into the other room, and pulled on a pair of gloves. It was very important that he not transfer any fingerprints to what he was about to touch.
Gathering a large envelope, he first placed inside the ponytail he had cut from her head yesterday. He also picked up the Polaroid he'd taken of her after he'd injected her with the paralytic. Looking at it now, he realized the photo had turned out even better than he could have hoped.
She'd already been bound with the zip ties at this point, and secured to the bed. A piece of tape was covering her mouth. Thanks to the drug he'd given her, her eyes were open and unfocused. It was the perfect photo to torture Elliot Stabler with.
Adding it to the package, he pulled the strip off the back, and sealed the envelope. He'd made certain to get the kind with adhesive backing. No way was he going to make a mistake, and lick an envelope. That would provide the police with his DNA, alerting them to his identity too soon. He still worried that he'd possibly left something behind the day before.
He calmed himself with the knowledge that even if they found out who he was, they'd never guess his location. Not in a million years. Plus maybe it would be to his benefit if Stabler knew exactly who had taken his partner. The detective was aware of his history. Would know exactly what he'd be capable of. It made the revenge that much sweeter.
His next stop was the bedroom, where he donned his disguise for going out in public. Contacts to change his eye color, plus a wig giving him the appearance of longer and darker hair.
The last touches were to add a hooded sweatshirt, and sunglasses. Considering the fact that he didn't even recognize his own reflection, he doubted anyone else would know who he was.
Not bothering to check on the detective just yet this morning, he pulled back on the gloves. It was a good thing the weather had started to turn. No one would be suspicious of him wearing them. He gathered the package in his hands, and left where he'd been staying.
It was a longer distance than he'd planned to walk to get to the courier's office. But he couldn't risk taking the car. If it were to get ticketed, or even towed by some random streak of bad luck, his plan would be shot to hell.
There were three courier shops in the area. He'd scouted them out a few days ago, right when he'd broken free of prison. The first two were a little more upscale. They were likely to have working security cameras, and therefore, not a good option.
The third one on the list, while not as reputable, would serve its purpose. It was more run-down. Gordon suspected that some dealers used it as a front to run their drugs. He hoped they wouldn't be too hesitant to deliver to a package to a police station. Just in case, he was willing to pay extra.
Upon entering the shop, he was pleased to see he was the lone customer there. Scanning the room quickly, he spied a camera in the corner. His nerves were quickly put at ease once he recognized that it was there merely for show. There was no red light, nothing to indicate that it was in working order.
He sauntered up to the window, rang the bell to indicate he was seeking service. Within moments, someone appeared on the other side. It was a woman, and she barely even looked at him. Good.
"How can I help you?"
The woman sounded bored, like she could barely be bothered with her job. He really couldn't have picked a more perfect place.
"You do deliveries within the hour, correct?"
"That's what the sign says."
Clearly this woman was not in the mood for small talk. He handed over the package. It had already been addressed. Her eyes widened when she noticed who it was being sent to.
"Why are you sending something to a cop? We're not looking for any trouble."
Before she could ask any more questions, he slipped the cost of delivery under the glass, followed by a fifty dollar bill. Then he spoke in a low tone.
"Delivery in less than one hour. I was never here, understand?"
Her palm closed around the money. Though she knew it was wrong, she was low on making rent this month. This was just enough to help make ends meet. Without making eye contact with the man standing in front of her, she replied.
"Your package will be delivered sir. Thank you, and please don't hesitate to use our service again."
Gordon turned and stalked out of the shop. Step one of his plan was in motion. He had to get back to the house before beginning step two.
He walked quickly, keeping his head down. Though in disguise, he still had to be careful to not attract any unwanted attention.
He made it back to the house in record time. No one was around as he climbed up the steps and let himself through the door. Once inside he headed into the main room. Even though he knew that Stabler would undoubtedly request to talk to his partner, he wouldn't permit that. He also couldn't risk being in the same room as her when he made the call. She simply couldn't be trusted. No matter what he threatened her with, he thinks she would still try and give away his identity.
Picking up the phone, he scrolled through the list of contacts he had transferred in the day before. The real decision was what phone line to call. Should he dial Detective Stabler's personal cell number, or call him at his desk at work? Without a doubt, both lines were already set up with tracing equipment.
After thinking it over, he decided to go with the desk line for now. He could always call the cell number next time. It wasn't as though it was going to be a lengthy conversation anyway. He didn't really even plan on letting the Detective get a word in edgewise. This was to let Stabler know who was making the rules. Who was in control.
It took him awhile to find the name he'd been looking for in the list. He'd been mistakenly looking under the "S" for Stabler. Instead, it was categorized under "El-work". That only proved to him just how close the partners were.
As a final act before completing the call, he grabbed the voice distorter he'd picked up at a novelty store, along with a small digital recorder. The distorter was to disguise his voice as much as possible, as well as give the call a sinister tone. The recorder, on the other hand, would be used to tape whatever Stabler had to say. Once several key words were spoken, he would splice them together. When played back to Detective Benson, she would think her partner didn't want her back. After the fight he'd witnessed yesterday, that part of his plan would now work perfectly.
With everything in place, he pressed the 'dial' key, and lifted the phone to his ear. The only thing left to do was to wait for Detective Stabler to answer.
At the sixteenth precinct, the delivered breakfast had long since disappeared. The detectives, along with Doctor Huang, were hard at work.
Not long after they'd finished eating, Reuben Morales had come upstairs to join them. He'd brought along his laptop, so he could continue along with other projects. But he wanted to be present in case there were any calls from Gordon Rickett today. The faster they could trace his location, the faster they would find Olivia.
They'd also received word from Ryan. The remnants in the syringe had been identified as diazepam. It was better known by the name brand Valium.
Upon hearing this news, all heads had turned in George's direction. It seemed everyone was holding their collective breath waiting for the doctor to explain. Could this drug be fatal to Olivia? What were the risks involved?
Unfortunately, George didn't have all the necessary information to put everyone at ease. They knew what drug she had been given, but there was no way of knowing just how much.
Elliot shared his theory, that if the intention had been to kill Olivia outright, Gordon would have left behind her body for him to find. George agreed.
They were continuing the conversation further, and everyone was contributing. All of a sudden, the shrill sound of a telephone ringing cut through the air. Every head in the room turned toward Elliot's desk.
Reuben moved into place behind his equipment while Elliot sat down in his chair. He waited as the man slipped on a set of headphones, then gave him the thumbs up sign. Only then did he pick up the receiver.
"Special Victims Unit. Detective Stabler speaking."
He was greeted by silence on the other end of the line. Just as he was about to hang up, figuring it was a wrong number, he heard breathing. He felt his fingers curl into a fist in anticipation. This was the call he'd been waiting for.
"Detective Stabler. I believe I have something – or should I say someone – of value to you."
Even though he was furious with the man on the other end of the line, Elliot tried to keep his temper in check. He had to stick to the script. Plus if he got angry, Olivia would be the one to suffer. For now, he'd have to play along with Gordon's game.
"What is it you want?"
"I don't want anything. It's simple, really. I'm going to kill Detective Benson, and there isn't anything you can do about it."
Elliot felt the fury rise in him now, after hearing those words. Even worse, with the conversation on speaker, everyone else in the room had heard them too. He chanced a glance over at Reuben, hoping that the trace was working. The man gave a regretful shake of his head.
Thoughts were racing through his head at the pace of a mile a minute. He wasn't sure what to say next. He had to draw out this call so the trace could be complete. But his heart was aching with those words. He was going to kill Olivia.
Wait a minute – he'd said 'going to kill'. That meant Olivia was still alive. He hadn't done anything to her yet. Perhaps he could still be reasoned with.
"I want to talk to Olivia. So I can have proof she is still alive."
Laughter echoed down the line. Much like the tone of the call, it was sinister. There was nothing that said the man found anything about the situation humorous.
"You seem to forget something, Stabler. You don't get to call the shots. We're playing by my rules here, not yours. As for proof, you'll get that soon enough."
Elliot found himself ready to lose his temper. He'd have proof soon enough? What could he possibly mean by that? Again, Gordon taunted him with laughter. So far, though, Elliot had chosen not to admit he was aware of his identity.
"You know, Detective. I thought you'd be thanking me. After all, I did you a favor."
Elliot was confused. Still, he tried to draw the conversation out, desperate to complete the trace.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Your conversation with your partner yesterday. At the warehouse, remember? You told her you wanted her to stay out of your life. I've merely ensured she would do just that."
Again Elliot's hands clenched into fists. Fuck the script. He was going to blow.
"Listen to me you bastard. I don't care about my job. I don't care about the badge. I'm going to find you. And if you've hurt Olivia in any way, you son of a bitch, I'll kill you myself!"
The line went dead.
Berating himself for losing his temper, Elliot looked to Reuben. He was praying to every saint he could think of, in the hopes that the trace had gone through. One look at the man sitting across from him, and he knew that it hadn't.
Resisting the urge to curse out loud, Elliot stormed out of the squad room. He headed up the stairs to the roof. He needed some time to think. The one thing he didn't notice as he left was that he was being followed.
Pushing the door open for rooftop access, he took in a deep breath of fresh air. He was grateful wasn't raining today, although he wouldn't have cared even if it were. He walked over toward the side of the building, and braced his palms against the railing. As the conversation from only minutes earlier continued to replay in his head, he berated himself for allowing his anger to get the better of him.
Hearing footsteps approach, he spoke without turning around. He knew who had followed.
"I'm sorry. I know what I did was unprofessional. I just couldn't help myself."
The Captain's voice was understanding.
"I know, Elliot. Truth be told, you said what we were all thinking. Only thing is, you and I both know that you shouldn't have said it. There's a script to be followed in these types of situations."
Elliot could only nod. He turned then, to face his superior officer. He mentally braced himself for the news that he'd been taken off the case and was being sent home.
"Don't let it happen again."
Again, the Captain's voice was kind, but also left no room for argument. It was a final warning. He wasn't taking Elliot off the case, but made it clear that the behavior he was exhibiting wouldn't be tolerated. Elliot nodded his agreement. He was about to speak again, to apologize, when the door to the roof burst open.
"Cap, Elliot! You both need to come downstairs!"
It was Fin, and he was out of breath. Something had happened. Sure enough, the next words out of his mouth confirmed that fact.
"A package has just been delivered."
Elliot felt an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach that only increased with the next words out of Fin's mouth.
"It's for you, Elliot."
Gordon was busy at the computer. He'd borrowed it from his friend Matt. Something else that ensured these crimes couldn't be traced back to him, even if they did discover his escape from prison. All the evidence was pointing to Matt.
He'd uploaded the conversation with Detective Stabler, and was now working with the software to edit it. The great part about this program, was it allowed him to not just hear, but see the words. He studied them carefully, trying to figure out just what it was he wanted to get across. As it came to him, a sadistic smile spread across his face.
He finished the editing, then sent the new message back to the digital recorder. Putting it in his pocket, he went into the kitchen. There, he collected a bottle of water. It would be the only thing he would give the detective today. If she hadn't finished the one from the day before, he would take what remained with him. She'd have to learn how to ration better.
He went to the room where he was keeping her, and unlocked the door. She was sitting up in the bed, her back against the headboard. It almost seemed as though she was anticipating his arrival. Still, she didn't say anything to him.
"Do you need to use the bathroom?"
Her only response was a nod in the affirmative. As he had the previous two times he'd taken her, he stood behind her. He made certain to keep the knife at her throat. She'd already gotten the drop on him twice. He wasn't going to risk it happening a third time.
Only when they reached the bathroom door, did he spin her around. He cut the plastic that was keeping her wrists bound. Like before, he gave her a time limit. Then he allowed her to enter the small room and shut the door behind her.
While he was waiting for her to finish, he reached into his pocket for another zip tie. He'd need to restrain her again when she came back out. Checking his watch, he noticed her time was almost up. That was when his ears honed in on a certain sound. Pressing his ear to the door, he tried to listen carefully.
There it was. The sound of running water. It was going on for way too long. No one takes that much time to wash their hands. The bitch was sneaking extra water to drink. After he'd been so generous to allow her to have some. He wouldn't make that mistake again. She'd better enjoy that drink, because it would be the last one she ever took on her own. From now on, he'd have to monitor everything.
Giving her a moment's reprieve in the bathroom, he stalked out to the kitchen to grab a wrench. He wanted her to see what he was about to do. Then he stormed back down the hall and barged into the bathroom. Setting the tool down on the sink, he grabbed both of her wrists in one hand.
Rather than bind them in front of her, as he had been doing, he brought them behind her back. He knew he was being extra harsh with her, but he didn't care. It took all his willpower not to strangle her on sight. But he couldn't deviate from his plan. He had to remain calm.
Once she was bound, he forced her into a corner of the room, away from the door. He then closed the door, so that they were both inside. He grabbed the wrench, and proceeded to remove both the hot and cold handles from the faucet. Now there was no way to turn on water. When he glanced at her, the look on her face gave away the fact that she knew she'd been caught.
He grabbed her by the elbow again, dragging her with him. Once they were in the hallway, he led her toward the room where he'd been keeping her. Instead of allowing her to lie on the bed again, he shoved her back into the chair. He tied each of her ankles separately to the front chair legs, so there was no way for her to escape. Not without taking the chair with her.
As a final touch, he put a strip of tape over her mouth. She hadn't said a word to him yet today, but he didn't care. He also knew that by taping her mouth shut, she was dependent solely on her nose for breathing.
Then he grabbed the bottle of water that was left on the chair from the night before, along with the one he had brought in for her this morning. Unscrewing the caps, he turned them both upside down, spilling the contents all over the carpeted floor. He could tell from her expression that he had gotten the message across. Now it was time to tell – and show – her something else.
"I spoke to your partner, Detective Stabler, this morning."
Despite the fact that she made every effort to appear disinterested, he could tell that she was curious. Now was the time to inflict the most psychological damage. Reaching into his pocket for the recorder, he pulled it out to show to his captive.
"I didn't think you'd believe me, so I taped our conversation."
She looked at the device in his hand warily. Judging by the expression on her face, it was almost as if she thought it would explode or something. Gordon had to try to keep from smiling. This was going to be so much fun. He was about to watch Detective Benson break in front of his very eyes.
"I was quite surprised, the conversation didn't last very long. But maybe you'll want to listen for yourself."
With those final words, he turned the recorder up to max volume, and pressed "Play".
"Special Victims Unit. Detective Stabler speaking."
"Detective Stabler. I believe I have something – or should I say someone – of value to you."
"Listen to me, you bastard. I don't care about Olivia. I don't care if you kill the bitch!"
The only sound that followed those words was a dial tone. Gordon watched as Olivia's eyes widened as the words registered. There was no doubt that Elliot Stabler had been speaking. She recognized her partner's voice.
A few moments passed. Her shoulders, which had been held high and back in a defiant gesture, sagged. Her head dropped down. Unable to resist witnessing these moments of her misery, he reached out a hand. Cupping his fingers below her chin, he raised her head to meet his gaze.
She was fighting it, he could tell. Even back when she'd questioned him in interrogation, he'd known she was a proud woman. But this – what he'd done, manipulating the words of her partner – this was breaking her.
He knows that if not for their argument yesterday, there was no way she would have believed the validity of what he just played for her. But now - now she's second guessing herself. Second guessing their entire partnership.
Now it was time to dig the proverbial knife a little deeper.
"He's not coming to rescue you. No one is coming. No one cares."
He gave a moment for those words to sink in. Then to emphasize his point with what he had to say next, he took the knife in his hand. Tracing the blunt end of the blade down her face, he spoke directly into her ear. His voice was almost a whisper, as if he were telling her a secret.
"You're mine only for as long as I decide to keep you alive. And when I do decide to get rid of you, I promise you – no one will ever find your body."
He stepped away then, so he could leave. When he reached the door, he turned out the light. The room was once again plunged into darkness. The last thing Olivia heard was the sound of the key turning in the lock, and footsteps fading away. It was only then that she allowed her tears to fall.