Disclaimer: SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. I own nothing.
Elliot awoke to the sound of an alarm on his cell phone. He quickly silenced it, then lay back down. The bed in the cribs was uncomfortable, but he wasn't seeking comfort. He was trying to center his thoughts. He'd only been awake for the span of a few moments, and already his mind was running away with him. If he had to guess, it never even stopped while he slept. He couldn't remember much of his dreams, and what he could were nothing but troubled images.
Sometime around one in the morning, he'd been forced up into the cribs to get some sleep. He'd known it was useless to try and argue with the Captain. Plus his superior officer had been right on one point. Rickett was likely to call again this morning. It was better that he got some rest now, so he could be in top form. He would be of no help to Olivia if he were to fly off the handle like he had yesterday.
As he was lying on the bed, a second alarm sounded from his phone. He must have hit the snooze button by accident, versus silencing it altogether. Sitting up now, he turned off the offending device. He rose from his spot on the bed, and made his way to his locker. There was still plenty of time for him to grab a shower before he needed to be in the squad room. It wasn't that he thought he was excessively dirty, but the spray of the water would go a long way in helping him to clear his head and wake up.
Fifteen minutes later, Elliot headed downstairs. Like yesterday, he had opted to once again dress in casual clothes. Judging from those around him, he wasn't the only one. The Captain was the only one of their group who was still wearing a suit. Elliot guessed that had to do with meetings the man might have to attend. There was still no word from the chief on whether or not a press conference would be held. Elliot guessed that was because the brass all hoped the situation could be kept out of the public eye.
That had Elliot infuriated. Olivia risked her life on a daily basis to keep this city safe. The least they could do now that she was missing was alert the media. Put out a search for her. Maybe someone would have seen something - anything - that could help narrow down her location. But, no, the brass were too worried about maintaining an 'image'. Even at the risk of sacrificing one of their own. They were barely giving them enough manpower as it was to handle the case.
On his way to his desk, he passed the area where the coffee pot was kept. Just the thought of drinking a cup made him feel ill. He knew it was a combination of guilt, anxiety, and fear, but he still could not shake the constant feeling of indigestion that had taken up residence in his chest and stomach. Antacids didn't help. Just like aspirin didn't help the headaches. The only thing that would help is having Olivia back again, safe and sound.
Gathering some spare change from his desk, he went into the break room. He bought himself a soda from the vending machine. The one he'd drank yesterday had been mildly helpful at keeping his stomach troubles settled. Plus, it would serve the added purpose of providing him with a dose of caffeine. He normally wasn't a big soda drinker, but he needed something.
With his caffeine situation taken care of, he sat at his computer. He'd charged his phone last night while he slept, so he would have a full battery this morning. He laid it beside him on the desk for easy access. Then he began finding everything he could on Matthew Adams.
Ever since his release from prison, the man was a ghost. He must have taken up an assumed name. Elliot knew he didn't have any family, or other money sources. So he would have had to return to work in some capacity. While his nursing license had been revoked, his profile suggested that he would have been likely to seek something in a similar field.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Elliot couldn't help but laugh. All he had to go on were theories. That told him absolutely nothing. If only he could find something concrete. An address, a name, anything. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
Even if he were to start going door-to-door, questioning people at medical facilities, no one would be willing to help him. They would all be citing employee confidentiality. They'd be right. He had no warrant, no grounds for a search. Yes, they had Adams' DNA, but as far as his location, he was in the wind. Their best hope would be that the man would slip up somehow, and leave a clue behind.
Getting frustrated, Elliot decided to temporarily put aside his search for anything related to Matthew Adams. He simply didn't have enough information yet. Although his gut was telling him he'd have more to work with soon.
His gut had been something he could rely on ever since his days in uniform, and it rarely failed him. He hoped today, though, that it was wrong. He had a nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach regarding Olivia. It had been there from the moment he'd first woken up, and was only growing stronger.
The feeling was so severe, it bordered on nausea. In fact, when breakfast was delivered, the smell made him ill. He couldn't even begin to entertain the notion of eating. Not even the smallest of bites. Noticing the watchful eye Cragen was giving him, he knew he'd have to explain.
"I'm not feeling up to eating anything yet this morning, Cap. I'll grab something later, I promise."
He hoped the older man would take him for his word. He didn't want a fuss made, and he didn't want taken off the case. Olivia mattered here, not him. Elliot couldn't hold back his sigh of relief when Cragen's reply was to simply nod in understanding.
Elliot startled when his desk phone rang. Reuben wasn't in yet. What would they do if this was the call they were waiting for? How would they manage a trace? Taking a deep breath, he told himself to relax, and answered the phone. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed when the caller was revealed to be Reuben himself. The man had gotten caught in traffic this morning, and was running behind. He would arrive at the station shortly.
After hanging up, Elliot was confused. Wasn't Reuben, along with Ryan, staying on overnights as well? He voiced the question out loud, curious as to the answer. It was Munch who gave the reply.
"After you went up to the cribs last night, they were sent home. They tried to fight it, but were overruled by their Superiors. I'm sorry, Elliot."
Elliot could only nod. He didn't blame Reuben, or Ryan for that matter. They were just as dedicated to finding Olivia, and had been there since the beginning trying to help. If anyone besides the detectives were entitled to some rest, it was the two of them.
Reuben had just arrived, and was setting up his computer when a woman walked into the squad room. She was twisting her hands nervously in front of her as she stood waiting for someone to come and help her. Thinking she was a victim come to make a report, Fin approached her. Yes, it was true he and Munch were assigned to Olivia's case right now, but that didn't mean he couldn't take some information.
"Can I help you?"
He asked the question softly, the expression in his eyes as kind as his voice. The next words out of the woman's mouth definitely surprised him.
"May I speak to Detective..."
She paused for a moment, as though she were trying to recall a name. The instant it came to her, her features relaxed temporarily, only to return to their nervous state when she finished speaking.
"...Stabler, please. There is something important I need to discuss with him."
Fin didn't question her reasons, merely led her over to Elliot's desk. The detective looked up when he saw his colleague approaching with a woman he didn't recognize. He waited for someone to explain what was going on.
"Elliot, this is -"
Fin gestured toward the woman standing next to him, realizing he'd forgotten to ask her name.
"Abby Smith"
The woman supplied, still looking somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. She had yet to make eye contact with either man. Despite the fact that her instincts told her she was doing the right thing, she was still having second thoughts.
Elliot thanked Fin with a nod, and the other man took that as his cue to leave. Then he turned toward the woman standing next to his desk. He knew he wouldn't get any information out of her unless he put her more at ease.
"Please, sit down."
He gestured to the chair sitting by his desk. Abby took the chair that was offered to her. She slipped her purse off her shoulder, and held it on her lap. She was clutching it tightly in her hands, as though it contained something precious – or something deadly.
"Would you like something to drink? Coffee? A soda? Just some water, perhaps?"
Again Elliot tried a tactic to help and make her more comfortable. At first he thought she was going to refuse his offer, but he could tell the moment she reconsidered. With a soft voice, and again not meeting his eyes, she asked for some water. Elliot told her he'd be back in a moment, and hurried out of the room to get her drink.
He returned mere moments later, setting two bottles on the desk. He'd also gotten some water for himself. Then he took a seat, and faced her, giving the woman his full attention.
Abby knew that the time had come that she'd have to talk. But her throat was dry, and she couldn't seem to find her voice. With shaking hands, she opened the bottle of water the detective had brought her, and took a drink. Then she exhaled a breath. It was now or never.
"I work at ABC Courier service here in the city."
Elliot merely nodded his head. Sometimes victims didn't get to the heart of the story right away. They all had to start somewhere. But wait a minute – why did that name sound familiar? That was the courier service that had delivered the package from Gordon yesterday! Could it be that this woman had information? Saying a quick prayer that this was the case, he continued to listen.
"Yesterday, someone came into our office. The first thing I noticed was it seemed he was looking around to see if we had cameras."
Elliot's facial expression must have given something away about how he was feeling, because she hurried to explain.
"We do. I know it's required by law, even though some try and get around it. The thing is, our cameras look like they are fake."
Elliot nodded his understanding. He still didn't push her to talk. She had to tell her story on her own time. Even if he was desperate for more details.
"This man came in, right after we opened. He was most interested in our one-hour delivery promise. He had me process an envelope that was to be delivered here, to you."
Elliot was about ready to burst. Gordon was the reason she was here. While he knew there would be no chance of getting his actual location, there was still a chance of narrowing down the general vicinity.
Abby reached into her purse, and withdrew two items. One was a small plastic storage bag that held a fifty dollar bill. The other was an envelope containing a small disc. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking.
"I questioned him about delivering a package here. Told him we didn't want any trouble. He slipped this under the glass with his payment, and told me to forget I'd ever seen him."
As she spoke, she slid the bag with the money in it along the desk. She simply couldn't bring herself to tell Detective Stabler how much she'd thought about keeping it. Or could she? He couldn't arrest her for it, could he? Deciding to go for broke, she went all in.
"I'm a single mother, I work two jobs to make ends meet, and I'm still short on making the rent this month. That fifty dollars would have been just what I needed. I only thought about keeping it for a little bit, I swear!"
Now she was on the verge of tears. Swiping at her face in shame, she looked away. She startled suddenly, only to relax when she realized Detective Stabler was merely holding out a tissue in her direction.
"It's all right, Abby."
He soothed. He'd have to speak to Cragen, but maybe there would be a way to get her reimbursed. She was, after all, acting as a confidential informant.
Taking another sip of her water, Abby calmed down considerably. Then she passed over the envelope containing the disc. Elliot hoped that it was exactly what he was thinking. He didn't have to wait long to be proven correct.
"This is a copy of the video surveillance."
As soon as she spoke the words, Elliot had to stop himself from standing up and cheering aloud. Her next words brought him to a bit of a halt.
"I think he was wearing a disguise, so I'm not sure how much help it will be."
She went on to give Elliot a physical description, explaining in detail just what the man was wearing that day. Right down to the wig she suspected he had on.
"Would you be willing to sit down with a sketch artist, work with them?"
Elliot asked the question, barely holding on to his breath.
"Yes, of course. Anything to help."
Elliot led Abby down the hall, but asked her to stop and see him before she left. There were some things he needed to discuss with the Captain. First and foremost, ensuring she made the rent this month.
Gordon was waiting for Matt to arrive. He was pacing the floor of the living room, anxiety racing through his veins. So much of the next part of the plan couched in his friend's part in it. If he backed out now, he didn't know what he'd do.
The rational side of his brain told him to relax. Matt didn't have a car, and had been instructed not to take a cab. That meant he was dependent on public transportation. He most likely just missed his bus.
While he was waiting, Gordon looked through his supplies one more time. In doing so, he was pleased to realize he had miscounted the day before. He had not two, but three doses of the paralytic drug left.
Still, that didn't mean he could overuse it. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally kill the detective with an overdose. That would ruin the plan completely. He'd promised Detective Stabler that his partner would suffer, and he was determined to make that happen.
If he were to use the doses sparingly, however, that should work out fine. One dose would definitely be needed when Matt got here. They simply could not execute the next phase of the plan if she were able to fight back. The bitch had already proven on more than one occasion that she was capable of getting the better of him. He still had the bruises to prove it.
Taking his knife out, he moved to the kitchen. Once there, he used the proper tools to sharpen it. For what his intentions were, it was imperative that the blade were as sharp as it could possibly be. A dull blade simply would not do.
He was so intent on his task, that he startled when his cell phone rang. Answering the call, he realized it was Matt. The man had just gotten on the bus, and would be arriving shortly. Gordon reminded him to get off a block early and walk the rest of the way, so no one would be suspicious.
After ending the call, his mind wandered to other things. Should he take the detective to the bathroom a final time? The last thing he wanted was for her to lose control of her bladder. He didn't have a spare set of clothes for her, and didn't want the mess getting in his car. But he hadn't given her water since yesterday morning. It was doubtful if she'd even have to go. Still, better to be safe than sorry.
His decision frustrated him somewhat. That meant he'd have to sharpen the knife again after. It always dulled the blade when he used it to cut through the plastic zip ties. If he wanted everything to go according to plan, he simply must think more clearly.
He stormed down the hall, his anger with himself now evident. The detective would be a good source to take it out on. Heaven help her if she tried his patience this morning. He made his way to the door, then reached into his pocket for the key. Unlocking it, he went inside and flipped on the light.
Yet again, he'd caught her sleeping. Even though it hadn't quite been forty-eight hours since she'd eaten last, it was starting to show. Just like it had been about twenty-four hours since he'd last given her water.
"Do you need to use the bathroom or not?"
His voice was harsh, his impatience showing. He didn't care. He was anxious to move forward to the next step in his plan. It was past time he moved on from this place. His gut was telling him the police would discover this location soon. Even before he made the phone call to tip them off. Why was it he was so anxious?
The woman from yesterday. That's it. Even though she'd taken the money, and acted so nonchalant, something was off about her. What if she'd grown a conscience and gone to talk to the police? Thank
goodness the place hadn't had any working cameras. If only he'd had a way to get the woman's name, he could have paid her a little visit. Given her some extra incentive to keep her mouth shut.
Turning his attention back to his captive, he awaited her reply. She nodded her head in the affirmative. Swearing under his breath, he stalked over toward the bed. He was really getting sick of this. Again, as the previous time, he paid no heed as to whether or not he was nicking her skin with the blade as he freed her wrists and ankles from their bonds.
He also didn't bother removing the tape from her mouth. He merely pulled her roughly into a standing position, and marched her to the bathroom. She stumbled slightly, not ready for the quick pace. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back upright.
When they reached the bathroom door, he shoved her inside. Thinking it over briefly, he gave her a three minute warning, and shut the door. Then he stood outside, keeping an eye on his watch. The second the three minute mark was reached, he opened the door. She was standing there, waiting for him.
After everything, her eyes still held a look of defiance. He guessed she must have pushed aside the tape he had played for her the day before. Either that or her hatred for him was so great, she still hadn't broken. She had yesterday though. No matter how brief the moment. He'd seen it in her eyes when she'd faltered. When she'd heard the altered conversation in her partner's voice. Maybe he would have to play it for her again today, just to remind her.
They'd reached the room where he was keeping her again. It wasn't a bedroom, even though he might have referred to it as such. Perhaps it had been at once time. But in reality, it was an oversized closet. Used for storage most likely. It was ideal in that it had no windows. He'd only put the bed in here for her because it would eventually benefit his plan.
He shook his head. He simply couldn't let his mind wander when he was transferring her. That was one of the reasons she'd been able to get the better of him before. He cursed himself for not binding her wrists the instant she left the bathroom.
As though he had anticipated it, he felt himself shoved to the side. A palm strike hit him in the nose. While it brought tears to his eyes, and caused his nose to bleed, it was considerably weaker than the one she had used in the warehouse on Tuesday. He blinked to clear his vision, and cursed mightily when she was no longer in the room.
He caught up with her in the hall, and she was shouting loudly for help as she ran madly for the door. She must have removed the tape from her mouth on her own. Gordon lunged for her, but missed. Making a mad dash to the table, he grabbed one of the few remaining syringes. This one just contained the sedative. Advancing on her once again, he prepared to inject it.
Olivia caught his hand as it descended on her, and bent his wrist under. Using every ounce of strength she possessed, she forced his hand lower. She let out an exhale when the needle pierced Gordon's jeans and entered the flesh of his thigh. Acting quickly, she pressed down on the plunger. She prayed the medicine would be as quick acting as what he had used on her in the warehouse.
Sure enough, Gordon slumped to the floor. Olivia found the duct tape on the table, and quickly bound his arms behind him. Then she found the phone. It was just a burner cell, but would serve its purpose. With her captor down for the count, she took the phone, and went to step outside. She'd need to look at the street signs so she could give her location.
Olivia was almost to the door when it opened suddenly. Someone else was here. Shit. Gordon had an accomplice. She'd suspected as much only yesterday. Why didn't she think to search the place for a weapon? She'd known the man had a gun. The very least she could have done was taken the knife. Anything, so long as she'd had a means to defend herself. She berated herself for not thinking like a cop.
Steeling herself for another physical fight, she faced the newcomer. Maybe it was just a coincidence, she told herself. Fat chance.
"Where do you think you're going? Where's Gordon?"
The man was firing questions in her direction at a rapid pace. Plus there was something else about him. He looked familiar. Olivia searched her muddled mind to figure out just where she knew him from.
It came to her suddenly. Matthew Adams. She and Elliot had arrested him for raping his patients. He'd been initially sentenced, but some slimy defense attorney had gotten his conviction overturned. Dragged the victims through the mud doing it, too. She remembered how much counseling those women had needed. Now this man was working with Gordon? How did they even know one another?
Attempting to disarm Matt as she had Gordon, Olivia struck out with her palm. The blow was easily deflected. What she wasn't expecting was for the other man to pull out a gun. In her entire career, she'd never cowered in front of a gun. She wasn't about to start now. She stared down the barrel unflinchingly.
"Turn around."
She followed the instructions as she was given. Still, she refused to accept defeat. This was just a temporary setback. Olivia was determined to get away. If she couldn't depend on Elliot, she'd do it on her own.
They moved back into the house, the gun at Olivia's back. Soon, they came to the living room, where Gordon lay unconscious on the floor.
When Matt saw what had been done to his friend, he unleashed his fury on the detective. Spinning her around, he whipped her across the cheekbone with the gun.
"What the fuck did you do to him?"
Olivia's didn't give a verbal reply. Instead, she spit in Matt's face by way of answer. She was rewarded with yet another pistol whip, this time to the temple. Her system couldn't handle it, and she crumpled to the floor. She lay there, unconscious, a trickle of blood running down the side of her face.
Elliot walked out of the Captains office. He felt that his meeting with his Superior officer went well. He'd been able to get the necessary approval to reimburse Abby the fifty dollars. Despite everything still going on, that made him feel good. It wasn't her fault that she had gotten involved in this situation. She was trying to do the right thing.
Knowing that Abby was still with the sketch artist, he took a seat at his desk. There was something he wanted to check out. He pulled open the search feature on his computer, and entered the address of ABC Courier company. As he waited for the location to load, he tapped his foot impatiently.
Soon, the area popped up onscreen. The neighborhood looked familiar. Why was that? He zoomed in so he could examine it further.
Suddenly, it came to him. Not six blocks away from where the courier's office was located, was where Gordon's 'aunt's' house had stood! Would he really have gone back to the same place?
Fingers flying across the keyboard, he quickly accessed whatever information he had. From what he remembered from an earlier search, a new house stood on the property. He just couldn't recall if it had been sold to a new owner, or was being rented out.
With the flourish of keystrokes, he had what he needed. The name of the homeowner was on his screen. It was an out of state number. Jersey, if his guess was correct. Would it be too forward of him to call and ask a few questions? He desperately wanted to, but knew he shouldn't. At least not until he got authorization from the Captain. It was just a hunch he was operating on anyway.
He looked away from his computer to see Abby walking back into the squad room. Waving her over to his desk, he asked her to sit down once again.
"Did everything go okay with the sketch artist?"
He asked the question, noticing that the woman didn't seem as nervous as when she first arrived. Her hands had stopped shaking, and she wasn't clutching onto her purse as tightly.
"Yes. I did the best I could. I hope it provides some help to you."
Elliot assured her it would. Then he opened his desk drawer. He grabbed the envelope he'd stashed there earlier. Removing it, he extended it to the woman sitting in the chair beside him.
"I wanted to give you this before you left."
Abby had a puzzled expression on her face, but accepted the envelope nonetheless. What could a police detective possibly be needing to give her? Slipping her thumbnail under the flap, she opened it. When she saw what was inside, her jaw dropped in shock.
"This is – I can't – how did you?"
Unable to coherently form a complete sentence, she looked up at Elliot, the question clear in her eyes. She'd thought for certain the money she'd turned in would need to kept as evidence. How could they be returning it to her? Abby didn't have to wait for long, for Elliot launched into an explanation.
"That money comes from a fund we have here. What you did for us, classifies you as an informant. You therefore have the right to be compensated for what you told us."
He let her take in what he'd said, and once he saw that it had begun to register, added on one final piece.
"I'm sorry we aren't able to provide you with more. But it's what you would have had anyway, had you kept the money in the first place. Think of it as us reimbursing you."
Overwhelmed with gratitude, Abby felt the start of tears pricking at her eyes. She'd be able to make the rent this month, after all. She and her daughter wouldn't be in danger of being evicted. As relief surged through her, she impulsively reached out and threw her arms around Detective Stabler.
"Thank you! You have no idea what this means to me!"
As soon as she'd hugged him, she immediately pulled back, apologizing. Elliot assured her it was nothing to worry about. Considering what he was going through, it felt good to witness something positive.
Abby thanked him a second time, then turned around to leave. As she reached the exit, she turned around. Her final parting words were a promise.
"If this man should return to the shop, I'll be sure and let you know right away."
Elliot was grateful for her words, but worried about her as well. Gordon Rickett was an unpredictable man. He warned Abby that if she were to see the man again, to contact him directly by phone. Walking over to where she stood, he gave her one of his business cards. Then he watched as she headed toward the elevators to leave the precinct.
He was on his way back to his desk when someone called his name. It was an artist from the sketch department. They carried with them a notepad. For someone to come and see him this quickly, they must have found something important.
Elliot led the artist over to the desk where Reuben's laptop was set up. It was the only place where there was some extra space. He took a seat, and waited while they got their things in order. Though he tried to be patient, he was on pins and needles.
"I'm sorry to bother you Detective Stabler, but I found something I thought you'd want to see. Your Captain would be very interested as well."
Just as the man was about to suggest calling the Captain from his office, Cragen emerged on his own. Elliot raised his arm in a silent gesture to get his attention. Fin and Munch also became aware of this, and they too, gathered around the desk. The sketch artist now had the attention of everyone involved in the case.
"This is the drawing I made based on the description given to me by Ms. Smith."
As he spoke, he flipped the drawing tablet over, so that all could view his illustration. Elliot felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. The man in the picture did not resemble Gordon Rickett in any way. What if they were wrong about their hunch?
Sensing his distress, the sketch artist tried to soothe his nerves.
"I know this image didn't match that of the suspect you were zeroing in on. So I gave a copy of it to TARU. They were the ones working on the video surveillance."
Just as he was about to speak again, a new voice interrupted. It was Reuben.
"That's where I come in."
The other man simply nodded, then vacated the chair at the desk so the computer tech could use it. Reuben took the seat, and began hitting a few keys. Within seconds, a video began to play.
The men all watched as a man walked into a shop and scanned the area warily, seemingly searching for cameras. Then he went to the window, and passed an envelope and cash through the opening. No audio was available, so there was no way to tell what was being said.
Once the video ended, Elliot spoke. His voice was full of defeat and frustration.
"That video is useless. How are we supposed to tell if that is Rickett or not?"
Reuben wasn't deterred by his negativity. With a few more keystrokes, a new program opened. This one held a single screen shot from the video, a clear shot of the man's face. By accessing the program, Reuben was able to alter facial features. He removed the mustache and longer hair, and even changed the eye color. When he was finished he put the new image side by side with an old mugshot of Rickett's. The two photos were a match.
Gordon Rickett gradually came to consciousness. He wondered why he was on the floor. Then, he remembered. That bitch had stabbed him with the syringe he had intended to use on her. What was he going to do if she had escaped?
Despite his foggy brain, he rationalized that she must not have gotten free. If she had, police would be swarming the house by now. But what could have stopped her? He heard footsteps, and turned his head in the direction of the sound.
"It's a good thing I came in when I did, Gordy. Otherwise, your little 'plan' wouldn't have been worth shit. Tell me again, why didn't you just kill her at the warehouse?"
Matt. Feeling a combination of relief that his friend had arrived in time to prevent Detective Benson's escape, and irritation at his taunting, Gordon sat up. He sat still for a few moments, trying to ignore the way the room was spinning. Instead, he asked his accomplice a question.
"Where is she?"
Matt regarded him carefully. He'd like to tell the man that he'd just killed the bitch. That's what he'd wanted to do, anyway. From the moment he'd heard of the plan, he'd wanted to be involved. However, when it came to the execution of it, that was where the two of them disagreed. Gordon preferred a more complex, in depth scenario. One that would torture not only Detective Benson, but her partner as well.
Matt, on the other hand, thought it best they just kill the woman, then get the hell out of the country. But he wasn't the one calling the shots.
"I caught her trying to escape. Smacked her good and hard with my gun. Knocked her out."
Gordon was immediately concerned. What if the blow to the head had been fatal? That would ruin everything. Matt saw the questions in his eyes, and answered him before he could be asked.
"She's still breathing, don't worry. Only a little blood was drawn. Then I tossed her over my shoulder. Tied her up in the other room."
Satisfied with the response, Gordon went into the kitchen. There, he grabbed a drink out of the refrigerator. He also took two aspirin, hoping they would help his headache. Now he was having second thoughts about his plan. Not the plan itself, but how to carry it out. He wanted her to feel as much pain as humanly possible. This made three times now that she had attacked him. Three times that she had attempted escape. If not for Matt's arrival, she would have succeeded.
His next stop was the room where she was being kept. She didn't move as he turned on the light. Satisfied that she was still unconscious, he inspected her bonds. Unable to find the zip ties, Matt had needed to improvise with the duct tape. He could see where the blood had stained the mattress, and still remained on the side of her face.
Suddenly struck by a wave of inspiration, he went back out to the main room. He got the burner phone that had been retrieved by Matt. Taking it back into the other room, he opened the camera. He snapped one shot of the unconscious detective on the bed, making sure to get in all the blood. Then he opened up the text messaging app on the phone.
Someone tried to escape. She needed to be punished. I will make contact later today, then the countdown begins.
He attached the photo to the message, then went through the list of contacts. Once he found "El" listed there, and knew for a fact it was Detective Stabler's personal cell phone, he pressed 'Send'. Time to have a little fun. His number would show up as 'Unknown', so there was no fear of being traced.
With that done, he moved on to his next step. Deciding he wanted her awake, he slapped her harshly across the face. She roused slightly, but only moaned softly. A second slap, and then she was blinking against the light. Once her eyes opened fully, she glared up at him. How she could still remain so defiant after all this, amazed him. He'd definitely need to play that audio clip of her partner's voice again later before carrying out the final part of his plan. Let that be one of the last things she ever heard.
"That was a really stupid mistake you made."
He spoke the words through clenched teeth. Considering that Matt had taped her mouth shut, she was unable to answer. Although judging by the look in her eye, he wouldn't have liked what she had to say. Then again, maybe he did want to hear it after all. Reaching out in an abrupt movement, he tore the tape from her lips.
"Go ahead. Let's hear it. Tell me what you really think."
Olivia remained quiet, still glaring at Gordon. Still, he urged her again. It wasn't as though her speaking her mind would make a difference in the outcome. He was going to kill her anyway. But she didn't know that. Or maybe she did. He waited.
"You're going to go back to prison."
Of all things she could say to him, she issues that threat? He couldn't help but laugh. What would ever make her think that. His plan was foolproof. After every step was carried out, he and Matt would make their way to Canada, then go their separate ways. That was the plan, anyway. Things could change. He had other thoughts formulating.
If all worked accordingly, he would be going to Canada. Matt would be staying here in New York, and getting an all expense paid trip back to prison. Considering the weight of his crimes, perhaps even a trip to death row. Someone had to be the fall guy, after all. He'd already ensured that the evidence from the rapes would be found. Maybe he'd frame Matt for Detective Benson, too.
Focusing his attention back on the woman in front of him, he spoke to her again.
"I'm not going back to prison. Ever again."
Undeterred, she met his gaze. Her eyes still had all the fire and determination from the very first time he'd seen her.
"It doesn't matter that I won't make it out of here alive. My squad will find you. I'm just sorry I won't be around to see you get the needle."
It was the first time he'd ever heard her admit anything in relation to her fate. She was acknowledging that she wouldn't make it out of this situation she was in, but still steadfast in her belief that he would be held responsible. Despite his hatred for her, he had to admire her tenacity.
Deciding he'd heard enough, he grabbed another piece of tape and placed it over her mouth. After that was done, he ensured her bonds were secure. Not trusting the duct tape to hold her, he opted to switch back to the zip ties.
He was careful about it though. She wasn't going to get the better of him for a fourth time. Calling out for Matt's assistance, he waited for his friend to come in the room. Once he was there, he instructed the other man to hold her wrists in place.
Placing one knee on the bed, and the other in the center of her chest, Matt obeyed instructions. He pinned her arms against the headboard.
Gordon used the knife to quickly cut through the tape, then swapped in the zip ties. He made sure they were fastened tightly. As always, he added a second to secure her wrists to the headboard itself.
With a nod of his head, he indicated that Matt should release her. The process was then repeated with Olivia's ankles. Now that the task was finished, they left the room. In just a few hours, it would be time to place a call to Detective Stabler. A phone call he'd never be able to forget.
Elliot was so furious, he didn't know what to do. Casey had just been in, and informed the group as a whole that her hands were tied. Despite all the information they had on both Rickett and Adams, no judge would issue a warrant.
It apparently didn't matter that they had Adams' DNA, or that Rickett had sent a package. According not only to the judge, but the DA's office as a whole there wasn't enough proof. And since the Police Chief refused to go public with Olivia's kidnapping, there was no concrete evidence that she'd be taken. She was simply just MIA.
His mind was spinning as he replayed what Casey had told them. He kept going over and over in his thoughts, and they turned bitter. What did they need to have enough concrete evidence so they could get a warrant? Olivia's body? He shuddered at the thought of it. Then he shook his head, trying to dispel the thought as quickly as it had come.
He simply couldn't go there. They would find Olivia – alive.
Chancing a glance at his watch, he noticed it was just after ten-thirty in the morning. Something else occurred to him too. Ever since Tuesday afternoon, he cannot recall a time when he checked his watch so much before in his life. Even when it seemed like hours had passed, it was only the span of a few minutes.
It dawned on him that he hadn't eaten yet, even though he'd promised the Captain that he would. Making his way over to where this morning's breakfast delivery remained, he scanned what was left.
Before he noticed the food, he noticed a card next to the tray. It was from Casey. Someone else making sure they were taken of. Perhaps it had been a preemptive peace offering in light of the news she would ultimately have to deliver. Either way, he appreciated the gesture.
He selected a bagel, along with a single-serve package of cream cheese. Before going to sit down, he also grabbed a small carton of juice from next to the bagels.
He had no sooner sat down to his desk than the Captain walked by. The man said nothing to him, but nodded. Elliot could tell the older man was pleased to see him eating something. Cragen then continued on toward his office.
Elliot was halfway through his meal when his cell phone chimed. That particular tone indicated it was an incoming text message. Figuring that it was just Kathy checking in, he was in no real hurry to answer it. But something in his gut kept nagging at him. He set his bagel down on a napkin and reached for the phone. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
"CAPTAIN!"
He shouted out for Cragen, his voice shaking. He'd only just read the words glaring at him from the screen. It was then he noticed there was an attachment. A photo had been sent along with the message.
While he knew he had to view it, a part of him was afraid. Before he could press the 'Open' button on the device, the Captain was by his side. Fin and Munch soon followed.
"What is it Elliot?"
Concern was evident in Cragen's voice, and for good reason. Elliot didn't panic easily. If something made him upset, it had to be important. Without saying a word, his detective turned the phone toward him so he could read the message. From their position behind the Captain, Fin and Munch were able to read as well.
Someone tried to escape. She needed to be punished. I will make contact later today, then the countdown begins.
After they had all read the words, they looked at one another. She needed to be punished? What could those words possibly mean? Still, they couldn't help but all feel a surge of pride. Olivia had tried to escape. She was still fighting, like they all knew she would.
"Open the photo, Elliot."
Cragen's voice was somber. He didn't want to see what the image held, either. But he knew they all had to. Olivia was depending on them.
Elliot pressed his thumb on the proper button, and the picture began to load. There was no question that it was Olivia. Like the last picture they had seen of her, she was bound. Tape was covering her mouth. Once again, she appeared to be unconscious. What was most troubling was the blood.
A small pool of it had gathered next to her on the bed, staining the mattress. While it would have been easy to accept she might have been mildly injured in a fight, it was the blood on her face that was most troubling. A cut on her temple was visible, streaks of blood leaking down her cheek. Everyone was so drawn to the bloodstains, that it was Fin who noticed something the others did not.
"Look at her hand."
Instead of focusing on the picture, everyone's eyes turned to him. They were curious as to what he was talking about. Olivia had clearly been hit in the head, possibly more than once. He was worried about her hand? What could he possibly mean by that?
"There is a cut on her hand. It looks a couple days old."
Fin waited a moment, letting the others see it for themselves. Then he continued making his point.
"I think that is the source of the blood we found in the warehouse."
It was as if a collective light bulb had gone off. Everyone seemed to get it at once. Fin wasn't minimizing Olivia's current injuries, he was simply pointing out others. Perhaps she hadn't been hurt as severely as they'd thought on Tuesday, after all. The blood was merely a way of attracting their attention.
Putting all else aside, Elliot immediately relinquished his phone to Reuben. The chances were slim, but he was going to try and see if he could trace the source of where the message had originated. Still, Elliot hadn't lost all hope. After all, it had explicitly stated that he would be contacted later today.
There was one thing that was puzzling him. The final part of the message. What could Rickett possibly mean by "the countdown"? Something in his gut told him he really didn't want to know that answer.
Elliot returned to his desk, and caught sight at what remained of his breakfast. Knowing he wouldn't be able to finish it now, he tossed it in the trash. He downed another antacid instead.
Fifteen minutes later, Reuben came over. Elliot didn't even need to look at him to know what the man was going to say. It was written all over his face. He hadn't been able to get anywhere. There was a frustration that was shared by all. Still Reuben had something to say.
"He said he's making contact later. I'm going to double check all the equipment, make sure we're ready to make a trace."
Despite the situation looking bleak, everyone nodded. There was something about that message that was ominous. Perhaps Gordon would allow a trace to be completed, if only to taunt them further. They'd just have to be ready for it.
Cragen excused himself from the group. He was heading back to his office, to make yet another phone call. This time, he was going to use the most recent message they had received to try and convince the brass to let them hold a press conference. If only they could get Olivia's picture out to the media, more people would be looking. They didn't want civilians risking their lives, but it would be easy enough for someone to make a phone call to a tip line if they saw something suspicious.
With a sigh, Cragen went into the office and closed the door. He'd always been happy with his rank, never wished for more power that what he was given. Right now, he sure would like some. Anything that would help him find his missing detective. He wouldn't let the lack of assistance from the higher-ups deter him though. He'd made a promise to himself when Olivia first went missing. He would not be attending her funeral.
It was now almost noon, and Gordon was still feeling the effects of the sedative. He hoped Matt would be back soon. He hadn't wanted to send the man out, but they had needed food. It was too risky to have something delivered to the house. Plus there was a deli just down the block.
As though he'd read his mind, Matt came walking through the door mere moments later. He was carrying a bag in each hand. Gordon was puzzled at first as to why he'd gotten so much, especially when they would be leaving later today. Then, he realized that one of the bags contained their drinks.
While Matt was setting up their lunch, something else occurred to him. They would need to make a grocery run before they reached their next location. It shouldn't pose a problem, there were plenty of small stores on the way upstate. But they'd definitely need to stock up on supplies. Other than a few breaks at roadside rest stations, they couldn't afford to make any stops. It would be too risky.
Pushing those thoughts to the side for now, he focused on his meal. He hoped that by eating something, it would rid his body of the remaining fog that still lingered. Yet again, he cursed the female detective for turning the tables and getting the better of him. After he'd eaten, though, she would get what was coming to her. And then some.
Matt took a large bite of his sandwich. If he'd noticed that Gordon was being unusually quiet, he wasn't commenting on it. Besides, its not as if they were super close. Yes, it was true they were friends, but it wasn't a relationship built on trust. He was eager to get to Canada and away from Gordon, before the man could sell him down the river.
His only regret in his part of this grand plot was that most of the evidence would point to him. Only the kidnapping and subsequent murder of Detective Benson would be on Gordon's hands. But he had been paid handsomely for his role in the scheme. Enough to start his life anew.
They finished their lunch in relative silence. Gordon threw the trash away. He knew he'd be leaving a mess, but didn't care. When he'd rented the place, he'd given a fake name. At least that's what he'd told his friend. In reality, though, the name he'd given the landlord had been none other than Matthew Adams.
Before moving on to the next step of their plan, they got to work gathering things together. They both knew they'd have to move quickly once they made the phone call. So they packed everything up in the car, save for what they'd need.
The best thing of this part of the plan was the house had an integral garage. No one to see them loading the car. Soon, everything was stored in the backseat. The only thing they'd left behind was a dose of the paralytic and the knife. There was also one of the bags Matt had brought, but that contained something very important. They'd be needing duct tape as well, but a spare roll was in the room where Detective Benson was being kept.
Checking his watch, Gordon saw that it was just coming up on twelve thirty. It was perfect. They could make the phone call, and carry out the next phase of their plan. Then, they'd be long gone before the police would follow the trace and arrive here at the house. Traffic wouldn't be too heavy at this time of day. At least he hoped not. Even so, the car he was using couldn't be traced back to him. Just something else he'd be able to pin on Matt.
Before making the call, Gordon used the bathroom. Then it would be Matt's turn. They'd be in the car for some time after this, and the fewer stops they'd need to make, the better.
While Matt was in the bathroom, Gordon took the opportunity to pocket the gun the other man had left behind. He wasn't going to take any chances. Plus, he still was debating whether or not to actually let the man come along. He was grateful to his friend for stopping Detective Benson's earlier escape, but maybe it was time for them to part ways. This would be the perfect opportunity.
Matt came out of the bathroom sooner than anticipated, interrupting Gordon's thoughts. Rather than have the man go looking for his weapon, Gordon instructed him to get his bag from the refrigerator. It was time to act.
Matt did as instructed, and together they moved into the room where Detective Benson was. Gordon unlocked the door, and passed the key to his friend, who pocketed it. Then they stepped over the threshold, turning on the light.
The woman on the bed was awake, and blinked harshly at the overhead lights. She most likely had a headache from the blows she had taken earlier. She watched with wary eyes as the two men approached the bed.
Gordon removed the syringe containing the paralytic from his pocket. He flicked off the cap, and moved forward. As he inserted the needle into the flesh of her neck, he relished the flicker of fear he saw in her eyes. Then he spoke.
"That should act quickly. I've given you this once before."
He waited for a moment, watching her face as his words registered.
"You'll be completely awake and aware the whole time. You just won't be able to move or speak. But, you'll still be able to scream - in a way."
The drug worked quickly, and was evident by the way the muscles in her face relaxed. Her body slumped on the bed, sagging against the bonds.
Methodically, Gordon began laying out the items he was going to use. There was no rush to his movement, and his sole purpose was to further terrify her. His plan was to make her believe that these were her last moments on this earth.
The last thing he set out was the digital recorder he had shown her once before. He saw the recognition in her face when he set it on the bed. Picking it up, he proceeded to taunt her.
"What's the matter? Do you recognize this? Maybe I should remind you."
Olivia's eyes, the lone part of her body that she had control of, began to blink rapidly. It was evident she was trying to keep tears at bay. This was the perfect time to replay the message that he'd doctored.
With the press of a button, Elliot Stabler's voice filled the room.
"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!"
As those horrible words echoed through the room and filled her ears yet again, Olivia lost her battle of wills. Her eyes spilled over, and twin tears trailed down her cheeks. This was it. Gordon was going to kill her, and there was nothing she could do about it. No one was coming. She'd made a valiant effort though – very nearly gotten away this morning. It just wasn't enough. Directing her gaze back to her captor, she was determined to stare him down. If she was going to die, she'd look him in the eye.
Again Gordon marveled at Detective Benson. Just when he'd thought that she was going to break, she'd steeled her resolve once again. She was staring him down, almost as if she were challenging him. Let's see how she would react to what he did next.
Reaching into the bag Matt had brought, he withdrew the 'secret' ingredient. The bags of Olivia's blood the man had stolen from the blood bank. Instead of four bags, as they'd originally planned on having, there were five. Five pints total. Five pints of Detective Benson's blood that would be spilled throughout this room. Gordon almost wished he had a camera, so he could view Stabler's reaction when he discovered it.
With that much blood 'loss', she would be presumed dead. Sure, they'd search for a little while longer for her body, but give up eventually. None of them would ever guess that he'd taken her with him across the border into Canada. Or that he'd buried her alive in a shallow grave on the property of some random cabin.
Elliot was at his desk. It was nearing one in the afternoon. When was Gordon going to call? Was he going to call? That text message from this morning kept replaying in his mind, and that photo kept haunting him. He wanted to hit something, again. Maybe before going up to the cribs tonight, he'd take an hour and go to the gym. Spend some time with punching bag.
Suddenly, his phone rang, and he startled. It was his desk line. Could this be the call he was waiting for? After checking to see that Reuben was ready, he picked up the receiver.
"Special Victims Unit, Detective Stabler speaking."
There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Then, a voice spoke. Much like the last time, a voice distorter was being used.
"Hello, Detective. So good to talk with you."
Elliot looked up abruptly and and snapped his fingers. Reuben immediately came to attention, and pressed a button. A trace was begun on the call, trying to find a location. Fin and Munch stopped their conversation, and grew silent. Munch abandoned his desk to go and get Cragen, bringing him out to listen to the call as well. Elliot switched the phone to speaker mode, so everyone could listen in.
"I want to talk to Olivia."
It was a bold statement, making a demand like that, but Elliot was desperate. Especially after the photos he'd seen of Olivia lately. He needed to know she was okay. He knew she'd tell him the truth.
"I'm afraid that's going to be impossible, detective. Olivia is a little – shall we say – 'tied up' at the moment."
The caller went on for several more minutes, continuing to taunt the detectives. Elliot was barely allowed to get a word in edgewise. Finally, it seemed they had gotten to the point of the call.
"While she can't talk to you, I assure you you'll be able to hear her. And I thought you'd all want to say goodbye."
Elliot, along with everyone who was listening, felt ill. Say goodbye? This man couldn't possibly mean what they thought he did, could he?
Their worst fears were confirmed when the next thing they all heard was a guttural noise coming over the speaker. It was a sound of pure terror, mixed with pain.
"Stop!"
His voice was strangled, but Elliot managed to choke out the word anyway. His knuckles were white from where he was gripping onto his desk. He chanced a look over at Reuben, but the man was intensely focused on his computer screen. More desperate than ever, Elliot tried to prolong the call. They simply had to get this trace.
Another noise came out over the speaker. But it sounded different than the previous one. She wasn't screaming "No!", "Stop!", or "Don't". It was almost as if she were incapable of forming words. These were more like vocalizations, at their most basic form.
There was something else, too. Turning up the volume on the speaker, Elliot tried to figure out what it was. Then they heard it. As police officers, it was a sound they were all able to identify. It was the sound of a knife stabbing into flesh. Oh, God. He was stabbing her to death.
Suddenly, as soon as they'd started, the sounds ended. An eerie silence followed. It was replaced once again by the distorted voice.
"I told you she'd suffer. It's all your fault, Elliot."
Laughter echoed over the line. The words that followed next were delivered in a sing-song fashion.
"You'll never find her, you'll never find me. All you will have left is your guilt."
Then the line went dead.
Elliot sat at his desk, stunned. It couldn't be true. Did he really just sit there, doing absolutely nothing? While his partner – his best friend- was tortured, perhaps even murdered, on the other end of the line?
Reuben let out a triumphant yell, and everyone was drawn out of their solemn mood.
"I've got a location!"
He repeated the address aloud, while simultaneously sending it to the printer to get copies. Cragen radioed for a crew of unis, as well as CSU to meet them on site. Everyone raced for their cars. Fin and Munch would be taking one, Elliot and the Captain the other.
Everyone was driving at top speed, sirens blaring. There were in a race against time. Following the group of police vehicles was an ambulance. Cragen had requested that one meet them at the scene. They didn't know what they were going to find, and there would be no time to wait. Yes, they'd still have to wait outside while police secured the property, but at least they'd be there.
As Cragen was navigating through the city streets, Elliot took another glance at the address where they were headed. Once he recognized it, he was furious with himself. They were going to the house that stood on the property that had belonged to Gordon's aunt. He'd wanted so badly to follow up on that lead, and wasn't able to, because there simply wasn't enough 'evidence' to warrant it. He should have just done it anyway, and to hell with the consequences.
They pulled up to the house. It was already surrounded with police cars, and several officers were inside. Two unis were bringing a man out in handcuffs. Elliot immediately recognized him as Matthew Adams. He looked as though he'd been involved in a fight. So far, it seemed as though he was taking his 'right to remain silent' seriously, as the man wasn't saying a word.
The two unis put him in the back of a police car, and drove off, presumably taking him back to the precinct to be processed. Elliot stepped inside the house. The hairs on the back of his neck were all standing up.
There was a box on the table in the main room, and it was addressed to him. Asking for a pair of gloves, he opened it. Inside, he found several tapes along with four wallets. He knew that those wallets belonged to the victims they had found on Monday. Somehow he knew that those tapes were related, too.
Passing the box off to a nearby CSU officer, he gave instructions.
"Get these tapes to TARU, and the wallets to the lab. After that, see they get to Melinda Warner, she'll need them to help ID our Jane Does"
With a nod, the man took the box and disappeared. Elliot continued down the hall. He was just approaching a room on the left when Fin and Munch came out. Both of them looked ill. Fin put his arms out, stopping Elliot in his tracks.
"Stabler, trust me, man. You don't want to go in there."
Ignoring the warning, Elliot shoved them both aside, and raced into the room. He stopped short as soon as he crossed through the doorway.
There was blood everywhere. It stained the walls and the ceiling. The mattress of the bed in the corner of the room was drenched with it. Even the floor was covered in blood. He couldn't remember a time when he had seen so much of the stuff, and known that it had come from the same person.
Unable to help himself, he sank to his knees in despair. There was no way Olivia could have survived this. He didn't have to be a doctor to know that. There was simply too much blood. He'd failed her. He'd failed her, and would never get to ask for her forgiveness.
He wasn't sure how long he stayed that way, lost in his grief. At some point, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He stood, only to see Melinda standing behind him. There were tears in her eyes. Unable to find words to say anything to her, he left the room silently.
Elliot met up with Fin, Munch, and Cragen back in the main room of the house. All of them were wearing looks that he guessed matched his own. It was the Captain who spoke first.
"We should head back to the station. Someone needs to speak to Adams, hopefully before he lawyers up."
"I'll do it."
It was Elliot who offered. Everyone looked at him in shock. Cragen tried to give him an out.
"Elliot, it's okay if you don't. You can take some time. Go be with your family."
"No, Cap. I need to do this. I have to question the bastard."
He wiped his hand down his face, and exhaled a deep breath. Once he felt a little bit more steady, he continued.
"Adams is our one hope of finding Rickett. He's the one who is responsible for all this."
He heard his voice crack, but still had one final thing to say.
"I have to do this, Cap. I owe it to Olivia."
Cragen nodded in agreement, and the four of them headed back to the station.