Also, I claim no knowlegde of our legal system. I look up what I can, and the research is done, but I do not back up what I have written from a legal stand point. However, just because something is wrong does not mean I want it to stay that way. If you catch a boo-boo, please LET ME KNOW!! I will do what I can to [hopefully] fix it, or warn people of the mistake.
Author's Note: This story is based around an original character, or, more honestly, a Mary Sue :o) It is an introductory story to the character so that readers will know a bit more about her and will hopefully be more comfortable with her symbiosis into the SVU Team. However, the background on a case given in this fanfic will be integral to a future fic or, possibly, fics.
Chapter Three: The Job
Elle rubbed her eyes behind her glasses, then looked back to the file at hand, not really wanting to. This particular case one was one of the more bizarre that she had heard of. A man raping women, then killing them and stealing their ovaries. The women were found in strange positions.
She frowned in concentration and scribbled more notes on her third pad that day. She was sure the positions were a clue to something, but what?
I'm gonna have to take the damn files home with me.
That was not a tempting option.
"How's the first day coming along?"
Elle started and looked up to find Odafin Tutuola standing next to her desk.
"Didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to welcome you to the team."
He extended his hand and she took it, glad for the warmest welcome all day.
"Thanks, Detective Tutuola." His strong, firm handshake matched hers and the friendly smile was infectious. She smiled back at him as he glanced at the single clear spot on the edge of her desk and sat.
"It's Fin."
"Fin. Call me Elle."
"Will do."
Munch walked in with lunch bags from a local diner and dropped them on Benson's desk. She handed one to Stabler, not even pausing from her phone conversation.
Fin took the last one from his partner, who walked back to his desk, not even bothering to glance in Elle's direction. She sighed. There was no question who was going to be the hardest to win over. The real question: should she even try?
Cregan came out of his office. "What have we got?"
Olivia put one finger up and used the other hand to scribble a note.
Elle took off her glasses and put her pen down, thankful to be away from the files if even just for a few minutes.
Fin turned around and offered her some fries. She took a few. "Thanks."
"No prob."
Olivia put the phone back into it's cradle and stood, walking over to the markerboard. "Well, I found out why we couldn't find a thing on Renee Anthony's husband."
Cregan nodded. "She wasn't really Renee Anthony."
Olivia's mouth dropped a little in surprise. "What?"
"You found the husband?"
"Yeah. Blake Anthony. Says here," she held up the scrawled note. "that he died three years ago in Arizona."
"He did. But so did the real Renee Samantha Bay Anthony."
Olivia threw the paper in the trash bin and sat back down, grabbing her lunch. "They didn't say anything about that."
"Well," Munch started, feet up on his desk, soup in hand. "If our girl wasn't Renee, then who was she?"
"Shellie May Pruit. Our database kept bringing up only one answer to Anthony, a black school teacher from Arizona who died in a house fire three years ago. So, the geniuses finally realized the rape victim's ID must have been a fake. They ran the picture through and found a match for a DUI six years ago in California under the name 'Shellie May Pruit'. They cross referenced the name and found that she was wanted in Idaho as a suspect for her stepfather's murder."
Stabler looked over to the markerboard. "Did she have a motive?"
Cregan cleared his throat. "Rape."
The detectives glanced at each other in moderate disbelief.
Olivia shook her head. "Let me get this straight. She might have killed her stepfather because he raped her-"
"Two confirmed reports at 13 and 19."
"Was she a runaway?"
Cregan nodded.
"So she escapes her rapist stepfather and comes here, only to be raped again and this time, murdered."
Munch looked at her over the rim of his glasses. "Small world."
"I'll say."
Cregan looked over his detectives. "She probably wore the wedding band to make herself feel safer."
"A lot of good it did." Stabler started, anger evident through the tension in his voice. "Ironic though, isn't it? Wearing the ring to keep her safe is what got her killed."
"If that's why she wore it."
Cregan walked over to the board and erased Renee Anthony's name, replacing it with the correct one. "So, Munch. Find out anything useful on your fieldtrip to the science department?"
"Other than you never get used to the smell? Yeah, actually. It looks like our boy neglected to wear a condom twice. So far his samples don't match anyone in the system, but it's too early to tell either way."
Fin, still perched on Elle's desk, looked up at his captain. "Kind of absent minded of him, isn't it? Not to mention careless."
Elle bit her lip. "Um..."
Everyone turned to her. Cregan raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Yes, Miss Seymour?"
"Well, it might not have been careless. Or absent-minded."
Olivia looked at her, expression betraying her amusement at the new shrink, along with something rare for Elle. Disdain. A bit of what she caught from Munch's every glimpse in her direction.
Elle sat up straight in her chair, feeling very much on the defensive all of a sudden. She was not used to challenges to her position and knowledge. Hadn't had to deal with them for a little under two years when she had proved herself to Homicide. And that's exactly what she saw in Olivia Benson's eyes. A challenge.
Scrutiny was one thing. But being outright disliked was gonna be hard to fix.
"What do you mean?" Olivia asked. "You think he did it on purpose?"
She shook her head. "Not exactly. I just don't think he cares. I don't think it matters. Not just to him, but period." She stood, walked over to the corkboard and looked at all of the pictures; the victims as they were found.
"All of the bodies, with the exception of the fifth who evidently put up more of a struggle, were in good condition. Including the clothes. Not even a visible wrinkle. All of the bodies are situated in the same last pose: sitting straight up on the toilets of public restrooms with their hands outstretched and clasped together."
"Don't forget his second victim. Found in her own house."
She ignored the surly tone in John Munch's voice and pointed to the picture of the second victim. "But in her own bathroom. Just like the others. With every woman, it's the same. No excess blood, not even from the victims' head wounds from the gun shots."
Munch, again, interrupted. "The first victim was strangled."
She, again, ignored the man. "No signs of panic, which shows this guy keeps his composure throughout. If he's not in the database, odds are the condoms are just a personal preference. And I don't think he'll be in the database. Anyone this precise-" She pointed to the picture of Sandra Maple Drake, the second victim and the youngest at 29. "-would not make such a huge mistake."
Fin frowned at her. "Personal preference?"
"He's a neat freak."
Stabler spoke up. As with his partner, amusement painted his tone. "You mean he wears them just to keep it clean?"
"I'd bet on it."
Olivia shook her head. "That goes against the type of guy we have pegged for these attacks."
Elle swallowed. "Then maybe you should rethink your description based on the MO."
She took in the reactions from the detectives and their captain. With the exception of Fin, they were not thankful, or even thoughtful, reactions.
"Please," she added.
* * * * *
Elle splashed freezing cold water onto her flushed face. She could not remember being this angry since...
Well, since her first week at Homicide. All the practical jokes they pull on rookies was maddening. But even that was no where as infuriating as one's ability being questioned. And having what could be pertinent information, and being, for all intents and purposes, ignored.
What's wrong with these people?, she thought to herself as she looked into her own eyes through a streaked and grimy mirror. They spend how long bitching and moaning about being shorthanded? Then when they are given someone with a little extra insight to the human mind they just... just...
Elle let out a low, audible growl, then took a deep and calming breath. She stared at herself resolutely in the mirror. They would eventually come to except her. Even that hard ass, Munch. She just had to ride out the bumps and press out the kinks.
She dried her face and left the bathroom, heading back to the squadroom.
A few feet from the entranceway she stopped, overhearing the heated conversation within.
"Of course she's gonna be right about this." said Stabler. "She's the one with the experience in this area."
She could barely hear Munch's softer reply. "What makes her so much more qualified? We've been here how many years? Done this how many times? She comes in on her first day and wants to completely reconfigure our case?"
Cregan stepped in. "We're just gonna hear what she thinks. Whether you like it or not, she is an official part of this team until she's removed. Let's make good use of her until then."
Until I'm removed? Until? They really do want me out of here as much as I want to be gone.
"Just get IAB out of your mind for now, John."
IAB? What do they have to do with me?
"That's just it, Elliot. As long as she's here, we can't. If she wasn't sent from the commission, then it wouldn't be a problem."
There was an outburst of voices and Elle decided now was as good a time as any. She walked into the room, everyone quieting and looking at her from their desks.
Cregan, skimming over the markerboard's information, spoke up as she headed to her desk. "We were just discussing your observations, Miss Seymour. I don't suppose you'd care to give us your impressions briefly."
She sat down. Here was her chance. "Okay. I haven't read up on the case files yet, so I've only got the basics. What I've learned today and through the media coverage. I'm not sure what you're currently looking for, but a man who's not too handsome, somewhat on the unsightly side might be a good start. Not at all suave, and very self-conscious."
Munch smiled at her. "We've got that, doctor."
She gritted her teeth imperceptibly at the 'doctor' comment as Munch continued.
"We have the MO as someone possibly faking an injury to get the assistance of random married women."
"I don't know that they are random though, Detective."
Olivia crossed her arms. "Are you saying he knows these women personally?"
"He might. Or he could follow them until he finds out little details that not only make it easier for him, but might help him decide if the prey's the right size for the hunter."
Cregan cut in. "What is it exactly, if anything, that makes you think these women aren't just random victims?"
"Exactly? The hands are always left outstretched and clasped together. I'm sure the significance of this was not lost on you, but I don't think you really delved into want it represents. Though crudely done because they're dead, it's still the classic symbol of prayer. It indicates your Weekend Rapist believes his victims have sinned and were begging for forgiveness in their lives. He believes that their souls are still begging for that same forgiveness in their deaths. If this man sees himself as one of God's righteous few, then he might also believe that he has punished these women for what they've done. Therefore, he puts their hands in this position in an effort to help them in atonement."
"Atonement for what sins?" asked Fin.
"I don't know. Maybe these were all women that cheated on their husbands."
Munch cut in. "Anthony didn't have a husband."
"This murderer didn't know that. He could have seen Renee Anthony grabbing a stolen kiss here and there."
Olivia shook her head. "That doesn't fit with what we know about Anthony."
Elle thought for a moment. "Well, maybe it was the fact she lived alone. If this guy followed her home, he would have noticed a lack of husband, or an absence of any male influence. He might have seen this as her choosing to leave or be apart from her husband. It's possible he's a divorcee himself. Or all the women in his life have left him. You know."
Stabler nodded, following Elle's lead. "Mother could've died when he was a young child. Same with his grandmother. Girls could have found him unattractive in high school, college. The usual."
"Right."
"Okay," started Cregan sarcastically. "A homely divorcee who has bad relationships with women in general."
Everyone but Elle looked over at Munch. "Hey. I resent the homely comment."
Cregan looked back to Elle. "That's gonna be really hard to find in New York. But just in case there happens to be more than one, have you got anything more specific? Attitudes, behaviors, habits?"
"Since your second victim was found in her own apartment, he probably knew her."
"Sandra Drake. We figured that one out already as well."
Elle looked over at Munch, eyes conveying her annoyance. "Congratulations, Detective. You wanna smiley face or a gold star?"
He smiled at her frustrated reaction.
Damn it, Elle, she thought. Never let them know they get under your skin. First rule of kindergarten.
"No thanks. But if you've got a green one..."
Elle looked back over to her new captain. "You most likely have picked up on the rest. Until I read the files I really can't say much, though from the symbolism of the hands, he's probably very religious. He probably has a normal nine to five job, only becoming this avenger on the weekends. As for his MO, it seems like you've got it. He tricks women into trusting him, then takes over, asserting his power. At the end he executes them for what he sees as their wrong doing, which could be adultery. Or, if the women were faithful and just completely random victims-"
"With the exception of number two." Fin added.
"Their sins, in his mind could be as simple as being the type that would ignore him. Notice how they're all very pretty women, probably around his own age. They could look like the type of women he himself is attracted to."
"So," started Olivia. "If he's attracted to them, and they're married, he's found his victim."
"Possibly."
"You're sticking to the 'unfaithful wives' bit?"
"I'm not sticking to anything until I've read the file."
Cregan nodded. "Anything else?"
"Just something I caught earlier. I mentioned he could be a neat freak. With the pains this man goes through to get these women in the correct postures I'd say he keeps pictures of the crimes."
Munch's eye traveled to the pictures on the board. "That would make sense. Neat freaks to the point of anal retentiveness don't have a reputation for being the most imaginative people. So a token of his deeds wouldn't be good enough. He'd actually have to see what he did, not just visualize it."
"Right." Elle smiled inwardly at the fact that, whether or not it had been a conscious effort, Munch had just included her in the group.
Maybe there's hope after all.