Disclaimer: The characters of the fabulous LO: CI belong to Dick Wolf and the NBC, not me.

Authors note: Can you believe it? They are going to kick Vincent out of the show!! A man named Chris Roth is taking his place. Show your support of our fave Bobby Goren by registering at

The site's being a bastard at the moment so i can't get section-breaks. Sorry for the confusion.

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Chapter eight: The Takedown

Please, he prayed. Please work.

When he was six, Robert Goren had been in the church choir. His mother was extremely religious, and she would have it no other way. But then when he was seven, his mother was admitted to Carmel Hill Institution. Scared and confused, young Bobby had left the church to be with his mother, and though as the years went by he realized that nothing would make his mommy 'normal' again, his faith in God that she would not leave her three children was rewarded with the cherished time they spent together.

Now he thanked the heavens again, not for the first time that day, as he watched the latent print-powder slowly reveal the whorls and arches of a perfect fingerprint.

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Goren waltzed confidently into Carver's office, shoving the Polaroid of the fingerprint plus matching AFIS results under his nose.

"James Burkhart. 3 Szold place," he said as Carver read the same thing on the piece of paper.

Carver narrowed his eyes. "Where did you get this?"

"I went back to the Stanton's house. For that killing, the perp – Burkhart," he corrected himself, "didn't wear gloves. We could have got the print much earlier off the victim's skin but Latents left it too long."

It was possible to gain prints from skin, up to two and a half hours after contact. After that however the prints become mingled with the victims own perspiration and they are lost. Goren continued, "Anyway, I was searching their backyard, and I had a thought."

The door opened and Eames walked in, returning from her stake-out at the perp's hide out. "Look's like I'm not too late for the Great Goren's Mysterious Hunch," she said jokingly.

Bobby glanced at her to take a seat, and he continued. "He cut the electrical wires right? To disconnect the power and lead Carla Stanton outside?"

Eames nodded. Carver looked amused at the double-team act that was going on between the two detectives.

"The wires are hidden in a metal box, and to cut them the perp had to open the box – using his hands because the door opens upwards and to the side, so he couldn't've used a stick or anything." Goren smiled. "And I got an A-Grade print off it. Burkhart didn't wear gloves for his first murder."

The ADA sighed as he picked up the phone. "I'll get you your warrants, detective; you get me the takedown team."

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Running, running.

No, no, no! Get out get out get out get out out out!

The eyes, the feeling…of burning on his neck…the thoughts of what people…were…thinking

He couldn't stand it.

Get away away!

You know who did this, don't you? Said the voices, a coy, laughing voice in his head.

It was her, the old lady. The one with the cats. She told them who you are, what you look like…

She knows what you were doing.

Oh, he thought. Of course! Her.

Her, her, her…

The one who made everything so inconvenient

And he found himself at her window, the harsh light of the midday sun shinning in his eyes and reflecting off the mottled glass in the rotten wood frame.

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Black vans sped through the side streets.

This was a more circuitous route to the perp's location but Special Agent in Charge Cooper knew what he was doing; he had been the head of the NYPD's SWAT team and Special Operations division for over ten years. Cooper, in the back of the lead van, tightened the Velcro strap on his body armor. They were less than ten minutes away.

As they sped along he looked at the failing apartments, the trash filled lots. He also looked at his men and women, the members of his elite team, renowned throughout One Police Plaza. Beside him sat Robert Goren, an excellent detective but a bit on the shy side in social confrontations. Cooper often reflected on how many police officers felt safer in a tactical situation – Glocks or Smitties at their sides whilst the perp could be coming up stealthily behind them – but utterly detested social meetings of any kind.

He felt the tension that had been mounting since they left Police Plaza suddenly turn into nervous energy amongst his solemn soldiers as the driver called out, "Show time."

The van turned down Szold place. Most of the streets they had passed in Alphabet city had been filled with sweating residents, clutching cool beer bottles and cigarettes, hoping for a breath or two of cool air.

But this one was dark, empty.

The vans cruised to a silent halt, and two dozen agents spilled from the doors, carrying their H&Ks equipped with muzzle lights and laser sights.

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The old woman tottered around her apartment, banging cupboard doors and slamming pots on the stove.

Clearly she didn't think lightly of the police endangering her life.

And rightly so, he thought.

He felt the hot prickle of eyes burning their gaze into the back of his neck. He turned to see a face disappear behind the curtain of a neighbouring house.

Shit, oh shit…breath coming fast, heart pounding painfully in his chest.

He couldn't be caught now! He was so close to his goal…

He could wait no longer.

Lifting up the grimy old window, he stepped into the kitchen to the music of the old woman's haunting screams.

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Goren slowly got out of the car and adjusted his body armor, uncomfortable and hot.

He and SAC Cooper had put together a thirty-man assault on Burkhart's residence in twenty minutes. Two teams of nine plus Search and Surveillance; three snipers, with their big Remingtons strapped, locked and loaded lay prone on the rooftops.

"Surveillance and Command," heard Bobby through his radio, "We've got infrared on the basement. Somebody's moving down there. Can't tell what; just got motion and heat."

"Alright," called Cooper. "This's one sick mother-fucker in there, people. We don't get him, he's gunna keep killing till we do. So I want all teams through but our guy might not be in there, so try as hard as possible to leave a clean scene for CS and the Detectives, okay people? Alright. Let's go! Deploy, deploy, deploy!"

The first team took out the front door with a battering ram and the second team, Bobby's team, used the slightly more civilized approach of broking the back-door window and unlocking the deadbolt.

They scoured the house, but eventually the calls began to radio in that the house was clear and secure.

It was only then that Goren allowed his mind to relax and take in the scene around him.

Books. Millions upon millions of books. Three cabinets were filled with them in this room alone. Goren stood in awe at the collection he faced; a reader and great lover of books, he had never some across anyone who loved books as much as he. Now it seems he had a match.

He forced himself to concentrate again. He was in the study, off the long and dirty hallway. A brown wooden desk stood in the corner and beside it a chair. He noted the scuff marks underneath it, and the way the cushion on the seat had been worn away and flattened so that it sloped down towards the desk.

"He reads," he muttered. Seeing the pens that littered the desk he added, "And he writes too."

The pens were all chewed, nib to top. Often people did this when they were anxious or thinking hard about something.

The he noticed that one shelf of the bookcase closest to the desk was entirely devoted to black, A3-size books.

"Oh, my God," Eames breathed as she came into the room. "Was is this, the Library?"

Bobby gave a small smile but his attention was on the black books. "Diaries, Eames. He keeps a diary."

Pulling one out of the cabinet, he flipped it open and read, ' "I can't believe I let this happen. It just went out of my control. She found out. What else could I do?" It's dated November 13th. The week before Carla Stanton was killed." He turned more of the pages. "It details the murder, his reasons…but it's like a defense. He says he had to, to protect himself." He got to the end of the book, pulled out the next one.

"This one started yesterday. He…oh. God. Eames, we've got to get over there! Agnes! He's going to kill her."

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Please review! Next chap up soon. Only two chapters left, but how will it end?