Title: Lost Girl
Author: Meghan-the-Melancholy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The dead body of a 16 year old girl is found raped and beaten, with no identification and witnesses to the actual crime, leaving it up to the SVU detectives to find the girl's murderer.
Author's Notes: This is my first Svu fic, so... be nice. No flames, por favor. If you do flame my ass... then I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too, bitch!
I'll warn you right now: there won't be an E/O pairing. There's too many. A few now and then are nice, but seriously. Every other story is about them. In my opinion, there's not enough Munch fics. He's the coolest mother fucker on the show, and he's got like zip. Except for Fin/Munch fics, but those are nasty as hell.
So... on with the story.
Disclaimer: Okay, I own NOTHING, except the characters you don't recognize. All SVU characters belong to Dick Wolf, that rich ass mother fucker. If you do decide to sue my poor ass, here is what you shall receive:
1.) 4 System of a Down shirts
2.) 1 bottle of black nail polish
3.) 1 black eye-liner
4.) 1 black eye-shadow
5.) $1.50
Yeah... so don't sue the poor freaky chick
Thank you all for replying. And a special thanks to Singing Daisy, who let me know they everyone is impatiently waiting for this chapter ;-)
Munch walked alone into the Special Victims precinct. Fin had run over to the ME's office to get the fingerprints of their Jane Doe in order to get a more exact search. The detective sighed, thinking. The girl was so young, and was already so established in the business.
'What I wouldn't give for the good old days, when a kiss on the lips was scandalous' he thought jokingly.
John's thoughts were interrupted, when Cragen popped out of his office as he walked by. The captain eyed Munch. "Where's Fin?" He asked, as they walked to Elliot's desk, where he and Olivia were.
"Getting Jane Doe's prints from Warner," Munch replied, "He's then heading off to the FBI database."
Both Elliot and Olivia looked intently at their partner. "Why the hell are you going to the Feds? You know what they'll do, John; those uptight bastards will march in and take over the entire investigation." Stabler warned, sliding off his desk. Munch sighed as he sat at his own desk, leaning back into his chair.
Cragen rolled his eyes. "Cool it, Elliot. You know that we, especially John, don't go to 'them' unless it's absolutely necessary." He told Stabler, calming him down, "What did we have so far?"
Olivia reached over to her desk, and held up the bag of jewelry. "Warner pulled this off our girl. El and I checked it out not too long ago; it's real diamonds. So the theory of our prostitute being just another girl on the street is out. I mean, the average street hooker would have sold these pieces a long time ago. There's got to be a pimp somewhere." She explained.
Elliot crossed his arms as he leaned against his desk. "She was also beaten; the body was covered with bruises and closed cuts." He began, "The cause of death was strangulation, and get this; there was a ten week old fetus in there. When Warner removed it, she found Jane Doe's uterus to be 'unusually thin'. In layman's terms: she's had a good amount of abortions."
"Makes sense," John interjected. Cragen looked over to Munch. "What did you and Fin find out?" He questioned.
The Jewish detective leaned forward in his seat, something he didn't do often. "We went to a nearby prostitute hang out; one of the girls recognized our vic from a Planned Parenthood clinic in Chelsea; said she came in every once in awhile." He clarified,
"We headed down to the clinic and met the head, Regina Simmons. She blew us off, but luckily, she had pissed off one of her own employees and we got the dirt from her. The Planned Parenthood worker is Kennedy Moran, a student at NYU. Moran says that Jane Doe had been coming for a year, six weeks; coincidently, after every one of the governor's get-togethers.
"She also made point," John continued, "that our girl's from the south. She even went as far as to call her 'Ellie May'. 'Ellie May' always came into the clinic with an unidentified blonde woman, and was stoned off her ass. Our girl's pro-life; it was the only way that her companion could bring her there, and even then, she lashed out.
"I'm telling you; she might be one of my ex-wives." He joked, causing Cragen to give him 'the looked'. John rolled his eyes and went on, "Once she gets her abortion over and done with, our elusive blonde pays the bills, and Regina Simmons with a little 'something extra' to keep her mouth shut.
"Good news, though; 'Ellie May' stopped by Planned Parenthood yesterday, clean and without the mystery blonde. She was pumped to have this kid. 'Ellie May' even went as far as to say that she and the baby's father were gonna get married and go back to her home, and the only indications of that home was something about the 'Ash Wednesday' events."
Elliot raised his eyebrow. "Ash Wednesday? Our Jane Doe was a religious fanatic?" He asked. John chuckled softly, and retorted, "What teenager do you know that rejoices in receiving their ashes? I'm thinking more along the lines of Fat Tuesday..."
"Mardi Gras," Stabler commented and continued, "A tradition originated in France by its Catholics. It was brought over by the French traders and, today, is most popular in New Orleans."
"Louisiana." Munch interjected, "Before heading over here, we called in Huang and he was able to set up a meeting between Fin and him as discretely as possible. That way, the Bureau can't touch us."
Olivia nodded her head, dropping the bag of jewelry on her desk. "Alright; all we need now are some names. But until we get them, we're gonna have to wait on Jane Doe." She commented.
"Amber Miller." A gruff voice called, causing the detectives to turn around. Fin stood there, a file at hand. He began taking steps towards his partners, as he continued, "Now, is this a match, or is this a match?"
From his pocket, he brought out the picture of their Jane Doe, her face dead and lifeless. Fin slipped his hand into the file, and held up a large picture of a young girl, no more than fourteen or fifteen. Her hair was long, the strawberry blonde locks resting past her shoulders. She wore a baby blue shit, bringing out her sky blue eyes. The girl was smiling softly, radiating an innocence.
She looked exactly like the Jane Doe.
Tutuola sighed, and went on, "According to her parents, Amber Miller ran away from her home in New Orleans last April. She was fourteen and a half with a fifteenth birthday in August. She would be sixteen now."
Cragen looked away from the picture and began towards his office. "Elliot, Olivia, get a hold of the Millers," He said quietly, and then focused on Munch, "Did Moran mention anything else that could lead us anywhere?"
John brought his hand inside his pocket and pulled out the notepad, with Kennedy's interview. He briefly skimmed through it, particularly the sections of when 'Ellie May' came in with the blonde, when he spoke, "Here's something; 'Then, the blonde bitch would always hit her and say "If it weren't for me, you'd still be working over in Sheep Head's Bay".' Obviously, she had been working Brooklyn long before Chelsea. Shame it was this area though; all the cusines¹ live there."
Fin sat on John's desk as he handed the file to Cragen. "Sheep Head's Bay? Around six years ago, I busted this dealer working there; Eddie Jackson. Further into it, it turned out that drugs weren't the only thing he was selling; one-third of his annual income was coming in from pimping. Last I heard he was released two years ago." He explained.
The captain nodded his head, and replied, "Alright; John, Fin, go check Jackson. See if old habits really don't die hard."
Monday, September 6th
Sheep Head's Bay, Brooklyn, New York
11:15 am
Fin and Munch walked down the old neighborhood, a primarily Italian one. The neighborhoods of Brooklyn weren't, for the most part, the best, but this one seemed to be peaceful enough. John relied on his partner to scout for Eddie Jackson. Fin canvassed the area with his dark eyes when he stopped walking.
Before them stood a group of men, clearly in their mid-twenties, as they puffed at their cheap cigarettes. They were a mix of races, but mostly African American and Sicilian. Fin pointed to a young ebony skinned man, his black hair cut short, who wore a light gray jacket and large blue jeans. He sipped from a bottle of water while laughing, most likely from something a friend said.
"There's our boy," Tutuola stated, glancing at his partner, "Eddie Jackson." Munch nodded, and they proceeded to the group.
They didn't go unnoticed, though. The group of young men all set their eyes on the detectives, giving icy stares. The young man known as Eddie Jackson spread his arms out, his eyes still on them.
"Well, well," Eddie began, walking up to Fin, "Detective Tutuola; long time, no see." Fin glared at Jackson, his expression clearly stating that he wasn't fooling around. The group was silent; the last time Fin and Eddie saw each other was when Jackson was sentenced to eight years in prison.
"If you're looking for a quick bust, Tutuola, you're looking in the wrong place. I'm clean now; I haven't dealt an ounce since you took my ass in back in '98." Eddie uttered, his friends agreeing in the background.
Fin rolled his eyes towards John, who sighed. "Quiet down!" Munch raised his voice, getting the boys' attention. Eddie scoffed at the older detective and quipped at Fin, "Yo, Tutuola, tell your ol' man not to talk to my boys like that!"
The former narcotics detective, obviously not wanting to deal with him, gave a small shove to Eddie and said coolly, "Watch it, Jackson; 'my ol' man' is a Jew from these parts." Eddie snickered and glanced at John.
"Listen, punk, we killed Christ²," Munch began, stepping closer to the group and observed them all through his black sunglasses, "Imagine what I could do to wastes like you. Now, if you really have nothing to hide, you'll answer our questions. That way, you can continue your 'riveting' activity of doing nothing."
Eddie looked back and forth between Munch and Fin. "Where's Robertson?" He asked Fin, looking at John through the corner of his eye. As if on cue, Fin's face flustered, as he shouted at the boy,
"Don't you say her name!"
Realizing his outburst, Fin calmed himself down into a collective manner. "I guess word on the street don't travel as fast as it used to. I left Narcotics four years ago; I'm working in Special Victims. The Jew on my right is my partner, Detective Munch." He explained.
Jackson nodded, and backed into the group of his friends. Eddie took a sip from his water bottle, and let the cool drink soften his throat. As he closed the bottle, he started, "I know Special Victims; they're the sex police. I'll tell you right now, off the record; yeah, I kept selling while I was locked up in Atticus. And I'll even admit that, yeah, I was planning my comeback once I got released. But that changed, man..."
Munch nodded, and interjected, "Care to give us the details?" Eddie glanced at John, and swallowed hard. "Because I ratted on some other dealers, they let me out after only serving four years. In the final days at Atticus, I got word of what was happening back in the bay from one of my boys..." He cut himself off and sighed,
"My little sister, Becca, was being bothered by this one bitch named 'Madam Selene'. She wanted her to 'work for her'. When I was pimping girls out, they were legal. But Becca... she was only fourteen years old, and that blonde bitch wanted to make her a ho!"
As if on cue, Fin and Munch looked at each other. Tutuola faced Eddie, and interrupted, "Jackson, have you ever seen this girl before?" Fin then pulled out the picture of Amber Miller at fourteen years old. Slowly, Eddie nodded.
"Yeah, I know her. That's Amber; she worked at the diner I work at now around a year ago." He commented, pointing to the diner across the street. John raised his eyebrows and questioned, "Really; how long have you been working there, sport?"
Eddie raised his left hand, sticking two fingers out. "Two years, I got hired three weeks after they released me. Amber was really good friends with Becca. But she was a runaway, ya know? Real Southern girl; we let her stay at our place and I even got her the job at the diner. She was a real sweet girl." He continued.
Fin nodded his head, and proceeded, "When was the last time you saw Amber?" Jackson sighed and answered, "Around late September of last year. Amber was nice, but she wasn't bright. Madam Selene came around one day and Amber caught her eye. That peroxide bitch tricked her into becoming a whore."
Munch scribbled the last of Eddie's statement onto the pad while asking, "Has this happened before, besides with your sister and Amber?"
"Yeah," A voice chimed from the group. Fin and Munch looked to there, where a Sicilian boy in his early twenties stood, holding a continually burning cigarette. Eddie looked at his friend and shook his head. "Tony... you ready to tell them about it?" He asked, with a slight nod as his response.
Tony, the black haired 6'0 boy, dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and crushed it under his sneaker. "Selene..." He began, but stopped, trying to gain some strength, "Selene actually got my sister, Theresa, for a whole year. I would have gotten her out, but Selene, she's got friends in high places, and she would have sent my ass to prison for dealing. Theresa cut a deal with her, and worked for her to keep me safe.
"So, I cleaned up and I got Theresa out of there as soon as possible. I told that bitch that 'she ain't got nothing on me' and not to come near my family again." He finished.
Munch sighed, writing the last of Tony's story. "Why didn't you come to us?" He asked the group, putting the pad away.
Eddie snapped his head towards John and said bitterly, "Who are you gonna believe: some loser kids from Sheep's Head Bay, or some bitch who deals out high class jail bait to corporation heads, senators, and kings?"
Fin stepped forward. "What did you just say?" He said quietly, surprised. Jackson looked around, and replied, "It's a known fact that Selene deals her girls to big time players. You could say that's her trademark. Anyone powerful that has a taste for school girls, they get their fix from her."
"Does that include governors?" Munch asked. Eddie nodded his head. "Yeah, I've heard about her dealing with some." He commented. The detectives nodded their heads, and Fin announced,
"Thanks, boys; that's it for now. We might be back."
And with that, they began to walk away. As they walked to their car, Fin turned to his partner. "You got a theory?" He asked, searching his pockets for his keys. John sighed, walking to the passenger side of the car.
"Let's just say that it wouldn't surprise me if the good ol' governors' visits and Amber's pregnancies were more than just a coincidence."
¹A cusine (pronounce 'coo-zheen') is a stereotypical middle aged New York Italian man. He's usually hairy and greasy, and his hair is slicked back with ¾ of a bottle of gel. They wear cheesy sports suits (usually they're untraditional colors) and they never wear ties.
Instead, the first four buttons of their shirt is open (showing off all their chest hair :-X) and they have like a thousand gold chains and the ever so classic "male pinky ring". They never wear socks, and they always wear low-cut brown loafers. You can always smell them, since they cover themselves in cheap cologne.
²I myself don't believe that the Jews killed Christ. It just seemed like something Munch would say. Just wanted to clear that up :-)
