1I hang up the phone, after a conversation with an ER nurse at St. Catherine's Hospital. "Our vic's still out of it - she's not going to be talking for a while. But we got our guy, anyway." I shrug and get up from my chair. I tilt my head to look at my partner. "Do you think he's sweating by now?"
He grins. I know he loves playing the bad cop. "Whaddya say we go check?"
"Yeah. This time, I wanna be the bad cop, though. Standing against the mirror looking bored isn't gonna work with this guy." I run my fingers through my hair.
"It works every other time. You standing there, looking bored out of your brain scares the hell out of them - you're not scared of 'em." Elliot protests.
"He's had women under his thumb for most of his life - to get him to crack, I gotta get in his face. I gotta piss him off."
"Liv, you hate playing the bad cop." He looks at me, sideways.
"You think me looking bored is an act? Sometimes it's real. Watching you throw stuff around and yell really gets dull after seeing it how many times? It doesn't change. If you get in his face, like you usually do, he's gonna draw you into a pissing match. The guy mighta creeped me out, but I never said he was stupid. If I get into his face, he's gonna get pissed enough to slip up. He's not gonna scare me into doing anything - I'm outta his control."
"You been working overtime with a shrink or something?" Elliot questions, puzzled.
I grin. "Nah. My friend's baby brother is just out of the Army and he's a psych major at Columbia. He'll call me, randomly, to ask me about a real-world example of this or that. Most of the nut jobs we get are schizophrenics off their meds, so I haven't seen that much. I try to tell him that but he just keeps calling me - I think he's looking for a date, but he's too damn scared to ask for it outright."
"Well, duh. You scare the hell out of people." He comments, but I hear the laugh in his voice.
"I only do that when I want to." I stretch and turn my head to grin at him.
I reach for the interrogation room door and step in, careful to slam it shut behind me. It's all a part of my act. A woman who's going to scare him into a corner. He jumps in that steel chair, looking at me. Then he smiles, slowly. I repress the shudder, simply staring him down.
He's cut his hair since the last time I saw him, when he was my mother's neighbor and he's older, his dark hair greying at the temples, with a few more lines on his face, but Kevin Logan still creeps me out. I cross my arms over my chest and whip a photo from the file I brought in. It's an autopsy photo of Amanda Morris.
He looks at me, questioning. "Detective, I don't"-
"She's dead. Strangled. See? And in that old, abandoned house where they found her, we found your fingerprints. Wanna explain that to me, why your fingerprints would be in a house that old?"
"I don't know."
I smile. Perps seem to think that if they repeat those three words: 'I don't know' that we'll lose interest in them. But we know it usually means they're lying. "Her name was Amanda, Kevin. Amanda Morris." I pull out the second autopsy photo, trying to keep calm for now. "She was strangled, too - her name was Julie Carter. You raped them, you strangled them and you dumped one in Brooklyn and one in Manhattan. And what was this?" I swallow, as I pull out Nora's autopsy photo. "Were you taunting us? Dumping the body of a cop you killed outside the precinct that was working the cases of these women. You know what? Her name was Nora. Nora Ross. She was a mother and a cop."
"I didn't"- he begins, but I cut him off.
"You're damned lucky I didn't let my partner or my boss at you, Kevin. See, in the Department, we're kind of a family. And the guys get really angry, when a cop is killed. They get pissed even when a cop is wounded by a dirtbag like you. Ever go into an ER?"
"Yeah. A couple of times."
I lean against the wall and offer him an unnerving smile. "When there's a bunch of guys in blue, in the hall, you've got a wounded cop somewhere in that hospital. After a while, after they deal with the family, the wife and kids or the parents, they hit the streets and start looking for the guy. They don't quit, either. I know the guys that Nora worked with and they're gonna be out looking for you. Some of those guys, man - you don't wanna mess with 'em when they're pissed. One of their own being killed is really gonna piss 'em off."
"I didn't do anything!" He protests.
"Explain your prints in the house where a dead body was found!" I lean in, hands braced on the table, to get in his face.
He leans back in his chair. "I remember you, Detective. You've grown up and it shows"- he runs an appreciative glance over my body that makes me shudder again- "but I know you. Big eyes, long dark hair and that innocent little smile. Your mother was the drunk that lived above me. My wife pitied you and so did I, sometimes."
"I don't want your pity, dirtbag." I slam my hand down on the table, making him jump again. "You're a spineless little pervert - that's what you are. You get off choking the lives out of these women, huh!" I stride away from the table, walking to the other side of the room.
He ignores me. "I watched you grow up. It went from Barbies and ribbons, to braces and boys, didn't it? I used to watch them, hovering around the door. You had some sort of power over them, even though you were constantly tripping over your own feet. You know, you still have that power over men."
I clench my hand so hard my nails bite into my palm. I want to hit him. I shove the other hand into my pocket and tuck my hair behind my ear before I do anything stupid.
"But you also had a temper. I used to hear you and your mother fighting."
"Teenage girls fight with their mothers." I murmur. "It happens."
"You disappeared, for a few years, then you came back, out of nowhere. You were an adult and you were gorgeous."
"I went to college, Kevin. Didn't you hear my mother throw me out?" I'm not gonna let him bait me. I'm not gonna let him get to me.
"You were a beauty - you still are. But you didn't even notice me."
I roll my eyes. "I was twenty-one. I wasn't interested in my mother's thirty-something neighbor."
"But you wouldn't even acknowledge me."
"You wanna know why! Do you! The only reason I even came back was to tell my mother that her baby brother was dead. And when I told her that, she drank herself so deep into a hole that she didn't even show up for the funeral. You know when and how my uncle died, don't you?
"I don't."
I shake my head. "You dumped Julie's body on the grave where my mother, her brother, and her brother's wife are buried and you stalked me for at least three years - I think you know a lot. You tattooed my uncle's badge number and mine onto Julie's shoulder, in the same spot where I have a tattoo - how did you know about that?"
He grins, wickedly. "When you came back to see your mother, you were wearing this little tank top - I saw that tattoo. It says a lot about you. You're a strong woman."
"Why me?" I rub my eyes. "What the hell did I ever do to piss you off? Huh?"
Kevin smiles, again. That smile is really starting to bug me. It makes me want to wipe it off his face. "You. . .. I've had my eye on you for years. I used to hang out in the bars, when you went out with your friends and watch the guys practically fall out of their seats to take a look. You're gorgeous and you know it."
"Yeah? Well, guess what? You're too old for me. I've seen your DOB - it's in your yellows. '53 - you're almost fifty-two. There's thirteen years between us- I was born in '66 and I don't really like dating older guys."
"I know."
I shake my head. I don't like this. He's way too calm. When I got in his face, it should have rattled him more than it did. I look back toward the window, hoping someone's watching and catching my sign that something's up.
He pushes back the chair and gets up, walking toward me. I take a step back, looking at him. "What do you want, Kevin?"
"Who's out there?" He demands, nodding toward the mirror.
"I don't know. My boss or my partner, maybe our Assistant District Attorney - I'm not sure. They can see in, but we can't see out."
Something flickers in his eyes. I reach behind me for the cuffs, instantly. I need to get this under control and get him to sit back down. "Listen - sit down and we can keep talking." I fumble with the snap holding the handcuffs in place at the back of my belt. His hand comes up out of nowhere and hits me hard across the face.
My eyes water and my vision blurs from the blow and he takes advantage of that, forcing me back against the stone wall. Damn it. Now I'm really screwed. I've got my right arm trapped between my back and the wall and my left arm pinned by his hand. He uses his free hand to hit me again, across the face. I spit the blood rushing into my mouth into his face and he curses, giving me a furious look.
I try to wiggle my right arm out. If I can get it free, I can fight him off. What the hell are they doing out there? Why haven't they come through that damned door? Someone should have come in here the second he hit me. Unless there's no one watching. Oh, shit. He'll be able to beat the crap out of me, if that's true.
I feel his hand on my right side - looking for the gun. Thank God I left it in my desk before I came in. He curses, when he discovers my empty holster. I struggle and thrash, trying to free myself, but he's just too damned strong. I didn't understand how he could take down four women, one of them a working cop, at his age, but now I understand. He's stronger than he looks.
He looks at me and shakes his head. "You don't know how to give up, do you?"
"Damn right." I hiss back, trying to pull my right hand free. My cell is still in my pocket - I can feel it. If I can get that hand free and get him distracted, I might be able to make a call.
His free hand, the one that's not holding me works on the buttons of my shirt. "You know what I don't understand?" He comments. I glare at him.
"I don't understand why you dress like you do." He opens one button, then a second. I bite my lip. Oh, hell, no. This isn't going to happen. I'm not going to let it happen. Where the hell are they out there? I want to scream, to draw their attention, but I know that if I start screaming, it'll just get him going. I'm gonna keep my mouth shut and pray someone walks by the mirror.
I feel his hand slowly begin to slip inside my shirt and I shiver. No. I drive my foot into his shin, as hard as I can. That distracts him for a minute or two, but he's looking at me again. The look in his eyes makes my blood run cold.
I bite my lip. It's not going to happen. I'm not going to let him beat me and break me. "Kevin." I decide to try and talk to him. It's worked before with perps. "Listen. Let me go." I keep my voice as calm and level as I can.
"Not now. I've had my eyes on you too long." He gives me a smile that sends the shivers through me.
"You don't wanna do this." I tell him, quietly. "Believe me, you do not wanna do this. Remember what I told you about what happens when a cop gets hurt? The guys that they work with get really pissed off. You don't wanna deal with my partner when he's pissed, trust me."
"Shut the hell up, bitch!" He hits me again, across my face. I should have known he seemed way too calm. He wasn't pissed off - he was just talking to me. I should have known he was wound way too tight. "You don't wanna do this." I repeat.
"Don't tell me what I do and don't want to do!" He yells at me again and I brace myself for another blow. But it doesn't come. I feel his hand wandering down my body and sink my teeth into my lip. Why the hell hasn't that door gone flying open yet? Did they really think they could leave me in here alone with this nutcase?
I'm very slowly beginning to free my right hand. Just a little more and I'll have it free from behind me. He moves his hand from my arm and before I can react, he's got it pressed against my throat. My left arm's numb and useless, by my side.
He's choked women to death with his bare hands.
That thought sends more adrenaline through my body. I shove my right hand into my pocket and while he's distracted with looking at me, I pull my phone out, flip it open and hit one of the speed dial buttons. It's Elliot's cell. I can't drop it without damaging it, so I shove it back into my pocket, still open. I shudder, as he slips a hand under my shirt, grazing my bare skin. "You know, if you gave me half a chance, Detective, I could treat you like the lady you are. But you won't. You won't even pay attention to me."
I bite my lip, reaching around with my right hand, to grab his wrist and stop him, but he's too fast. He feels my movement and yanks his hand out from under my shirt, catching my right arm and pinning it the same way he did my left. I claw at the hand on my throat with my free left hand and he pins that one again. Now I'm screwed. But he can't touch me. I yelp, when he puts more pressure on my arms and he grins. "I wondered how long it would take you to break."
I ignore him, hearing running footsteps. Here comes the cavalry - finally.
The door bangs open and he's dragged off me. I see a hand on my left arm, but I can't feel it. All I feel is the numb, tingling pins and needles. I hear Cragen's familiar gravelly rumble: ". . . . under arrest for assault on a police officer. . . ."
"Liv? You with me?" It's Elliot's hand on my arm.
"Yeah." I slump down the wall, slowly and he kneels beside me.
"Are you hurt?" He asks, concerned.
"My head's freaking killing me." I manage to answer him. "Just give me a minute or two and a couple of Aspirin and I'll be fine. Where the hell were you? He damn well beat the shit outta me."
He shakes his head. "I know. I'm sorry. I was out there for a while - you know, you make playing the bad cop look easy. Then Munch came down the hall - he had Kathy's lawyer on hold. I had to go take that and by the time I got off the phone, you'd somehow managed to call me."
"You okay?" It's Cragen, asking this time.
"Yeah. I think so."
"How the hell did that happen?"
"I could ask the same damn thing." I lean back against the wall, closing my eyes. "Someone should have been out there, watching."
"Chief of D's called." The boss sighs. "He wanted to know about our conviction rates and solve rates, our cold cases - stuff like that to pass on the Commissioner and the Deputy Chief. How'd it happen?"
"He got up and I got this feeling that something wasn't right, so I went for the cuffs. I was too slow getting them and he hit me. He pinned me, after that and I didn't have that much of a chance then . . .. " I open my eyes and describe the whole incident again. I rub my left arm, trying to bring some of the feeling back to it.
"If your hand was behind your back and he was holding you, how'd you make the call?" Don looks at me. I left out a couple of details, accidently, I think.
"I got my arm out from behind me and when he wasn't looking, when he was distracted, I grabbed the phone, hit speed dial and put it back in my pocket. He wasn't really paying attention, then, so I was able to pull it off." I study my right hand. I scraped it all to pieces on the wall, but I really don't care. It stopped him from doing to me what he did to four women that we know of.
"You're sure you're all right?" Elliot asks me, worried. I can see the concern on his face. He wants to touch me, but he doesn't want to get too close with the boss watching.
"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. I just need to go wash my mouth out and swallow a couple of Aspirin." I use the wall to push myself up to my feet and hear the clatter of steel on something hard. When I got up, I kicked the handcuffs I dropped. I bend to pick them up and my head throbs in protest. I hook them back on my belt and walk out of the room.
The lights in the main squadroom hurt my eyes. I feel like I have one hell of a migraine. My head's throbbing, even though he never hit me in the head - it doesn't make sense. Elliot tosses me a bottle of Aspirin from his desk and I catch it, going into the bathroom.
Inside the bathroom, I get a couple of paper towels and wipe the blood off my lower lip and chin and wash out my mouth with a mouthful or two of water. I swallow the pills, then look at myself in the mirror. My right cheek is swollen, completely - I can feel the bruise that's going to be there, already. My lower lip is swollen, too. The left side of my face isn't much better than the right. At least I don't have a black eye. There are bruises on the inside of both my forearms, but they aren't as heavy as the ones on my face.
Munch and Fin both look at me when I come from the bathroom. Munch crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. "You trying something new with your makeup, Liv?"
"No." I throw him an annoyed look and walk back to my desk. Cragen's on the phone in his office again, with the door open; I can hear him talking.
"Liv, I'm sorry I wasn't watching." Elliot comments, looking at me.
I shake my head. "It's only a few bruises, El. Three women lost their lives and a fourth was raped because of that nutcase. I think I got off pretty damn lucky. But I should have known he was wound way too tight."
"But he was calm." My partner protests.
"Yeah. Too damned calm." I reply.
When Cragen emerges from his office, I sigh. "Cap, you mind if I take the rest of the day?" I question. I just want to go home and curl up in bed or on the couch. I don't think I can last the rest of the day, after this.
"Yeah. Go ahead."
I leave my files and open my locker, taking what I need from there and grab my coat. I'm almost to the door when Elliot follows me. "Liv, if you need anything or if you start feeling crappy, call me." He remarks, walking out with me.
"Why do you think you're on my speed dial?" I question, as we step into the elevator.
He walks with me to the door and kisses my forehead. "Can I stop by, after work? Or do you wanna be alone?"
I look at him. "You can stop in, if you want to. I don't really wanna be alone." It's true. After this, I don't want to be alone.
Elliot nods, understanding. "You want me to drive you home? Promise me that if something doesn't feel right, you'll call me?"
"Promise." I link my fingers with his. "You know, I wouldn't mind a drive - I just don't think I can pull it off, with this damned splitting head of mine. You'll just have to give me a lift in the morning."
He steers me out and guides me to sit in the passenger seat. We make the drive in silence. I know he's kicking himself over letting me get beat up, even though it wasn't his fault. But I also know that I can't convince him of that. The man has a stubborn streak that is frustrating to deal with. Whatever I say to him right now, he won't hear a word of it.
He walks me upstairs and makes sure I'm comfortable, dressed in pajamas, curled up on the couch. "Liv?"
"Mm?" I wrap my hands around the cup of tea I made myself. Caffeine is something I don't need right now. I'm trying to cut back on the crap, as it is. Then maybe Munch won't be able to kill me, if I stop drinking his coffee.
"You know, I can take you to the ER, get you checked out, if you want."
"Nah. I'm okay." I run my fingers through my hair. "Trust me. I'm fine. I'll call you, if something goes wrong."
He sighs, standing in front of me. "Okay. I don't want you pulling any kind of heroics crap."
"I'll be fine. I promise." I manage to smile at him.
He nods and kisses me again, before he leaves.
I'm alone. I curl up at the edge of the couch and pull the blanket I got from my closet around me. I felt so helpless, pinned there. And I'm a cop. I'm not supposed to be helpless. But I was. I close my eyes. I can still feel his hand beneath my shirt, on my skin. And he was obviously enjoying every minute, as I struggled. If I'd been in a different place, what happened to my mother could have happened to me. I could have been another victim.
I lie back on the couch and close my eyes, pulling the blanket tight around me. I'm not going to think about what could have happened – I've taught myself not to do that – it just makes me crazy.
