1I sigh, studying the squadroom around me, bored. My partner disappeared into the boss's office, a little under a half-hour ago. And I haven't heard a peep since. I haven't heard any kind of an argument going on - that usually happens between those two, when they collide.
I turn my eyes to the sign on the upper wall of the precinct, below the ceiling. NYC Detectives. . . . The Greatest Detectives in the. . . . WORLD. Ha. It's the union's idea of a morale booster and I've seen a thousand of them, all over police precincts.
I glance back down from the sign, as my co-worker, Detective John Munch walks by. "Hey, Munch - you know what the Captain wants with Elliot?"
"Why should I know?" He asks, in his usual, annoying sarcastic manner that makes me want to punch him, sometimes.. "I'm as much out of the loop as you are, sweetheart."
"Munch, call me anything like that again and I'll kick your ass." I warn, catching a grin from his partner, Fin Tutuola. "But seriously - they've been in there a half-hour and when those two butt heads, you can hear it a mile away. Unless Cragen suddenly soundproofed his office"-
"They're not arguing. But I don't know what's going on."
Captain Donald Cragen's office door opens, catching my attention.. "Liv - c'mere." The boss meets my eyes. But they look the same as they always do - dark and stubborn, never showing what he's thinking.
I push my chair back and walk across the floor. He called me by my nickname, so things can't be that bad. "What'd I do this time?" I ask, expecting Cragen to at least give up a smile or something, but he only shakes his head. "Sit."
"What's up?" I take a chair and glance at my partner. Elliot Stabler returns my look and sighs. "What's going on?"
Cragen steps behind his desk and sits, running one hand over his bald head. "Before your time, about twelve years ago, we popped a guy on a string of rapes - we were only able to get him on five, but we're still not sure how many he actually did."
"Yeah. And is there a reason for all this hush-hush and calling me in here? If the case was before my time"- I shake my head, slowly. This doesn't make sense..
"That's what I said." Elliot comments. "The guy's name is Michael Lombardo - he was a rising star in some fancy law firm when we busted him - he was close to being made a partner. Daddy bought him the best attorneys in the state, but Abbie nailed him. Put him away for ten to fifteen."
"Lombardo. I know the name." I run my fingers through my hair and sigh..
"Yeah. You probably do. It was all over the papers." Cragen rearranges some paperwork.
"I stopped reading the papers years ago." I protest. "The ones in this city are nearly as bad as the damned tabloids, sometimes. So what's this got to do with me?"
"Lombardo's cell mate was acting as a prison snitch for the boys down at the 2-7 in exchange for a reduced sentence." Cragen sighs. "He was released this morning, on parole and this snitch went though the stuff Lombardo left behind. Van Buren sent it over, after her guys got it."
"What was it?" I lean back in the chair. I watch the look traded between two men - two who really do care for me. It was a look that said should we tell her or not? "Whatever the hell it is, tell me." I persist.
"Liv, you"-
"Whatever it is, just show me." I cut my partner off.
Cragen hands a file folder to Elliot, who sighs and hands it to me. I flip it open and bite my lip. There are a dozen sheets of plain notebook paper with some disgusting sexual scenario described on them - brief, short little paragraphs, involving me and this nutcase. His writing is perfect and neat - precise. I come across something else - a snapshot.
I wince, recognizing myself at seventeen. It's a photo taken by my then-boyfriend's mother, in her backyard. I was on his back, almost like a piggyback. I remember the ring he gave me that day, as a late birthday present. I wore it on my left hand, because according to our parents, we were too young to get engaged and get married, so he bought me what I called a promise ring.
"Oh, crap." I rub my hands over my face. My makeup's long gone - I haven't been home in three days and I've maybe gotten three hours sleep in the last forty-eight hours. We got slammed with a bunch of allegations against a teacher at a school and the guy took off, when he heard. We only found him and booked him this morning.
"What?" Elliot's leaning over my shoulder. "You know the girl?"
"Yeah. I know her really well. That's me when I was a teenager."
"What the hell?"
"Yeah. My boyfriend's mother took this, back then - must have been October of '83. I'd just turned seventeen, back in August. We wanted to get married, when we were still in high school, but his parents were dead against it and Mom - that was the one time she truly gave a damn about what I did. We dated on and off through high school and all the time I was in college and at the Academy. We were living in the same crappy apartment when I was a rookie on the job. I was bringing home thirty grand a year and he was a law student at Fordham - Daddy was paying for school, but nothing else."
"So why aren't you married to this guy?" Elliot tips his head to one side.
"Didn't work out. If I worked a few hours overtime for a little bit of extra cash to put away or to cover a bill or something, he got pissed off. If I went for a beer with the guys, he got pissed off. If I wanted to go have a good time with some friends of mine on a Saturday night, he'd fight me all the way to the door. He was a control freak. I couldn't take it anymore, so I left."
"And you haven't seen him since?" Cragen's got his hands folded in front of him.
"Nope. After I left, I never saw him again - Thank God."
"Guy got a name?" Elliot looks at me.
I swallow. "Michael Lombardo."
I watch my partner and the boss trade a look, again, and Elliot sighs. "Did you have any other reason for leaving him besides the whole control freak thing?"
I rub my eyes, remembering. "Yeah. It took me a long time to admit it to myself, but I was convinced when I left that he was stepping out on me, you know what I mean? That there was someone else."
"Do you have any clue where he's going to go, after this?" Cragen raises an eyebrow. "Now that he's out?"
"I haven't seen the guy in nearly twenty years." I protest, crossing my legs. "His mother was living out in Queens - she might still be there. His father came into money in the late '80's, in real estate and on the stock market - he's probably still be living out in the Hamptons. His big brother, Jimmy was living in Brooklyn, when Mike and I dated - I don't know what happened to Jimmy or where he's at. Then there's his little sister, Angie. She was living in Queens with Mom, when Mike and I broke up, but I think I remember her getting married, a few years ago."
"Did he ever do anything odd? Anything that didn't seem right? Did he ever threaten you?"
I glance back, startled by that voice. It's the shrink that works our cases, Dr. George Huang, as he steps into the office. "Besides him being a complete control freak? No. Honestly, I didn't notice anything. We were kids, doc. And I know he couldn't have gotten away with threatening me. His family basically took me in. I was one of theirs."
"Did they?" Elliot raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah. If Mike so much as yelled at me or said something that he shouldn't have said, his older brother and his father were both on him. Old school gentlemen, the father and the brother." I stifle a yawn.
"Olivia, go get some sleep." Cragen orders. "Elliot - finish the paperwork and try to run down this nutcase's family."
I step out of his office and start toward the stairs to the crib. I'm about to shut the door and drop onto a bunk, when I realize Elliot's still behind me. "What?" I demand, turning around.
He shuts the door and looks at me, seriously. "Liv."
"What?" I'm tired, worn-out and he's pissing me off.
"You remember telling me that you lost your virginity at seventeen? It was a while back - you remember?"
"Yeah. Believe me - I'm gonna remember that. Why?"
"Was it him? Lombardo?"
I glare at my partner. "I don't think you really need to know that, do you?"
"Olivia, I'm not asking you to embarrass you."
"Then why? What the hell does it matter? Why do you need to know who the first guy I had sex with was?"
He shakes his head. "I'm not asking you to embarrass you - you know that. I wouldn't be asking you if it wasn't important."
I sigh. "Fine. If you really think you have to know, it was him. But I still don't see what the big deal is."
He steps toward me. "Liv, I wouldn't be asking this, if I didn't think I needed to know."
And he wouldn't. I know him well enough to know that he respects my privacy and only asks personal questions like that, when he feels he has to. "Fine. You know what you gotta know - get lost so I can get some sleep."
He grins. "Got any eye drops downstairs?"
"On top of my desk." I reply, moving toward a bunk.
