[ Special Victims Unit
Squad Room
Sunday, July 18th ]

"What did the sisters tell you of the victim's actions the night before?" Captain Donald Cragen asked Elliot and Olivia in the unit's squad room.

Elliot shrugged, glancing at the captain from where he stood at the coffee machine, fixing himself a cup. "Not much. She ate dinner with them, attended evening service and then retired for the night."

"Any ideas for who might have killed her?"

"Are you kidding?" John Munch asked from where he sat on the edge of his desk, looking at Cragen from over the top of his tinted glasses. "These are the ladies who help out at women's shelters, homeless shelters, and orphanages. They're walking saints. They have no enemies."

"Well, it was obviously religiously motivated," Dr. George Huang, their resident forensic psychiatrist, said as he looked up from flipping through what had been compiled so far in the case file. "Look at the passage from the Bible that was quoted on the wall. 'And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.' The killer removed the victim's heart from her body. He felt that part of her body was offensive, that it would keep her from entering into Heaven." Huang shook his head, closing the file. "Or maybe it was what her heart made her feel that was what he believed was wrong. At any rate, he took it with him because he didn't want it to be present, to prevent her from being judged by it."

"Would he keep it?" Olivia asked.

Huang shrugged. "It's a possibility, although it's more likely that he disposed of it because he believed it to be tainted by evil. He either knew the victim well, or believed he did. He's concerned for her eternal soul and through killing her the way he did, he's pleading with God to forgive her and accept her into Heaven."

"Well, that's one place he's not going to be setting foot into any time soon," Munch commented with a deadpan expression.

"What set him off?" Fin asked from where he sat.

Huang shrugged. "It's impossible to tell at this point."

Elliot walked over to his desk from the coffee machine, sipping at his steaming cup of the heavily caffeinated beverage. "So, if he's a religious nut, why'd he kill on Sunday? Last time I checked with my priest, that's a major no-no."

"That's funny. I was under the assumption that killing anytime was up there in the big list of don'ts." Munch joked.

Huang thought for a moment. "Well, he could be killing on a Sunday to call special attention to the deed from God."

Cragen held up a hand to stop anyone else from speaking. "I think what I'd like to know the most is; will he kill again?"

"Most definitely. He believes he's on a mission to cleanse the faith and now that he's started, I don't think he'll be easily stopped."

"'We're on a mission from God.'" Elliot quoted into his coffee cup.

Huang smiled. "Something like that, Elliot. And it's because of that belief that when he finds another person whose soul he thinks needs to be cleansed, he will kill again. Although, he might only do it on Sundays because of the religious significance, even kill again tonight."

"Whatever happened to those good old confessionals for cleansing souls?" Munch asked sarcastically. "If memory serves me, they're a lot less painful and a great deal less messy."

"What about the necrophilia?" Olivia inquired.

"I think it was sideline, something he never meant to happen," Huang answered, "CSU reported that the killer tried to clean up the body as best he could to eradicate all evidence that anything of that nature occurred. He's probably very ashamed that he committed such blasphemy."

"Well, even if the guy's not going to attack until next Sunday, I'd like you all to get to work now on finding him so we can put him away before someone else dies," Cragen growled, "Munch, Fin; you two start checking in with the staff of the church. See if they all check out okay. Elliot, Olivia; visit the places where the sister worked frequently. Try to find out if the impossible happened and someone actually had a grudge against the vic."

. . .

Munch and Fin stood in the hot kitchen of the church, both sweaty and very irritated. For the last hour, they had been questioning the handful of employees the church had and none had been forthcoming in any way. "I don't see why we bother," Fin growled angrily. "They each say the same goddamn thing. Everyone loved Sister Abigail, they can't imagine who would want to do this, and no, they haven't seen anyone suspicious around her or her room. The only thing these guys wanna talk about are their life stories and how the nuns have been so kind to them." Fin sneered.

Munch looked over the rims of his glasses at his partner. "You do realize that they're probably so close-mouthed because the majority of them are in this country illegally? The only reason they're still here and employed is because of the pity and mercy of the good sisters."

Fin shook his head. "Who's next on the list?"

Munch took a copy out of his pocket of the paper that the Mother Superior had given Elliot and Olivia. He glanced it over. "A Mr. Abdullah Ali."

Fin looked around the staff working in the kitchen. He noticed a young man hunched over a cutting board. His facial features, color of his hair and skin marked him to be of Arabic descent. "I think that's him over there." Fin said, jerking his head in the man's direction.

Munch nodded and pocketed the paper as the two detectives walked through the kitchen to stand near the man. "Hey, can we talk to you for a minute?" he asked.

The man looked up and saw the badges they held up and nodded. "Sure." He wiped his hands off on a nearby cloth and led them to a little door at the back of the kitchen that opened to a small, cool room with a couch, couple chairs and a TV set. The man sprawled out on the couch and looked up at them with a disarming smile. "You're the detectives asking about Sister Abigail, right?"

"Yeah. Did you know her?" Fin asked. He was a little surprised to notice the man didn't speak English with the stilted accent typical of those of Arabic descent living in America. However, judging by his age, he was young enough to have been born and raised in the country.

"Just a bit. From what I knew of her, she was a nice lady. Although," Abdullah chuckled, "that could be said for all the sisters."

"Did you see anyone suspicious hangin' around the sister the night she died?"

"Yeah." The detectives exchanged a look of surprise. Finally, a witness! Abdullah sat up straighter and his expression became serious. "I was working late that night, had a lot of stuff to clean up in here. When I left, I saw someone, a man, walking down that hallway, walking towards the sister's room."

Munch leaned forward slightly. "Did you get a look at his face?"

Abdullah thought about it for a moment. "No, it was too dark."

"Did you see anything about him that sticks out in your mind?"

The brown-skinned man shook his head. "He was walking with a little bit of a limp, that's all."

"Well, thanks," Fin said and Abdullah nodded, standing up and exiting the room. The two detectives looked at each other.

"Better than nothing." Munch shrugged.

"Well, it practically is nothin'," Fin grumbled. "Who we gotta talk to next?"

Munch was about to look at the list when his phone rang. He picked it up, answering, "Munch." He listened for a moment, then said, "Okay, we'll be there." He hung up.

"What was that about?"

"It was the M.E. She said we should come down to see her."

"Let's go."