Elliot felt as if he were elevating self-repression to an art form. Despite his rising levels of anxiety and frustration, he'd been civil to his colleagues and to the people with whom he'd spoken. He hadn't snapped at Healey. He'd managed to take part in some friendly banter with Munch and Fin. Most impressive of all, he hadn't pressed the '4' and 'send' keys consecutively on his cell phone, meaning he hadn't called Olivia all day.
Rationally, he knew she was fine, knew he would have heard about it if she'd been kidnapped. Or shot. He swallowed quickly, pushing those kinds of thoughts from his mind and concentrating on the fact that she was okay. Perfectly fine, he recited in his head, Olivia is fine. That morning he'd promised himself that he wouldn't let his concern for his partner consume him; he'd kept the promise for roughly the time it took her to take the elevator down to the lobby and walk out of the building. His anxiety had fed on itself since then, becoming more intense with each passing moment that she didn't walk through the door.
Smiling and waving to her as she left with Eckerson each day was getting old fast. It made him worry not only about her physical safety, but also about her emotional state. It was becoming obvious that she and Eckerson were headed for…something. An intense something. Elliot tried not to think about what that something could be. Either bedroom or boxing ring would lead to problems he didn't think Olivia needed.
As he looked up from his untouched cup of coffee, he noticed that Cragen was seated on the edge of Fin's desk, listening to Munch's martyr routine over being saddled with Healey. Elliot didn't even interrupt Munch's rant as he quietly asked Cragen, "Liv gonna be back soon?"
"About an hour and a half. They're just waiting for the DNA. It doesn't look too promising, but you never know." Elliot, unsatisfied with the answer, turned back to his coffee and continued stirring. He could feel Cragen looking at him. "You okay, Elliot?"
"Fine, Cap."
"Uh-huh. John, Fin, you two want to do a coffee run?"
Fin looked toward the coffee table, back at Cragen, and at Elliot's eternal stirring. "Yeah, I can't stand the crap he makes either." The two men pulled on their coats.
As they exited, Elliot overheard Munch saying, "Next you're going to be insulting the way I keep my desk."
Not wanting to get into the obligatory conversation for which Cragen had cleared the room about how he seemed distracted and always had someone he could talk to if he needed it, Elliot volunteered, "There's nothing that talking is gonna do. I just get nervous when she's not around because I don't know for sure that she's okay, with Paige out there and all. I'll be fine as soon as she gets back."
Cragen seemed surprised by the unsolicited admission. "Okay, then. Well, at least we're getting better coffee." He looked over Elliot's shoulder suddenly and asked, "Can we help you?"
Elliot turned in his chair to see two men in dark suits displaying their gold shields. The darker haired one said, "I'm Det. Carr, this is Det. Ermine. We're with Brooklyn Robbery. Are you Captain Cragen?"
"Yes."
"I called earlier, Captain. Did you get my message?"
"No, I've been busy, sorry. Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yeah. We got a call from the print lab this afternoon, and they told us that a guy you liked for rape matched prints from a batch of grand theft autos we're working."
"And you came all the way into the city to thank us?" Elliot heard the edge in Cragen's voice and stood, finally seeing an outlet for his pent up frustration and ready for a fight. Or at least an argument.
"Actually, we were hoping you could help us out."
"We can't," Cragen stated simply.
They seemed stunned by the flat refusal. The one with the lighter hair who had yet to speak started to get indignant. "Whatddya mean, you can't?"
Elliot saw his chance. "The Captain means no. We don't have time to do your jobs for you right now."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Lighter Hair seemed just as up for a fight as Elliot was.
"Elliot…" Cragen's warning needed no further words. He turned back to the Brooklyn detectives. "What Det. Stabler means is we're up to our necks in a manhunt, and we just don't have the time or resources to get involved in another investigation."
Darker Hair gave a slight chuckle. "Captain, I don't think you understand the magnitude of what we're saying. We have a chance to bring down the biggest auto theft ring and chop shop in the five boroughs, and all we need from you is some cooperation. "
Cragen pointed toward the evidence boards covered with photographs of crime scenes, victims and suspects. "As you can see, we really don't have the time, and we don't even know if we're going to be looking at that guy after the DNA comes back…"
Lighter Hair, giving the boards a cursory glance, interrupted, "No, listen, the guy at the lab said that you got Tony Manfreidi to agree to a polygraph, and we just want to get in on your action so we can get to the ringleader, his uncle."
Elliot fought to keep his temper as the Brooklyn detectives postured for the sake of non-violent felonies.
Darker Hair continued, "We've been on this one for months and your evidence is the first solid link we've gotten, so if you'd prefer to let this guy go free for the sake of your own case…"
That was the last straw. "You think we're trying to protect our own collar?" Elliot erupted, ripping Sarah Obertello's picture from the board and waving it in the invading detectives' faces. "You see her? She needs our cooperation. There's a psycho who's gonna rape and murder her if she doesn't get some cooperation. Now you tell me that a couple of stolen Hondas are worth her life."
Darker Hair and Lighter Hair stood gaping, and Elliot was pleased that neither was able to come up with a suitable response. Yelling had also improved his mood. He felt slightly less wound up having found an outlet for some of his anxiety. Sitting at his desk and putting his feet up, he stared at the detectives.
In his effort to keep his eyes averted, Darker Hair found the evidence boards. He moved closer, inspecting the photos. In an abrupt movement, he stepped back and turned. "This is the Terry Paige case."
"Yeah," Cragen confirmed, nodding to Munch and Fin as they reentered the squad room. Elliot accepted his coffee from the tray, noting with satisfaction that Lighter Hair was now looking over the photos too.
Darker Hair grabbed his partner's sleeve. "Well, we'll just be going and let you get back to work then. Sorry about…uh, good luck with this one." The pair exited quickly.
"Guess they don't get a lot of dead bodies over in Robbery," Cragen mused.
"Robbery? What were they doin' here?"
"Doesn't matter. They're gone." Cragen didn't seem eager to recount the past few minutes, not that Elliot could blame him. "Speaking of gone, did either of you see Healey in the hallway? She's been in the bathroom for an awfully long time."
"If she's not back in a hour, we'll wait another hour and then draw straws to see who has to go check on her."
Munch's joke reminded Elliot of his own foray into the women's room two nights ago. Olivia had opened up to him, and however uncomfortable he'd felt with her confidences at the time, he still valued the trust she'd placed in him. The closeness he'd felt with her then had only diminished in the days since. All of his unease returned in a rush, negating the relief he'd felt after his outburst. He glared at the clock futilely willing the hands to move faster.
He sighed, looking away. Even when she did get back to the station, she'd still be with Eckerson. It was starting to get harder not to think of them as a pair. Even after the Marshal left, he might not be out of the picture. As much as he'd like to think he was trying to protect his partner from making bad personal decisions, he wondered if Eckerson were going to be a mistake she kept making, no matter who tried to stop her.
His thoughts were interrupted as Cragen questioned another unexpected entrance. "Davis, what are you doing here?"
"I brought over your DNA results on that Manfreidi guy." Craig Davis had a big smile on his face, looking very proud to be involved in the investigation. "Sorry, but no match, no relation to Paige. Hope you have something else you can use to nail the guy." He glanced toward the evidence boards, handing Cragen the envelope with the findings. "Wow, are these the notes he's been sending? I'd only seen the one on the first girl's body. These don't even make any sense. How'd you figure them out?"
Cragen ignored the questions about the case. "Davis, we appreciate you bringing these over, but Det. Benson and Marshal Eckerson have been killing time at One PP waiting for them."
"Oh, I...I didn't know," he stammered, color creeping into his face. "I mean, nobody told me they were waiting. I was just trying to help you guys out."
"Well, thank you for that."
"Want me to call Liv and let her know, Cap?" Elliot was dialing before Cragen had nodded his assent. The phone rang once, twice.
"Benson."
"Liv, it's me."
"Hey. What's up?"
"There was a miscommunication at the lab and Davis just brought the results straight to us at the station. You can come back now."
"Okay. See you in a little bit." She hung up. Elliot didn't have time to think about how distracted she had sounded, or the fact that she hadn't seemed upset over the wasted time.
"That was quite the bathroom break, Healey," Cragen said.
"I stepped out for some fresh air and decided to stop in at the bakery down the street, because Det. Munch rushed me through lunch and I was still hungry, so I thought a muffin would be good and you're lucky I did because I found this," she held up a manila envelope, labeled 'SVU' in thick, black block letters, "under the windshield wiper of Det. Munch's sedan." She tore open the envelope before anyone could say a word, but Elliot was able to grab her wrist before she could yank out its contents.
"Are you crazy? This could be from Paige!"
She huffed and tried to pull her arm away. "No it couldn't because he sends his notes by courier and a courier would have come into the station, not left it on one of your cars, assuming a courier would even know which cars belonged to this squad, unless he just guessed and picked any old car assuming the envelope would get to SVU or…"
Elliot had taken the time consumed by Healey's tirade to put on gloves. "All right, give it to me. Can someone get an evidence bag?"
Fin pulled one from the bottom drawer of his desk. As he handed it to Elliot, he turned to Cragen, asking, "Since Healey already opened the thing and Elliot's got gloves on, can we at least take a look at it before we send it to the lab?"
"We might as well. John, you got a pen and a piece of paper?"
Elliot pulled the plain white sheet of paper from the envelope, holding it in front of Munch for him to copy. "Done?" Munch nodded and Elliot slipped the note back into the envelope and bagged it. He turned to Davis, who was standing off to the side eagerly watching the proceedings. "Are you headed back to the lab?"
"Uh-huh."
"Want to drop this off for us?"
"Sure!" He practically ran from the room with the bag. The kid was awfully easy to please, apparently. Elliot turned and read the note Munch had tacked to the board.
The Eagle has landed! A good girl might have avoided this throat trouble by going to church last week.
Bless you,
T.
"Throat trouble?" Fin grumbled. "I think gettin' your throat slit is more than trouble. How's goin' to church keep you from gettin' killed by a psycho?"
Elliot stared at Paige's words in Munch's handwriting. He suddenly saw a connection too familiar to be coincidence. He wracked his Catholic-school-educated brain. The answer hit him like a flash of light on the road to Damascus. "St. Blase! You get your throat blessed on the feast of St. Blase! He must have dumped her at a Catholic church."
"Not to burst your bubble, Elliot, but if she's at a church, why the Apollo 11 reference?"
"Maybe it's just a reference to the year. Maybe it has something to do with a church founded in 1969." Elliot sat down at his computer, typing feverishly and listening to the continuing discussion.
"If 1969 is what he wants to tell us he could use other references. Vietnam, Woodstock. Why the moon landing? They can't even prove that really happened. Maybe it has to do with falsification."
"What exactly does that tell us? That they built the fake moon landing set in a Catholic church in Manhattan, and Terry Paige found out about the conspiracy and is usin' that knowledge to pick on you?"
"I've trained you well, grasshopper. But, seriously, in all of the other notes, every word held some meaning. I think we should consider what the Eagle reference is before we go searching all the Catholic churches in the city."
"Well, maybe there's a St. Blase's or somethin' like that around. You got anything Elliot?"
Elliot looked up from his computer search. "Ninety-nine Catholic parishes on the island of Manhattan and none of them named St. Blase's."
"What about churches founded in 1969?" Healey asked. Elliot turned to look at her, surprised that she was being helpful rather than pushy. Munch and Fin seemed similarly struck, as they had fallen silent.
"I'll check." Elliot turned back to his computer as he heard Cragen answer a ringing phone. "This doesn't give dates that churches were founded. I suppose we could call them."
Munch held up a hand. All eyes turned to Cragen. "Uh-huh…yeah…I'll send then right down." The three detectives and the Marshal waited expectantly. "That was Midtown North. CSU and Warner are meeting you behind St. Patrick's. I'll have Olivia and Eckerson meet you there."
Elliot sighed heavily. The picture of Sarah Obertello he had ripped from the board in his anger stared back at him from his desk. He silently apologized to her, feeling guilty as he did so because he was also thinking about how soon he would be seeing Olivia.