Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Law and Orders. If I did…well, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction. Just having fun, hope you are too.

Sins of the Father

Chapter Eleven: Lost and Found

Grace had been provided with scrubs and medical equipment. Nicole had overseen everything, including the autopsies. Well, partial autopsies. Grace was on the second body, having pulled three bags of cocaine from the first body, and two from the second. These people she was cutting open looked so young.

She wondered where Angela was suddenly. The middle sister in the group of three was known for her outrageous behavior, so much like their mother, using prostitution to fuel her drug habit. If Grace couldn't reach her soon then Angela would end up like one of these poor souls. She pulled another bag out of the second victim. Who was going to grieve over them? Another older sibling? A parent, perhaps?

"Two down, one more to go," Nicole spoke up from behind Grace.

"So the blood, guts and gore doesn't bother you too much, does it Nicole?"

"Why should it?" she shrugged. "If I'm as depraved as you put it, why should it bother me?"

Grace wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her scrubs. "I guess I like to see the good in people."

"Tell me, do you see good in me?"

Grace turned to see if Nicole was mocking her but what she found in those light brown eyes was genuine curiosity. It was odd to say the least. Grace shook her head. "No."

Nicole's face look crestfallen for about a second before returning to its natural mask of condescension. "Just one more and then you're free to go."

"Right." Grace turned from her captor and realized the implication of her words. Once the coke had been removed from the third body her usefulness was done. Nicole had tormented Bobby with Grace's dark secrets and now she had used her skills for Nicole's purpose of getting back a couple thousand or more worth of white powder. So this was how her life was going to end. What a sad existence.

"Nicole, how much longer?"

Grace chanced a glance over her shoulder to see a tall, dark haired man making his way towards the makeshift morgue. He was dressed in a very nice dark suit and dress shirt and spoke with a French accent. She recognized him from the newspaper picture from the Thai paper. So this was the boyfriend.

"She's on her last body, darling."

"There's a swat team on their way. Those detectives found the warehouse."

Grace sucked in a breath of air and quickly released it. Unfortunately, Nicole had heard her.

"Oh don't worry, Grace, it's not Bobby. Don't get your hopes up."

"They'll be here within a half hour."

"We'll be done by then," Nicole said smoothly, "Won't we, Gracie?"

Something inside of Grace snapped and only red filled her vision. Every muscle in her body tightened like metal coils of a spring. Only her father was allowed to call her by that name. That had become her endearment to him and she allowed him the freedom to call her by her childhood name. No one else reserved that right.

But there was nothing Grace could do. Sure, she could try to attack Nicole with the scapula she held but not with the boyfriend standing there. She was a doctor, not a fighter and both Nicole and her boyfriend came across as fighters. No, she would have to wait, plan and attack swiftly.

She pulled one bag out of the stomach of the last victim. As she pulled the second, she purposefully caught it on the tip of the scalpel, letting a small stream of coke fall into the open cavern of the stomach before placing the bag in the surgical tray with the rest.

"That's it," Grace tightened her grip on the scalpel. "I'm done." She turned to see if the boyfriend had left only to see the lead pipe coming towards her face the second before it connected and turned everything black.

Detectives Mike Logan and Carolyn Barek had been tracking this drug ring since Sophie Kapirelli's body had been found. Deakins had handed the case of the killer to Goren and Eames, but the drug dealing was handed to Logan and Barek. Now, with a complete swat team behind them, they moved through the abandoned warehouse with no luck of drugs, dealers or customers. That is, until they came to a door that had six locks on it.

Logan motioned for the swat team to break it down and within two seconds it was splintered wood. Five seconds later it was declared clear and he stepped into the room. It was set up to look like a hotel room.

"Windows have an electric current running over them," Barek said.

"A holding cell?" He looked around the room again. "What do drug dealers need a holding cell for?"

"Especially one that looks like this?"

"Logan, Barek," the head of the swat team stepped into the room, "three bodies have been found in another room down the hall. All three have their stomachs cut open."

"Drugs," Barek stated.

"Looks that way. We're bagging the bodies. The incisions that were made, they look really clean, like a doctor made them."

Barek straightened her back and looked over at her partner. "The ME that's gone missing."

"Any of those bodies a red-head?" Logan asked.

"No, all three were male."

It was two in the afternoon and Bobby Goren felt like he had personally hit every dead end in Grace's case head on at eight miles an hour. His hopes of finding her alive were dwindling. Unless Nicole was holding her for her surgical abilities, the Aussie would just kill her outright whenever she had served her purpose.

"Ok, thanks." Eames hung up her phone and he looked over at her hopefully. He knew it was Barek on the other end filling her in on what they found at the warehouse. Eames just shook her head, a disappointed look on her face. "You're coming in tomorrow?"

He nodded his head.

Eames leaned across her desk and lowered her voice. "You know you can come to my parents for dinner, Bobby. You shouldn't spend Thanksgiving day here."

"I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced but realized a losing battle when she saw one.

"But," he started, "thank you, anyway."

She gave him a slight smile. "You know where I'll be if you change your mind."

His cell phone rang and before he could open it Eames had made her way over to his side of the desk. The number was blocked. He held the phone out from his ear somewhat so Eames could hear as well.

"Hello, Nicole."

"Hello, Bobby. I'm kind of rushed right now but I wanted to let you know that Grace has returned to work today."

"What does that mean?"

"You're an intelligent boy, I'm sure you'll figure it out. Till next time."

He shut the phone and laid it on his desk. Then her words made sense and his stomach dropped. No, she couldn't mean what he thought she did. But it was a very Nicole Wallace thing to do. He covered his face with his hands and fought back the fear and tears that had worked their way to his face. Eames didn't need him to tell her what Nicole's words had meant. He heard her dialing from his phone and asking to speak with Dr. Rodgers. A few minutes later she hung up the phone.

"Bobby, no bodies had been brought in that resembled Grace. Rodgers is gathering everyone and they're starting from the roof down to the crypt."

"She's dead, Alex. You really think Nicole is going to let her live?" He saw the hope flicker in her eyes which only seemed to amplify his despair. He stood up and grabbed his coat.

"Where are you going, Bobby?"

"To the morgue." He knew she would follow him. She would probably drive as well. He didn't want to see Grace in death. But he had to, to believe that she had been killed. He needed to apologize, even if it was to her corpse.

An ambulance had been stationed at the front doors, lights flashing. Rodgers met them at the lobby doors, pale but determined.

"We haven't found anything yet," she greeted. "I was just heading down stairs to check the lockers. It's where we put bodies after an autopsy has been performed."

Eames followed Rodgers into the elevator, watching Goren's shadow follow her. He had been very quiet from the bullpen to the car to the morgue. She felt for him - she really did. The battle between Wallace and her partner had always just involved those two. Now Nicole had broken the rules of war and brought an innocent victim into the fray, possibly even killing her. But she had to keep hope alive, if not for herself than for Bobby. But one look at the hunched frame of her partner told her he was inconsolable at the moment. The elevator dinged cheerfully and the doors opened.

A whoosh of cool air hit Eames in the face as they stepped off the elevator and into a sterile looking room. One wall was lined with metal boxes with handles. Rodgers grabbed the first handle in the upper left hand corner of the wall and pulled it open like a filing cabinet drawer. A body, pale and lifeless, lay on the slab of metal, waiting to be claimed by a loved one or funeral home. It wasn't Grace.

Eames went to the opposite side of the room and started from the right hand corner of the wall. Goren started from the middle of the wall. Every drawer that Eames opened she held her breath, waiting to see those red-gold curls, but they never came. She finished the first row and started on the second. Nothing. She has just started on the third when Goren let out a sound that was a cross between a gasp and a sob.

He was on his knees, a hand covering his mouth as he gazed down at a severely beaten body. Eames saw those red curls and forced her feet to move over towards the drawer. Rodgers fled the room, shouting for the paramedics. Eames knelt down on the other side of the drawer, looking at the body.

Grace's face had been beaten severely, the nose broken, two black eyes, split lip and dried blood from seeping head wounds. She was still dressed in a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans but it was obvious she had many broken bones. Blood had soaked through spots in her shirt and the colored portions of her jeans.

Then Eames saw it. A very slight rise and fall of the chest. At first she thought her mind was playing a trick but she saw it again. She laid two fingers on the side of the bruised neck and caught a thready pulse.

"Bobby, she's still alive."

She had never seen him move so fast. He had taken off his large overcoat and laid it over Grace's broken body, which swallowed her up. With great care she had seen on many occasions, he slid his hands underneath her back and knees and slowly stood up, bringing Grace with him. By that time the paramedics had arrived and Bobby just laid her reverently on the stretcher. Eames watched as they strapped her down, handing Bobby his coat back. They were on their radios ordering IVs and other supplies to be prepared for their arrival up stairs.

Eames noticed Bobby just watched them with a strange detachment from the entire ordeal. She noticed from watching the folds in the fabric of his coat that he kept clenching his hands and then relaxing them. She was used to his metal journeys into his mind when they were solving a case but this was different. Usually his eyes couldn't stay still, roving over the room, ceiling and floor, searching for answers. Now, they remained facing the door but they were unfocused, empty.

"Bobby?" she gently laid a hand on his arm. No response. She shook him slightly, saying his name with more authority. "Bobby."

Every muscle in his body jumped. He snapped out of his trance in an instant. His brow furrowed and she could see he was desperately trying to grasp his ability to speak once more but all that came out was "Alive."

Alex Eames prided herself on her emotional strength. She was a tough cop and an equally tough woman. But the look in her partner's eyes moved her to tears. He looked like someone had just handed him the one thing he desired most in this world. And he allowed her to see something that she had never seen in the entire five years she had known him. He cried.