Disclaimer: Everything Law & Order related belongs to Dick Wolf and company, as in the show idea and known characters. But I do own the abstract created characters and plot line.
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Olivia and Elliot arrived at Jude's Hospital to find a sleeping Casey Novak curled up on one of those, frequented, undetermined-origin-of-stain hospital chairs near Petra Ramirez's recovery room.
Without a word Elliot removed his suit jacket and cautiously draped it over Casey, careful not to wake her.
Olivia smiled to herself.
That's my boy.
A purposely placed cough turned their attention to Petra Ramirez's Doctor, Al Thompson who waited for the officers with his back against her recovery room door.
After formalities, he listed a brief run down of her injuries.
The rape kit was positive. There was dehydration, multiple bruises, a cracked rib and some type of sedative in her system, which would fully purge itself in few days.
She was also recovering quickly, she was fighter. But also a sacred kid, her parents still hadn't been located.
"Is she aware enough for us to speak to her?" Olivia asked.
"I believe so, just let me…give her a head's up." He muttered stepping into her room.
Petra Ramirez twisted the coarse hospital bed sheet with her fingers, fidgeting quietly.
Where are they?
She wondered if her family had been contracted yet, still overseas, most likely not.
Damn.
"Petra?"
Doctor Al Thompson called to her quietly, she jerked back to reality.
"Those detectives I told you about," she nodded understanding. "They want to talk to you. Are you up to that?"
She nodded, "Al?" He permitted the use of his first name.
He stopped, door knob half turned, his face open to whatever she would say.
"Has—has anyone got a hold of my parents, yet?" She asked coarsely. His body language was clear enough, but he answered anyway.
"The Embassy is still looking. I'm sorry, Petra." She nodded holding back tears and the heavy lump.
"Just let me talk to 'em."
Get this over with.
He nodded sorrowfully and opened the door for the two detectives and took his leave.
Petra observed them sharply as they introduced themselves. Their height, respectable shapes, the cautious looks on their faces, like they where walking on eggs shells around her. As anything they said would shatter her already fragile physique and mind.
Treat me like an adult. I'm not afraid! I've accepted it! She helped me! She told me I'm a survivor, not a victim!
"Petra, can you tell us what happened, from the beginning?" Olivia asked quietly after she seated herself along side her handsome partner.
She nearly responded with a wise-ass comment like she would have to her mother when she was younger. When she wanted to know where she had been after curfew or who called for her on the phone. She was just being a mom after all, caring and trying to guide her.
From the beginning...She unconsciously bit her lip and began her harrowing tale.
"My Mom and Dad work for the Thatch Computer Corp. They had a business convention they had to attend in Japan for five days. This wasn't the first time they left me alone…they trust me enough, I've earned my maturity, as my Dad would say. Besides everyone in our building knows me and they would be checking in on me from time to time."
Olivia nodded, starting to form her own opinion about her parents.
"I had covered a late shift last Monday at the blood bank, I owed it to a buddy." She cast a glance out the recovery room window, eyeing the hazy New York City skyline.
"Anyway, I was coming home late, later than usual, couldn't hail a cab either, go figure. I was just about to give up when a taxi pulled up finally. Got in and we went out merry way." Elliot winced at her sarcastic tone; he knew where her tale was headed and it bothered him, a lot.
Petra didn't realize she started tearing up until the salty sting, singed at her eyes.
Don't lose it, you can do this. Just breathe. Take control.
She grabbed a tissue out of a near by floral cardboard box, seated on a side stand. Scattering paper particles into the air that showed up in the soft sun beams, then faded out of existence. Wiped her eyes and composed herself.
"We stopped at a red-light, I wasn't in a talkative mood, neither was the driver and so I let my guard down…It happened really, really fast. I think he used a dart or syringe or something because he just whipped around in the front seat and I felt this—this prick."
Olivia swallowed.
"My whole body went numb, I couldn't feel anything and then everything went black."
She was starting to lose it. The uncomfortable heat was building in her throat and it pinched her nose. She could feel the snot threatening to run.
"You can stop, we can finish this later—" Olivia started, laying a hand on her shoulder.
"No!" Petra jerked as if her touch burned; Olivia recoiled as if she hurt her.
She had to finish this, no going back, she was strong. She told her she was strong.
"I can do this…please, I'm sorry. Just let me finish," she spoke as if she needed their permission and that they could possibly deny it.
Their eyes timidly waited for her to continue.
"The first time I woke up…he was…God, it hurt so much." She found herself looking up at the tiled ceiling, attempting to stanch the tears that where begging to flow.
"It—it happened a lot, I started to lose track of time too. I fought hard at first, then he used restraints." Olivia eyes fluttered rudely to the dark bracelets of bruise wound about her wrists, seeing them for the first time.
"Umm…the last time he…." She looked away from the ceiling and out the window focusing on the haze again. Breathed and then turned back to the hard detectives, giving them eye contact this time. She refused to look away.
"I saw this shadow over his shoulder…I thought I did at first anyway. Then that shadow turned into a figure. She ran up behind him before he knew what was happening and she throttled him with some rope scraps, the same kind he was using on me." She huffed with an ironic tone.
"She…she tore him out of me. It happened fast, everything was happening so fast, but I wasn't going to look away. No, I was more wake then I had been in hours. I guess I'd been there for hours…or days. And I was afraid too, I didn't know her...intentions."
The two detectives where still giving her full audience, Petra found it hard to read them.
Did they admire this woman or where they going to track her down like a dog for what she did? Murder was still murder after all.
"They fought each other hard, lots of hits on both sides. He tore her hood off some—"
"Did you see her face at all?" Elliot interjected, Olivia glanced at him harshly.
"Just a glimpse of her hair…The only light in there was a hanging lamp. They knocked it around some, so there were shadows everywhere." She tried to hide the annoyance in her voice. Who really liked to be interrupted anyway?
"What color?" Olivia asked still in the pause of Petra's account.
"It looked black, maybe a dark brown."
Olivia nodded for her to continue, as she made a note on her small memo pad.
When did she pull that out? Petra questioned herself; she observed nearly everything around her, well on most occasions she did at least.
"Anyway, eventually she managed to kind of…stun him I guess. Then she restrained him with these hanging… well restraints. They where attached to an over head water pipe I think…and ankle cuffs, hooked to the floor."
Petra paused to breathe.
"She stopped the light from swinging. I still couldn't see much of her. There was this bucket of water he kept down there, my drinking water, he didn't give much of it either. She took it and threw it over him to wake him. He was pissed too."
Another hesitant breath, thin admiration was in her voice for her hero, her savior.
That made Elliot uneasy, but at the same time he wanted to find this woman, shake her hand for what she did, then slap the cuffs on her. He had to uphold the law.
"She started talking to him, real quick and agitated. He was cussing her, saying he didn't know what she was talking about. I didn't see this but I saw her from the back, she showed him her face fully. He kind of recoiled, it shut him up."
"He started saying he was just doing his job…Whatever that means. She shook it off and started looking around the basement. He started begging and pleading with her for his life."
Petra huffed again, "He even started crying. After what he did to me! He was beggin' for his life!"
Her voice rose at that last statement, she didn't mean for it to. She scolded herself mentally before she continued.
"He had this table covered with a sheet, down there. I never saw what was under that sheet till then, but I wondered about it when I'd wake up…alone."
Petra looked away briefly; visualizing the memory, then back to her audience.
"She tore the sheet off, there was a knife and…ah…several cruel looking and disgusting objects!" Petra felt teary at that memory then shrugged it aside.
"She—she gagged him and used one of the objects against him. She screamed at it him 'Not as much fun as receiving it than giving it, is it!'"
She trailed off then started again, "She tortured him then split him…his—his blood sprayed across me and I was happy about it! He was dead!"
That revelation took both detectives aback.
Where they shocked? Surprised? Disgusted?
Petra froze as her last statement resonated in her mind, she replayed it again.
How can I say that?
She could no longer look the two detectives in the eye; instead she focused on the folds of her bed sheet.
"She wrote something on the wall, then came and seated herself quietly next to me. She began to untie me. She asked me to listen to her, she said, 'You're a survivor. Like me. You're strong. You will feel so angry and cold toward the ones you love, but don't push away those who love you. Embrace them, take comfort in them. Let go of your hate because it will kill you, like it has me. I've relieved you of your scorn, of mine and of countless others…Remember you are a survivor not a victim.'"
Petra paused from the strong heat in her face, the calm before the storm. The protective dam she placed around her about to breach.
"She helped me up and I started to feel faint, I wanted to vomit but I couldn't…I don't remember much else…except…I think it was elevator music."
Petra didn't realize she was crying. She didn't try to stop it this time, she didn't care anymore. The emotion was too much of her. She let the tears flow and pour like heavenly rain from her young face.
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Casey Novak kept vigil for Petra Ramirez; a girl she didn't even know existed till late last night. She continued to ask about her condition with nurses and doctors every time one came in to her view or when a shift change occurred.
A fresh face that didn't know her, but then she had to explain why she was there all over again. Some would be curt with her, say she wasn't family she had no reason to be there, then the hostile lawyer in her would retaliate viciously, till someone threaten to call security or others would bustle away quickly telling her to ask someone else.
Petra was finally taken out of intensive care then moved to recovery and Casey continued her vigil. But was denied audience with her, family, medical personal or police officer; the only titles allowed to see her.
Some six hours after her horrifying conversation with Olivia, still at the intensive care unit and after Petra was moved a recovery room, a Registered Nurse took mercy on Casey and allowed her to see Petra, but she had to be present with her.
The short haired blonde stood timidly next to the unconscious Petra, then knelt beside her, brushing a tear from her face.
Petra looked so awful, but not as bad as she did when Casey first laid eyes on her in that elevator.
Bloodied and bewildered.
Bruised and battered.
Sickly thin.
Filthy with basement grime, his fluids, his blood, then streaked with her tears and her sweat.
Now she looked clean and refreshed but the bruises remained, soft blues, hues of black and purple scattered here and there, but most noticeable on her wrists.
Restraints! Casey realized in horror.
That bastard! He used restraints! How could he do this to another human being? How could any one do this to someone's body?
Could have been you...Stop it! She screamed at that voice in her mind.
Casey slipped her hand into Petra's and brushed the copper curls away from her face, "Your safe now," she whispered into her ear, "he can never hurt you or anyone else ever again."
She felt a squeeze.
Casey scanned Petra's face quickly; did she really feel that squeeze? She saw no indication of her eyes going conveniently flutter open at her statement. It was in her mind, had to be, just a hopeful yearn.
"Ms.," the RN interrupted.
Casey nodded her back still to her. She released Petra's hand gently, stood and gave one last look at Petra, the honey glow of her skin slowly returning. Casey felt her throat constrict, then she turned away.
Content for now, she seated herself at her post again and passed out from the over-whelming emotion and exhaustion.
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Casey woke up stiff and disoriented.
The hospital…Petra. She realized then calmly stretched and inhaled sharply, a familiar scent entered her nostrils.
Elliot?
She noted his suit jacket spread over her and glanced futilely at Petra's door just to see her doctor exit and purposely avoid eye contact with her.
Their taking her statement…she's awake!
But she knew she wouldn't be allowed to speak with her, but she was awake. Relief washed over her. Then the familiar awaking urge to urinate tugged at her lower waist, she quickly collected herself and slipped over the lobby restroom.
Casey reemerged to see Elliot and Olivia standing near her seat, Elliot recollecting his jacket.
"How is she?"
"She's a tough kid." Elliot muttered avoiding her gaze. "That—that woman…." He was at loss for words.
"She's put some strange ideas into her head—" He continued.
"But gave her some sound advice, though." Olivia interrupted him.
Elliot gave her his 'come on' look.
"What? She spoke to her? What did she say?" Casey demanded, her eyes darting from face to face.
Olivia hesitated, then opened her note scribbled memo pad, "Example 'let go for your hate', 'don't push those away who love you', 'I've relieved you of your scorn—"
"She a vigilante, 'Liv!" Elliot said sternly, "Someone we don't need running around the city—"
"Yeah, I know that. But she saved the girl! She'd be dead if not for her!"
Casey watched the argument escalate; she held her tongue, nearly on the verge of separating the two. Sparks definitely weren't the best mood for either of them.
"And murdered—no, slaughtered a man doing it!"
"Do you honesty think he really deserved to live?"
"No." He stated in a low voice, avoiding the looks from hospital workers, "But the last thing we need is a vigilante or worse, for the press to hear about this…that there's some 'Hooded Woman'," he emphasized with his hands, "out there taking the law into her own hands. It's like giving license to anyone to do that."
"I know, but—" Olivia was cut off.
As if it was fate, Elliot's cell chimed shrilly. Annoyed, he answered his eyes still locked with Olivia's, "Right…on our way." He snapped the phone shut, "That was John, the test results are in from the tissue taken from beneath Jack Kershaw's nails. They got a hit."
That was it, the argument was over. But the friction would remain until they had a heart to heart and made up.
"I'm coming too." Casey said, giving neither one the chance to even ask her. End of story.
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"Cate Monty?" Olivia mused aloud, seated at her desk. Her superior Captain Donald Cragen nodded.
"Why does that name sound so familiar?" She murmured.
"Maybe because she's dead…Well, theoretically." John interrupted already peeking at Cate Monty's retrieved file.
"What? We're chasing a ghost?" Fin questioned.
"Apparently, she died six years ago. Anyone remember the Monty Murders?" Cragen asked to everyone present.
Unsure and confused murmurs chorused throughout the squad room.
"Doesn't surprise me, this case was…well, very bizarre to say the least. It wasn't handled very well either." He started, shrugging slightly.
"Cate Monty had everything. She was a teacher at a local public school, had a huge house, mother of twins, a boy and a girl and was married to Judge—"
"Frankie Monty." Epiphany struck Casey.
Cragen looked over in surprise, "You know him?"
She shook her head, "Just by reputation. He was a very shady Judge. Last I heard he was retried, right?"
Cragen nodded and continued, "Anyway, it was speculated that Cate 'cracked' and killed her children then set their home on fire…with her in it. But she lived."
Olivia attempted to hide a gasp, but Elliot noticed it.
"As I said it was very bizarre case and the trial was even stranger. Cate Monty had an out of this world story that she and her family where attacked by group of people in their home and that she was mutilated and burned by them. Medical reports claimed that the injuries where self-inflicted."
"The house was burned so there was very little evidence of a group of individuals, even if there was one to begin with. What evidence there was always disappearing, the same with certain reports and the entire trial was eventually swept under the rug. She was found guilty of the murder of her two children, sentenced to life imprisonment with no chance of parole."
He paused, "But wait, it gets even stranger."
"Something happened during her prison transport. The vehicle flipped over on one of the East River bridges, the officers' reports weren't very clear on what how it happened. She escaped and jumped off the bridge, still shackled. It was speculated that no one could survive the fall, even unshackled, but her body was never recovered. She was never seen again and presumed dead."
"Cap, this is like listening to an urban legend. Next you'll say she'll appear to you in a bathroom mirror if you say her name ten times in the dark." Fin said sarcastically.
"DNA doesn't lie." John quipped.
"An East River bridge? John, come on. She was hand and ankle cuffed. I don't care if you're Houdini, you couldn't survive that shit."
"Never found a body—"
"Next you'll start spouting shit that's she's involved in government conspiracies and abductions."
"Makes some sense," Olivia began.
The two stopped bickering and looked at her, questioning.
"How so?" Cragen inquired.
"Petra Ramirez said that Jack Kershaw told Cate or who ever this woman is, that he was 'just doing his job'."
Elliot nodded, "She showed him her face too, he did recoil, that could be constant with burn tissue. What happened to her husband?"
"The press and publicity forced him to resign early. Then he remarried, rather quickly too. I don't know much else." Cragen answered.
"Well, I think we'd better have a little talk with him." Olivia said locking eyes with Elliot.
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"Captain," Special Victims Detective Nadia Sands called from Cragen's doorway.
"Detective," he replied glancing up at her, then to returned his focus on the report he was filling out.
"Word on the floor is there's a vigilante running around." She started quietly.
"I won't confirm that—"
"Described as 'Hooded Woman'?" She interrupted him, he bit back his annoyance.
Nadia Sands was blunt and hard headed to say the least and had somewhat of a shady past. She'd transferred to his squad four weeks ago from Narcotics. She was adapting very well too, Cragen hoped it would remain that way. He'd seen Special Victims ware down and destroy the finest of detectives; the task wasn't for the weak.
"That's Casey Novak's description. Why?"
She swallowed, glanced behind her, closing his office door and leaned up against it.
"Gage and I just got back from St. David's Hospital," he nodded; he sent the two out on call.
A report of a little boy brought in late last night, alone, later identified as Nathan Thorne. He'd been reported missing three days ago by his parents. He'd been molested.
"When we asked him how he got there he said that the lady took him. Then we asked what lady he said the nice lady, the hooded lady, the lady that stopped the bad man. The lady who told him he was survivor."
Cragen's eyes stared at her intently; the pen had already dropped from his hand, leaving a stray ink streak on the report.
Survivor…
He had read Olivia's report on Petra Ramirez not two hours ago. No one else had even seen it yet.
How does she know?
"You read Detective Benson's report?"
"Yeah, but she doesn't know that."
Thief.
He recalled her prior occupation before she cleaned up and became a cop. Yeah, he knew all about her past in Europe, Australia and South America. But it was in the past; she'd paid her debt to society and had served her time, but never in an American prison.
Cragen bit his lip at her bluntness. But choose not to berate her for reading a file that she had no business even being near, at least not yet.
"Does Thorne know where he was at?"
"Yeah, strange thing about that too."
"How so?"
"This woman gave him a scrap of paper with an address on it. Gage and I are waiting for your blessing."
Cragen nodded again.
"Do you have Nathan Thorne's report done yet?"
She whipped his door opened, ducked out for a moment and returned with a manila folder.
Her captain took it and nodded accordingly.
"Take a SWAT team,"
Nadia smiled.
A bust! Yes!
"and Fin and Munch too."
Her heart sank. She hoped to be officer in charge. Prematurity, not the greatest trait she possessed.
He didn't think she was ready or didn't trust her fully. Nadia aimed to please and sought to redeem herself for her past transgressions, she still hadn't fully forgiven herself yet. Three years wasn't enough or so Nadia thought.
She wouldn't let her Captain down, she never did in Narcotics or in Patrol and she'd be damned if she was going to start now.
"Yes sir." She exited quietly.
(End Chapter 2)
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