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.
Declaimer Two: Nor do I own Carolyn Barek, Mike Logan, Alexandra Eames or Robert Goren. All belong to Dick Wolf and Company.
A/N: Yeah! On a happy Shellster note…my muse came back! TOTALLY RADICAL!
'K, I'm done with that…yeah…ok…anyway my muse returned…ah this is great. But he came back at really hectic time, finals and stuff…it's really hard to concentrate on my studies and essays with him bouncing about my little mind. Oh well, Holiday Break is on its way, then he will get to come out and play…yes…oh yes…anyway hope ya'll like this one.
Oh and more gross stuff in this chapter…like for real eeewww…this ain't for the squeamish…speaking of which I had a squeamish misadventure over the Thanksgiving Break too…aw, big brother's do stupid things, but that's another story.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, ya'll rock!
Oh, the story about Dolorous Boar is made up too…yeah…ok I'm done.
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It was beyond chaotic in the precinct the night Cate Monty escaped during the graveyard shift.
With fire sirens echoing throughout the station and rotating red lights; corrupt officer Jimmy O'Malley and his two subordinates stumbled into Cate's wing, inhaling the sharp scent of blood, coarse cinderblock grounded their nasal passages and gun smoke burned their tear ducts.
"Ah, fuck!" Jimmy yelled grabbing his head upon seeing the unconscious Vince Connors on the floor and his counterparts were stumbling out of Cate's cell, holding Damien up as they trudged down the hallway, Manuel leaving Jina's side to carry Vince himself.
"We were never here. Understand me?" Jina hissed with slurred words at the dumbstruck officers.
"What happened? Where is she!" Jimmy ignored her.
"We were never here!" She repeated, holding Damien up awkwardly.
They ignored his continued ranting and left the wing. Escaping barely into the rain as Cate did only minutes ago.
Jimmy O'Malley knew it would be only minutes before other officers rushed to the wing, and they had no alibi. With no other alternative they played dumb, rushing from the wing and evacuated the building as the New York Fire Department trucks rolled in.
Meanwhile, as the station was thrown into anarchy, the Squad was each at their own home, relaxing at their own pace, basking in comfort that they had a confession from Cate Monty, she was in custody and arraignment would be in two days, the case was nearly over The entire fiasco would be sealed away in a folder and forgotten.
Yeah right.
Olivia Benson was cuddled up on her armchair, asleep with a pregnancy book sliding from her grasp. On her way home she stopped at a nearby bookstore and picked up various books on pregnancy and parenting, seeing as she had made her mind up, she was going through with it; taking responsibility.
Spent the evening leafing through the various pages and reading passages alone, then a few hours ago phoned a dear friend. The only person she felt she could trust enough, and confide in at the moment. Her captain, partner and the Squad would have to wait.
So she called up Detective Carolyn Barek, who had recently transferred into Major Case, were she would be partnered with Mike Logan and work along side the dynamic duo; Alexandra Eames and Robert Goren.
Carolyn and Olivia went to the academy together. She was her support when she thought she was pregnant then, even went to the pharmacy with her to help her pick out the right test too.
She was so supportive.
Both times too, then and now.
They had a wonderful heart to heart and Carolyn vowed to back her one-hundred percent.
Although Carolyn did sound distracted and tired, she merely said it was because a really tough case she was working on and didn't bother elaborating beyond that. Olivia didn't press either.
Olivia decided she was going to tell Cragen and Elliot, but only when the Monty case was cleared up.
When Cate Monty was behind bars—penitentiary bars—and she had a breather, she would tell Elliot first, then Cragen and then the Squad. But she had a sneaking suspicion that Nadia already knew and that everyone else suspected something.
In addition to Cate Monty's shocking words at St. Marks, which was a wake up call to Olivia about how real the situation was, if Cate could tell then, others were going to be able to tell too, sooner if not later.
For nearly an hour Olivia stripped down to her undergarments and found herself staring into her full-length mirror.
Turning from side to side, running calloused fingers over her lower abdomen, looking for that little rise under the skin, it was there, small, but she noticed it.
Olivia also made an appointment with an Obstetrician, tomorrow at 1:55; she would go during her the tail end of her lunch hour.
What was even more disturbing, other then Cate Monty herself, was what she said about the old woman in the slum, Cate dubbed as Dolorous, the urban legend. She did research it out of curiosity; Olivia didn't like what she found either.
Dolorous Boar, she died in the early sixties in that very slum. Her four children had been murdered under reasons that today standards would classify as a hate crime. So Dolorous went vigilante as Cate did, and died doing so.
Olivia refused to believe she saw a ghost.
But she saw something she couldn't explain.
Elliot Stabler had spent the evening talking to his children and ex-wife who were still in Baltimore.
He was happy to be able to tell Kathy that they had Cate Monty in custody and that this entire mess would be cleaned up soon.
Kathy could hear the relief in his voice; it had been very stressful for him, that much she observed from his phone calls.
She and the kids would be returning to the city soon, school started in a week or so, and she still had a few supplies to pick up for the kids.
Elliot was so excited that they were coming back; he hated being separated from them, especially his children.
Odafin 'Fin' Tutuola was passed out on his bed; he had spent the better part of the evening arguing with his superintendent about the tenants above him, who kept wasting water in their bathroom and it was starting to leak though his bathroom ceiling.
The super was less then ecstatic then having to deal with the problem, mainly because it was his brother-in-law and kid sisters' apartment.
Whereas Fin didn't give a damn who was living in the apartment, just as long as it was taken care of.
He wasn't paying for the ceiling damage, he'd have Casey Novak so far up the super's ass he'd be shitting blonde for a week.
With the law on his side the super grudgingly promised to take care of the problem.
Satisfied, Fin called for some take-out, filled up on it, showered and collapsed on his bed. Recharging for another day, another case, another chance to change someone's life.
John Munch was still awake at 4:06 a.m., leafing through a novel, still in strange awe that he won two million dollars in a lotto he never played and never even enter considered getting involved in.
Then Vince Connors the asshole he is, gives him a ticket and smirks, "Right now I think you need all the luck you can get, see you in the funny papers."
He just made John two million dollars richer, he still hadn't decided with to do with it, but had taken Nadia's advice. Held off to collect the money and when he did he claim the reward, he immediately sealed it in a safety deposit box.
Where it would sit till he what decided on what to do with it, Oh, the possibilities.
Andrew Gage wasn't asleep like his superiors, no he lie awake listening to the rain with Elettra Acardi laying on his right arm, asleep and slowly numbing it.
His torrid thoughts about Cate Monty and the Cop hit consumed his mind. He just wanted to get them over with and leave the city, not indefinitely, but for a while and go back home.
Back to Basin, Nevada, his small hometown in the middle of nowhere, he had been gone to long.
Nadia Sands was up early instant messaging with Esha Bhaskar, due to the time difference with England.
Munching on cold curry and samosa her mother had left at her apartment the last time she visited, careful not to get it on the keyboard or custom mouse.
Casey Novak nearly pulled an all-nighter as she prepared for Cate Monty's arraignment and finally ran out of coffee in her apartment and passed out at her wobbly and worn desk in her pajamas, soothed to sleep by the rhythmic rain on the fire-escape.
She would have a terrible backache tomorrow, because of it, and on top of everything.
Donald Cragen was asleep also when he would get the call from Isaiah Bjork, the captain during the graveyard shift, who would deliver the disappointing news of Cate Monty's escape.
Which would send Cragen into a oblivion of rage, demanding to know what happened. Bjork couldn't give him the answer.
Grudgingly he started to call the appropriate people of his Squad.
"It's too early for this shit."
What tore his sprits down even more was the rain still pattering against his window.
Will it ever stop? Will any of this every end?
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"I want to talk to the officers in charge of the wing, now." Cragen demanded to Isaiah Bjork with Fin and Munch at his side; the others would slowly be filtering into the shambled station.
"It was Michael Cutter and Charles Chapman. There both AWOL right now, same with Jimmy O'Malley." Bjork reported in his bright office, as the rain droned against his window.
Cragen couldn't hide his frustration; he didn't try to either, "What's their reps?"
"O'Malley has never been a saint, as for the other two, they have clean records." Bjork responded.
"Is there a CSU team there?" Cragen went through the motions.
"Yes, but there is something else you should know," Bjork prepared.
Cragen gestured for him to continue.
"We found evidence of multiple persons in her cell, and we have security footage. It's pretty grainy, but it's definitely four people. And Monty put up a hell of fight too."
Cragen nodded, his mind shifting though the possibilities of whom it could have been, "No confirmed ids?"
"Not yet. Natasha's working on that though."
Just then the rest of the Squad arrived, each in some sort of disrepair, all obviously distraught that Cate Monty had escaped.
Just when they thought they had reached the end of this frantic and chaotic case, they wound up a back at square one.
They wanted answers.
They wanted names.
They wanted this too end.
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"We know you were there." Elliot pushed into Jina Farlane's personal space in the interrogation room.
"No I wasn't, I was at Parkers, ask anyone." Jina replied placidly staring into the double mirror, "I've never even met that nasty fuck."
"What happened to your mouth?" Elliot drilled moving in front of Jina, taking his seat again.
"I was in a fight last night." Jina replied, not touching her bashed mouth.
"With who?"
"I don't know the bitch's name, some hoe outside of Parkers." Jina said hostility.
"Cate Monty." He implied.
"No it was someone other girl—"
"No, Jina it wasn't. You know what I think, you and your little buddies came here last night to kill Cate Monty. And she kicked your ass. She smashed your mouth. And too think you where armed. She's anemic too and she still beat the hell out of four grown adults and to top it all off, she just came out of a coma!" Elliot baited, laughing, prejudiced to the fact that he and Olivia where armed also when Cate took them down the first time they met, totally ignored that nagging truth.
Jina held back, playing it cool, knowing Vince would kill her if she screwed up for everyone else.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I was at Parkers last night getting tanked, I ran up a tab too. Call them." She hissed leaning forward.
"No, we don't need to. We have your DNA at the scene; we don't need a confession either. Your going away for a while Jina, you could make a deal now and maybe have a reduced sentence. If you give me all your information on Monty." Elliot offered.
"I can't do that, because I don't know her." Jina lied.
Elliot shrugged, "Fine."
He moved to the door to allow two uniforms in and had her escorted to lock-up.
Maybe the others where having better luck.
"Why were you there?" Fin questioned Manuel Montero in the next room over.
"I wasn't, I was with my girlfriend last night. You can call and ask her." Manuel replied, his left eye covered by a patch of gaze.
"Things get out of hand, she hit your eye?" Fin pointed to the damage.
"Yeah, she's a spousal abuser." He said sarcastically.
"Yeah, so what did Cate do to you? Shove one of those Billy clubs in your eye?" Fin antagonized.
"No, I got this yesterday at a work site. I didn't have my safety goggles on. Shit like this happens all the time." He bounced the answer.
"Of course it does, but we have you at the crime scene. A lot of blood and eye membrane tissues, yours. Strike a deal and you'll have less of a sentence." Fin enticed.
"Detective, I'm innocent. I wasn't there and I've never seen Cate Monty in the flesh." Manuel reaffirmed, un-budging.
Fin was through with him and called for a uniform.
"Your to hot to be a cop." Damien Burroughs purred to Nadia.
"Yeah, like I've never heard that one before." Nadia moved from the corner of the room and seated herself in front of Damien.
"Nice hue." She pointed to the bruising at his temple.
"Oh yeah," he consciously leaned back and touched it, "Jina did this last night, I pulled her off some girl at Parkers and she clocked me in the process." He smiled slyly.
I always have some truth to my lies…
"Yeah," Nadia said quickly not believing him. "So, why were you here last night?"
Damien looked at like she hadn't heard anything he said, "Like I said, I was at Parkers last night."
The young detective leered some, then pulled a photo out of a manila next to her, placing it on the table in front of her, setting it between them.
Damien leaned in eyeing the photo, it reflected in his eyes as jumbled orbs each connected to other orbs with cylinder branches.
"Aw, do you like to make digital drawings on your laptop. I think its real pretty." Damien said sarcastically with a laugh.
Nadia smiled and laughed with him, "I'm glad you like it, that's your spit."
He stopped laughing.
"Yeah, a CSU analyst found a nice pile of your drool on Cate Monty's cell floor." She continued to giggle, "Why were you drooling on her floor? Now, I know she's attractive even though she looks like a brunt French fry. But, what the hell?"
Damien didn't reply.
"You know what, I don't care why you were there. But we know you were, and that you got you ass kicked." Nadia concluded calling for a uniform.
"Why do you hate her so much?" John irritated Vince Connors, clasping his hands on the table.
"Well aside from murdering my father by cutting him to pieces, leaving my mother widowed and sisters fatherless, were cool. Yeah, me and Cate are just cool." Vince replied with sharp sarcasm.
"So you admit to coming here last night and attempting to kill her."
"I did no such thing."
"We found gunpowder residue on your hand and pulled slugs out of out the walls. I'm guessing you were the only one packin' heat. Also, we found your blood in the hall. Cate hit you across the face didn't she?" John pushed.
"No, I wasn't there. I was with my wife last night."
John nodded knowing he was lying, "Doesn't matter. We know you and your crew were here last night. You came here to kill Cate Monty, to avenge your father's death and she fought like hell and escaped. No amount of money is going to keep you from going to prison." He added.
Vince leaned in, "I own this town. I'm not going anywhere."
"Yeah sure, officer." He called, a moment later a uniform appeared to escort Vince to lock-up.
"Oh, and Vince," he turned to John. "I forgot to thank you for that ticket. Luck is a great thing, I'll be seeing you in the funny papers."
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"You took a long lunch." Elliot murmured to Olivia as she dumped her purse into her bottom desk drawer and locked it.
"I ran into some traffic." She evaded, "How did it go?"
Elliot clasped his hands and propped his elbows on the desk, "None of them confessed, or even tried to strike a deal. So, their down into lock-up, it's a legal thing now, so it's Casey's ballgame."
Olivia nodded taking her own seat, "Anything else?"
"We found a Billy club and .thirty-eight Glock with a silencer on it, in a trashcan four blocks from here, coated with Cate's prints and lots of blood on the walls and walk surrounding, but the dogs lost the scent." Elliot reported depressingly.
"I wonder whose next." Olivia coincided.
"Or how long she'll wait before she kills again, CSU believes she was shot at least twice." He added.
Olivia nodded, "I doubt that's going to slow her down."
"Yeah, I don't think it will either. She's just too close now."
"I feel so lost…this is such as depressing case…" Olivia trailed off looking out one of the room's windows presenting blatant overcast and misting rain.
He found himself following her eyes to the window.
"Elliot…do you believe in ghosts?"
He was taken aback by her question, then found himself wondering if he really did.
"When I was six…" He looked off with an odd surrealistic look in his eyes, ignoring the hectic surroundings of the office, then abruptly chose to back out to of the conversation, "No, I don't."
Later in the day, Vince Connors, Damien Burroughs, Manuel Montero and Jina Farlane all managed to evade arraignment and made bail. Vince had inherited all his father's contacts, including the Mayor of the city, who pulled some strings with the Chief of Detectives Caitlin O'Connell.
And they all thought she couldn't be bought.
It happened, and the Squad had to move on, focusing back on square one looking for a dead woman.
As for the uniforms in charge of Cate Monty during the graveyard shift; Jimmy O'Malley, Michael Cutter and Charles Chapman, they were all AWOL, vanished from the city, taking their families and saving accounts with them.
They were all wanted now.
Cragen managed to contact Sheriff Oscar Davis before he made a pointless trip to the city and had to tell him the enraging news of Cate's escape. He was quite mad to say the least. Cragen knew it wouldn't be the last time he heard from him either.
The next six days were total and pure harum-scarum for the Squad and station; everyone was on edge waiting for Cate to strike again.
To return from her seclusion, healed, and continue her homicidal rampage.
But were would she strike and who would meet their demise next?
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The Thirty-Fifth Day
September 6, 2005 Tuesday
"It's still raining. I don't get it." Nadia said dryly as she suckled on the lukewarm latté while she perched on John's desk corner.
"It's a sign." John said wiggling his fingers to add drama.
"You two make any progress today?" She nipped at the paper cup, including Fin in the conversation.
"No more then you and Andrew. Nothing but dead ends, I think Cate Monty is a sadist. She's probably watching us sweat this out. Giggling gleefully." He shuffled some manilas.
Nadia nodded agreeing, "Yeah…sadist."
A loud thud echoed from across the large office, causing the two to look toward Cragen's office only to see him step out, straining to pull his blazer on.
He had a look of utter annoyance and sorrow on his face.
"She already killed again, hasn't she?" Fin read Cragen's face aloud.
He merely nodded, "This one sounds pretty bad. De Marko…I think he threw up before he called me. He said something about her evolving to a new…heinous." Cragen couldn't stop the slight chill he felt as he recited the words.
"Who was it?" Olivia interjected closing a manila, standing to pull her jacket on.
"Anita Boze." He recited.
"Boze? The artist?" The realization struck Elliot all most instantly.
"Now that I think about it, yeah, that's her." Cragen realized too, the others started pulling their own jackets on.
"Oh, I have one of her sculptures." John whispered to Nadia as they headed, drearily to the elevators, "I wonder if it will double in value?"
Nadia smirked, "Like you need more money."
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Whoa, De Marko wasn't kidding. Nadia thought, feeling her stomach turn drastically, she couldn't take it anymore, the smell or the graphic, horrendous murder scene before her. She turned on her heel without saying a word, stumbling out into the misting rain to vomit in the nearest alleyway, adjoining the massive art studio.
Apparently she wasn't the only one who had to vomit; she noted someone else's retch spattered on the nearest dumpster as she clutched her weather frizzing hair.
No one went after Nadia, but several of them thought about following suit, vomiting somewhere too.
Have you ever heard the saying, 'It's like watching a train wreck, it's so awful, but you can't bring yourself to look away.'
Ever heard that?
That was how the Squad felt at that very moment as they viewed some of Anita Boze's body in silence.
I don't care what Huang says, she's insane. Elliot gulped back the sour taste in the back of his throat and felt a sudden dryness in his mouth.
Andrew had trouble registering just what he was looking at, he was more stunned then anything, Cate was cutting at the quick now. De Marko was right, she has evolved.
…and I thought there was a lot of blood at Bensyn Connor's murder. How could she? What did she do to Cate to deserve…this? Olivia lamented with the back of her hand over her lips and brushing at her nostrils, nervous habit.
Fin rubbed his hands together and finally managed to look at his shoes, No one should die like that.
Did she write that with a mop? John eyed the large, bold, bloody and strong statement;
"ITS JUST BUSSINES"
Written in wide looping letters on the concrete floor, this kill meant something to Cate, she was selfish in this murder. She took pleasure in it, this was beyond personal, it was much, much deeper.
We had her and she got away, to do this…Cragen blamed himself for the bloody carnage he and his subordinates were observing.
Anita Boze was a Bohemian artist.
Spawned and created all sorts of urban art and massive graffiti that some city residents would pay her to taint bland building walls with brilliant bursts of modern renaissance and the ever enfolding New York City history.
But there was always controversy surrounding her work and art. It was widely speculated that she had a much, much darker side to her psyche. One she wouldn't let anyone in the public eye near.
She had something though; why else would Cate have ended her?
Anita sculpted, painted, welded and had a newer radical type of art; she would chain tree trunks to a secure base and work on them with a chainsaw.
She was good at it to, massive wood carvings all done with a gas power, handheld chainsaw, Yuricks model 411.
Apparently Cate decided to do some carving of her own.
How did they know it was Cate?
Aside from the motive and calling card, they had finger prints, hers everywhere. Cate wasn't very cautious this time, they never lifted a print from her pervious murders; whereas here you could literality see the fine swirls of her finger pads in Anita's blood.
No finely stitched leather gloves worn directly from a specialty shop in Chinatown.
Not this time.
She was close, she didn't care that they knew it was her.
'Catch me if you can, keep me if you can manage.' Was the silent message the fingerprints projected.
Anita Boze had been originally in one piece, as most people are.
Now she was strung up in with the chains she used to fasten tree trunks, and split crotch up with the Yuricks 411 chainsaw.
She was alive when it happened too; M.E. Warner would confirm that later.
Her right leg lie disconnected from her hip in a pool of coagulating crimson. The bone cut clean from the pelvis and oozed pasty marrow. Chucks of thigh with bits of denim jean were spattered here and there in art studio, plastered to nearby boxes and crates, stringy and wet.
The left leg remained attached to her pelvis, but the foot was cut off. A gray colored, now blood drenched tennis shoe was lopsided a few feet in front of the hanging remains. The foot still securely laced in.
An arm was sprawled a few inches from the shoe, every finger obviously broken, each one now twisted into odd angles, gnarled and knobby like a tree branch, a stone shattered class ring wound about the index.
The other appeared to be jerked from the shoulder socket. The only thing keeping gravity from claiming it was a thatch of quickly drying skin, stretched to the point where it looked like some form of putty, unlike the vein, muscle knotted and fat condensed flesh it should be.
Her torso was no exception to Cate's sick wrath.
It was shredded by the chainsaw, her snapped ribs could be viewed and long, stringing stomach innards had seeped from her body. A grotesque pile of intestine, bits of liver and other organs never meant to exist outside the human body lie beneath the hanging torso.
They wondered when the flies would pick up the scent.
Then there was Anita's face, her lips had been split horizontally giving her a hard, twisted doll smile, reinforced by the rouging of her cheeks. Her nose broken, an eye swollen shut, whereas her other eye was missing.
Cragen felt his stomach turn as his eyes probed uncomfortably into the dark gape; the red streaky eye socket with two slowly sinking flaps of skin, both slumping toward her inner socket, the remnants of eyelids.
It was awful.
Bloody and vibrant.
So full of maniacal colors, with bold, unrelenting hate.
This scene said 'look at me'; it was louder then the Kershaw, Garston, Harris, Connors, Braddock or Ong's murders.
It was more violent and vicious.
Primal almost.
What did Anita Boze do to Cate Monty to deserve such a brutal and agonizing death?
"'They are sadists, both living and dead. Then she had her way, that sadistic bitch.'" Elliot quoted while whispering.
Olivia glanced at him, "What?" She found herself whispering too.
"She. Cate said she had her way, 'sadistic bitch'. I'm will to wager Anita Boze, if she really is involved, that she mutilated and maybe even circumcised Cate." He theorized, uncomfortably.
Nadia returned at that moment, breathing slowly and unconsciously wiping her mouth, gulping the soured air, nearly turning green again.
"Make any assessments?" She asked in a shuttered huff.
John crossed his arms turning to her, "Other then Monty should be strapped in a straightjacket and left in a padded room…then no."
"Do we have anything on her?" Olivia asked Cragen.
"On Boze?"
She nodded.
"I'm not sure, do you have a scent?" He questioned finally turning his back on the gruesome scene and moving to a cleaner area for congregation.
"I remember the night she killed Braddock while I was running background checks an 'Anita' came up. The last name escapes me…Boze could be an alias."
Cragen shifted knowing, "Who found her?"
Captain Jordan De Marko stepped in from the sidelines, "Jo Tampa," he pointed to the teenager cowering under an itchy police blanket while sitting in the back of an ambulance at the mouth of the art studio.
"Who is she?" Cragen asked inquisitive.
"An art apprentice, she found Boze an hour ago. She didn't see anyone."
"She wouldn't of, Cate has a pattern like most serial killers, she only kills at night. You want to take her statement?" He directed the question at the sick Nadia.
She almost shrugged, but quickly averted the motion, "Sure." She was about to slip away, shooting Andrew a look for him to accompany her.
The two trudged off toward the misting rain as the others came to a partial circle a few steps away from the yellow tape.
"What's with all the crap I've been hearing about on the news and radio that Monty's some kind of 'Holier then Thou' vigilante. Then she does something like this." De Marko said to anyone who cared to respond.
"She's a killer you know that." Elliot answered.
De Marko nodded, "I've read the case reports about the others she murdered, and between us, who really needed those fucks running around? Bunch of pedophiles and rapists…but why a Bohemian?"
John shrugged at the question, "Anita Boze hasn't been a saint either. You heard about the controversy with her last painting, right?"
The others shook their heads.
"I guess I'm the only one artistically cultured. Anyway, it's some painting of a teenager who slit her wrists in a bathtub…Boze was a supporter of suicide." He clarified.
"We need more information on her," Cragen's cell rang beeped at that moment, he produced it, frowning. "Keep a look out for that eye, I'm going to have to head back. See what you all can find here." Cragen left without another word, it started raining again.
Fin turned back to the scene, "What else is there to find? We have the weapon, forced entry?" He glanced at De Marko who nodded.
"Unclear motive." John grumbled.
"Thank you, John." Fin muttered sarcastically.
"But we know nothing about her." Olivia added focusing on chunks of graying stomach innards.
"I want to know what happened to her other eye. Cate has never taken a trophy." Elliot piped up.
"But she has never chained someone up and taken a chainsaw to their ass either." Fin answered slowly moving around the tape, focusing on the partial body suspended like a puppet, it wavered some due to gravity. The chain links would even creak and clink adding to the surrealism and eeriness of the scene.
"She's a wee bit of a hypocrite too, saying whoever that person was during her interrogation, is a sadist. I mean, look at this." John waved his arms at the quiet slaughter.
"Hey, I said she evolved." De Marko murmured, "I'm thinking ya'll got this. I'm stepping out to." He added as Olivia nodded, he looked grateful as he turned his back to leave.
"Oh damn!" Fin cursed taking a step back causing the others to look in his direction.
"What?" They all asked in an eerie unison.
"I found her eye. Shit, doesn't Cate know green-eyed girls are a rarity?"
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"Alright, Anita Boze real name Anita Garcia. Born in Austin raised in Mexico City, Mexico. Been in trouble most of her life…suffered child abuse, moved back to the States in '89, to Los Angeles. Founded the all female gang Diablo Sidewinders. Rumored to have killed over thirty-six people in gang related incidents, including two undercover cops." Fin took a breath as he preached to the Squad.
"She's sold everything from guns, to drugs, to prostitutes. Served time in Monroe's Maximum Security Prison for mutilating a school teacher. She disappears after that, then came to New York changed her name and become an artist." Fin sarcastically emphasized the part about becoming an artist.
He scanned a few pages in the manila, "Known affiliations: Kat Leblanc, David Hebel, Rosa Sanchez," he sighed seeing the next names, "Jack Kershaw, Jon Rice and Lengsfield Philips."
"Son of a bitch." Olivia muttered at the recognized names.
Andrew shifted uncomfortably; it went unnoticed by the others.
"This is getting ridiculous, you said Hebel, as in one of the Hebel brothers." Elliot directed at Fin.
He glanced at the page, "I guess, I've never heard of him."
Olivia and John looked at him expectantly, "The Hebel brothers, pity thieves, David and Nick. Is it familiar to you?" He directed at Olivia.
She paused thoughtfully, "Now you mention it, I do recall the name from my background check."
"Sands. Nadia Sands!" The voice was high and narrowed; Nadia and the others turned toward the voice to see a uniform and what looked like a bike-messenger with a parcel in his hands.
"Over here, Damon." Nadia waved to the uniform over to the filing cabinets and desks.
The two maneuvered though the desks and finally paused at the congregation at Fin and John's desks.
"You Sands?" The bike-messenger gestured to Nadia as she was perched against John's desk.
She nodded, "Can I see some identification?" He asked clutching the freshly boxed parcel.
Nadia found herself on edge very quickly, wearily glanced at Olivia, feeling all eyes on her as she reached for her badge.
The bike-messenger eyed the forged chunk of metal, "I'll need photo id."
Slowly becoming annoyed, she pulled out her city driver's license embarrassed by the photo of her with very long hair and closed eyes.
The bike-messenger repressed the urge to laugh and handed her the parcel, turning to leave.
Intuition suddenly rapped at her psyche, "Wait," she called to his back, he turned.
"You're not going anywhere. Who sent you?" She held the parcel at arms length as if it could explode.
"Some guy." He lied spreading his arms shrugging.
"Bullshit. I've never been asked for photo id, my badge was always enough. You didn't even ask for a signature." She stood walking toward him; he took a few steps back the others picking up on the scent, eyeing the bike-messenger too.
"Look, I didn't do anything. Some chick gave me this package on the side, gave me an extra twenty to get this to you within the hour and make sure it was you." He finally came clean but looked like a deer about to bolt with all the officers focusing on him.
"What does she look like?" Elliot jumped in.
"Red-head, total fox, was wearing this real pretty scarf around her neck." He answered, becoming more edgy every moment.
Nadia turned away some gingerly setting the parcel down on her desk, reaching for a tissue to cover her fingers with and pulled out her most likely illegal butterfly knife and slowly went to work on the box.
"What did she say to you? Did she have any scaring?" Fin stepped in.
The bike-messenger looked wearily at him, with Damon still blocking his path, "Nothing, just what I said. She looked tired though and smelled like she had been burning something. And she had a black eye, that's it. I know my rights, I didn't do anything."
"Shit." Nadia whispered reading the letter she pulled from the box carefully with the butterfly knife and tissue, "Captain!" She called across the office, with a swift urgency in her voice.
Cragen stepped out of his open office seconds later at her outburst, his eyes saying everything.
John moved in next to Nadia quickly reading the letter aloud that had gotten her so frazzled, "Detective Sands. Our conversation during my temporary incarceration woke me up to the possibility that Kim Ong may have a partner in the sex trade. I was right. Early this morning after I killed Anita Garcia—I'm sure you've found the body—I went after my next target, Nick Hebel."
He took a short breath, "As it turns out he and Ong were partners. Enclosed is the address book containing the locations of all the slave houses in the city. I'm only one person, I did investigate these houses and do not have the firepower or back-up to take the task of liberating the children myself. I give this task to you all. Godspeed."
He paused again, "Also, Nick Hebel's body is at the Firewater Bar and Billiard Hall. I burned it down this morning. I'm not screwing with any of you, don't interpret this letter that way, but I am just staying one step ahead. I'm nearly done and soon you will never hear from me again. Sincerely, Cate Monty."
John concluded as Nadia dug out some blue latex gloves from the bottom of her desk, she snapped them on avoiding wincing at the sharp sting it caused.
"What conversation?" John asked Nadia, "Did you speak to her without authorization?"
Nadia chose to ignore him for the moment and instead slowly retracted the thoroughly worn blue address book from the parcel.
"Where was this at?" Elliot approached the bike-messenger who stepped back again, intimidated by Elliot's stature.
"What?"
"This transaction. Where was it at?"
"I was at the corner of avenue twelve and Percy Street. She approached me. That's all I know." He replied defensibly.
Elliot nodded depressingly, "She's out of the vicinity by now." Olivia prophesied.
"She's cleaning house, two murders a few hours part. She knows she's running out of time." Fin added.
"There are four different locations in here." Nadia reported to Cragen who was eyeing her with suspicion, he'd would reprimand her about this 'conversation' later.
"This could be a distraction." John theorized about the slave houses, "She may be setting us up so she could go after her next target. A bigger target even."
Cragen shifted at his comment, "Could be, but I don't want to take any chances. Get ready to move out."
(End Chapter Thirteen)
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