"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Charles Beauchamp said. He sat back in the prison conference room chair with a big, smug smile on his face. "I'm very sorry about the abduction of Lily, but I was just as shocked to hear about it as you were."

Casey wasn't a violent woman. In fact, she had seen her fair share of the horrible results of violence in her daily job to never even consider resorting to it--until now. Right at this moment, sitting across from this rat bastard, Casey wanted nothing more than to pick up her suitcase and hit Beauchamp with it. She wanted to keep bashing him in the head with it until she wiped that stinking smug smile right off his face. Yet she kept her calm, as well as her poker face.

"Oh yeah, I can see just how broken up you are over it," Casey said coldly, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"What happened to that poor little girl is terrible," Alexis Norton said, and for once she actually sounded sincere. "But how can you even think that my client had anything to do with--"

"You know full well that since your client is the only one who benefits from these recent events, that makes him the prime suspect," Casey said.

"So where's your evidence?" Norton asked.

Casey merely replied with her own smug smile. Even as they spoke, Hector was working with Neville to track down Beauchamp's little friend Samuel Childs.

'Speaking of which….' Casey thought.

"Mr. Beauchamp, I understand you've had a regular visitor here," Casey said. "A gentleman by the name of Childs?"

"Yes," Beauchamp said. "He's an old friend."

Casey noted that even Norton looked momentarily surprised to hear this. But she quickly recovered and said, "My client is entitled to have visitors. Mr. Childs' visits have nothing to do with you."

"They do if Mr. Beauchamp is using Childs to pass information along to Lily's kidnappers," Casey retorted.

Beauchamp abruptly barked out rancorous laughter. "You're insane," he sneered. "I told you that I have nothing to do with Linda and Lily's abduction."

That last remark got Casey's attention. She never told Beauchamp that Linda was originally going to be abducted as well--until Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler had wrecked the kidnappers' best laid plans. "You mean you had nothing to do with Lily's abduction, don't you?"

For the first time all day, Charles Beauchamp looked uneasy. "Uh, yeah, that's what I meant."

'You son of a bitch,' Casey angrily thought. She leaned forward and said, "If there's anything you have to tell me about Lily's abduction, Mr. Beauchamp, now is that time to say it. And if what you say helps us find Lily, then I will consider leniency for you."

Beauchamp sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling as if Casey was no longer there.

When her cell rang, Casey hoped it was Hector. "Yeah, Novak."

"We got it," Hector told her. "We've found Childs' photo ID and address in the files at the Visitor's Center."

"Thank you, I'll be right there." Casey closed her cell phone and began packing her things away in her briefcase. Yet before she left, Casey paused at the doorway and said, "Last chance, Mr. Beauchamp. If you have any information which could help us find Lily safe and sound, tell me now. Once I walk out this door, all deals are null and void."

Beauchamp continued staring at the ceiling as if he found something fascinating up there. Norton just shook her head and said, "We'll have our day in court, Casey."

Casey left the conference room without another word. She headed over to the Visitor Center's Main Officer, where she found Hector and Neville hunched over one of the TV screens at the main console.

Hector handed her a photocopy of a driver's license. "That's Samuel Childs."
Casey gazed steadily at the face on the card. He was a beefy-looking man in a dark suit with salt and pepper style hair. While extremely debonair and neat in appearance, Childs still had a very 'rough around the edges' look to him. 'Is he an ex-con?' she wondered.

"I don't suppose he raised any red flags with the warrant office?" Casey asked. All visitors to Rikers Island were given extensive background checks, including having their IDs faxed to a Warrant Office in the Bronx to see if they were wanted on any outstanding warrants. It was surprising how many felons were grabbed this way.

Neville shook his head. "Clean as a whistle."

"Did Beauchamp have any other visitors?" Casey asked. "Other than his lawyer and Childs?"

"No," Neville replied.

Hector consulted his watch. "I really gotta get going, Casey. I wish I could have been more help."

"No problem, Hector, the SVU detectives can take it from here on," Casey told him. "Thanks for all you've done."

"A fat lot of good it'll do that poor girl," Hector said sadly. "I just wish I had gotten that info to you sooner."

"Nonsense, you've been a big help," Casey assured him. "The Manhattan SVU has had plenty of experience in tracking down missing and kidnapped children. I'm sure Don Cragen's got the entire team working at full speed by now."

Special Victim's Unit

16 Precinct

Manhattan

Donald Cragen watched through the glass of the two-way mirror into the interrogation room and let out a heavy sigh of exasperation.

Olivia sat at the table, being grilled by two detectives from the Internal Affairs Bureau. They were questioning her, once again, about when she fired on one of the kidnappers.

"When you shot at that man, didn't you realize you were firing in a schoolyard filled with children?" he said in an accusing tone.

"As I've stated before," Olivia said patiently, "it was in the middle of the school day. The children were all inside. So I had a clear line of fire. Plus, I did not shoot until I was sure I could hit his leg. I was not shooting to kill."

Elliot came in and stood next to Cragen. He glared at the third degree Olivia was getting in the interrogation room. "I thought Liv and I were cleared at the scene," he said angrily.

"You were," Cragen replied. "But there are a lot of worried parents who had children attending that school--one of whom is a city councilmember with connections to City Hall. Hence the microscope that's being held over Olivia right now by the IAB. Right now they're going over Olivia shooting Linda Beauchamp's kidnapper for the second time. Speaking of that kidnapper, did you identify him yet?"

Elliot shook his head. "He clammed up at the hospital. Won't talk without his lawyer present. I took his fingerprints and now I'm waiting for a hit back on them."

"Did CSU find anything useful in the garage where they switched cars?"

"Nah, nothing," Elliot replied. "They couldn't even find any prints on the van that was left behind. These guys were pretty slick, captain."

"Well maybe once we find out who this fellow is in the hospital we can crack this pretty quickly," Cragen said. "I've got Fin and John out right now running down Marcus Sewell."

"All right, Benson," one of the IAB detectives said, "let's take it from the beginning once more, shall we?"
"Oh for crying out loud!" Cragen said to Elliot. "They've already went over it twice, now!"

"You say you arrived at the school because you were responding to a kidnap attempt on Lily Beauchamp--which was a crime you didn't exactly stop, now, did you, Benson?" the IAB detective said in a snooty manner. "Not much of a cop, are you?"

"Enough of this bullshit," Cragen muttered, as he stepped into the interrogation room. "Excuse me gentlemen, but unless Detective Benson is being charged with something right now, then I'm clearing her to return to work."

One of the IAB detectives, who couldn't have been more than twenty five at most, stood up and said, "Hold on, Cragen--"

"That's Captain Cragen to you, son," he firmly reminded him. "Which is something that the both of you need to remember, because neither of you have the rank to countermand any order I give, unless you're here to arrest somebody. Now, once again, is Detective Benson under arrest?"

When both IAB detectives glanced uneasily at each other, Cragen knew this was nothing more than politics. Somebody within the department who either had a beef with the SVU, or was simply trying to make a name for himself with his superiors, called these IAB mutts down here to breathe down Olivia's neck and see what dirt they could dig up.

"Liv," Cragen gently said, "get back to work."

Although Olivia didn't say anything, the look of relief on her face was obvious as she got up from the desk and left the room.

"Our investigation is not over," one of the IAB detectives told Cragen.

"And neither is mine," Cragen replied. "I'm trying to find a little girl who has just been kidnapped a few hours ago, and I need every one of my best detectives on the case--including Olivia Benson, who is one of the very best in my squad. And until the day comes when you two clowns actually decide to do some real police work, you have no right to make any snippy comments on her actions as a cop. You understand me?"

Cragen turned his back on them and strode out to the squad room, where Elliot stood talking with Olivia at his desk.

"Elliot tells me you had no joy with the bodega that was across the street from the garage," Cragen said to Olivia.

Olivia grimly shook her head. "Nobody saw a thing."

"Rats leaving the building!" someone in the squad room announced, as the two IAB detectives morosely walked out of the squad room. Every cop in the room stopped what they were doing and glared at the IAB men until they left.

"You hear back on those fingerprints from the kidnapper, yet?" Olivia asked Elliot.

"No, still waiting."

"Did you tell them it was an emergency?" Olivia said. "A little girl's life is at stake here."

"I did. I told them it was a rush job for the Lily Beauchamp kidnapping case. But we're still waiting."

"I'll give them a call," Cragen said as he walked to his office. "See if I can't give them a little nudge."

"I hope Casey is having better luck," Elliot muttered.

District Attorney's Office

Manhattan

"Yeah, all right, thanks," Casey said with a heavy sigh, just before she hung up the phone.

'Nada, zilch!' she thought dismally. Casey had asked for another check on Beauchamp's financial records, and had just discovered the man was flat broke. What little money he had left were tied up in paying Norton's lawyer fees, which were what drained his accounts to begin with.

'So if Beauchamp is behind this whole scheme, then how is he funding it?' Casey wondered, as she left her office to get more paper for her printer.

When she entered the supply room, Casey was startled to see Kelly standing there, quickly wiping her face with a tissue. "I, um, had something in my eye," she said feebly, as she brushed past Casey on her way out the door. Despite her lame explanation, it was obvious that she had been crying.

'All right, that's enough,' Casey thought with a shake of her head.

"Kelly," she called to the woman. "Would you come with me, please?"

Kelly opened her mouth, as if to protest, but then thought better of it and resignedly followed Casey into her office. Once they were inside, Casey closed the door for privacy and gestured for Kelly to grab a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk.

Casey sat in the chair next to her and gently said, "What's going on, Kelly?"

Kelly bit her lower lip, looking as if she wanted to be anywhere but here right now. "I'm fine, Casey, really."

"No, you're not," Casey said firmly. "You're not in the habit of bursting into tears at the drop of a hat. Look, if it's really personal--then, fine, tell me to mind my own business. But I wouldn't be much of a friend if I ignored what are pretty obvious signs that you're in a great deal of pain."

Kelly's response to that was to promptly break down and cry.

Casey stared at her, dumbfounded, for a moment. Then she got up and retrieved a box of tissues from her desk and gave them to Kelly.

"Hey, hey, easy," Casey said soothingly. "Whatever it is, Kelly, you can--"

"He left me," Kelly blurted out in-between her sobs.

Casey shook her head sympathetically. Kelly had been dating some Wall Street hotshot over the past few months, and it looked like this guy might really have been the one for her--at least until now. "You guys broke up?"

"No, he left me!" Kelly cried. "I came home last night and he was gone! All of his stuff was gone! At first I thought he had disappeared, until I called him, and he just said, 'Oh yeah, sorry baby, but it wasn't working out. Have a nice life'!"

"Oh my God," Casey said, stunned. "That rat bastard!"

Kelly gave her a look of disbelief. "You believe that? The relationship wasn't working out for him, so he just ups and leaves me without even saying a word!" She let out a heavy sigh. Her crying jag appeared to be over. "I've got to get back to work. Tracey's probably wondering where I am right now."

"Ok. Look, I know this really sucks," Casey said, as they both got up. "But maybe this is just as well. At least you've found out that he's a selfish pig and you're rid of him in one fell swoop."

"Yeah, but it still hurts," Kelly said sadly. She turned and walked to the door. Then she abruptly paused and added, "Hey, Casey? Thanks."

"Anytime," Casey replied. "I'd ask if you'd want to have a drink later, but I may be working very late tonight."

"You're working the Lily Beauchamp case," Kelly said, as she nodded in understanding. "Listen, you need any help with that, you know where to find me."

Casey watched as Kelly walked out of her office. She slowly shook her head at how horribly that sweet woman had been treated by her boar of a boyfriend. The thought of Elliot just leaving her high and dry was just incomprehensible. He would never do anything like that. If there was ever a problem between them, Elliot would tell her. He would. He would tell her.

'He would tell me, wouldn't he?' Casey anxiously wondered.

East 34th Street

Yonkers, New York

'Where is she?' Munch thought, as he sat in the car.

They traced Marcus Sewell to this address that he had left at Rikers. It was the home of his aunt, Gayle Sewell--only nobody was home right now. When Fin checked with a neighbor, she told him that Gayle was out at the store and would be back very shortly.

Munch glanced at his watch. That was almost an hour ago. 'What's Gayle doing,' he wondered, 'stocking up on food in preparation for the apocalypse?'

Fin was out getting coffee and sandwiches from the restaurant on the corner, so all Munch could do was sit in the car and sulk. What was really frustrating about this situation was that Marcus Sewell had served his entire sentence for armed robbery, which meant that when he was released from prison, he was truly free to go wherever he pleased. And if he was in fact involved in Lily Beauchamp's kidnapping, then Sewell could be anywhere in the country--or even out of it--by now.

When his cell rang, Munch hoped it was somebody from the one six with some good news. "Munch."

"Howdy!" a female voice said cheerily.

Munch broke into a smile. The caller wasn't from the one six, but her voice was just as welcome nevertheless. "Hey, Alex."

"What's wrong?" Alexandra Eames said, concerned. "You sound a little down."

"Have you heard about the Lily Beauchamp kidnapping case in mid-town earlier today?" Munch asked.

"Yeah, we got the Amber Alert on that," Alex replied. She worked as a detective with the NYPD's Major Case Squad. She and Munch first got together when their respective squads worked jointly on the Edward Lister assassination case a year ago, and they had been steadily dating ever since.

"Yeah, well yours truly is presently on a stake out for a sweet little old lady who may be connected with that case."

There was a pause on Alex's side. "You think the little old lady kidnapped the kid?"

"Yeah, she's really Ma Barker," Munch said with a chuckle. "No, actually, the sweet little old lady's an aunt of a suspect whom we believe might have been involved with the kidnapping."

"Oh. Well, I'm working a scene right now with Bobby, and I just called to let you know that I might be late tonight--real late, in fact. It sucks, 'cause I haven't seen you in a while, now, Johnny."

Munch could almost hear the poutiness in her voice. "I may be burning the midnight oil, as well tonight," he replied. "So, if you want, stop by the one six later. It doesn't matter how late."

"That sounds good," she said. "Uh-oh, I gotta go; Bobby's making those gestures at me right now."

"What kind of gestures?" Munch asked.

"The kind that means we're gonna be working all night," Alex said with a sigh. "Talk to you later, love."

"Talk to you then, take care."

"You too."

Fin came back with the coffee and sandwiches just as Munch closed his cell phone. "Was that Eames?" he asked as he got in the car. When Munch nodded, he added, "You give her my love?"

"No," Munch flatly replied.

Fin shot him a hurt look. "Why not?"

"Because you're not the one who's dating her, are you?"

"You really get cranky when you're hungry, don't you, John?" Fin took out his sandwich and coffee and then handed Munch the bag.

Munch removed the sandwich and cup of coffee and placed them on top of the dashboard. Then he upended the bag and shook it so that the bags of sugar could fall out--only there were no bags of sugar. Munch peered into the bag and confirmed that it was, indeed, empty.

"Where's the sugar?" Munch asked.

"Didn't get it," Fin said after a sip of his coffee.

"Since when did this habit start?"

"Since I heard it wasn't good for ya," Fin replied.

"What are you, my mother?"

"No," Fin said. "Thank God!"

Munch glared at him. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're such a major pain in the ass now, that I can't imagine what it must have been like for your poor, suffering mother," Fin replied. "She should be made a saint for putting up with your cranky, bony ass. Same goes for Eames, too. Don't know what she sees in you, man, but Eames is a real special woman for looking past your faults."
Munch thought long and hard about what Fin just said. "You know, I can't really argue with that," he admitted. "In fact, I actually agree with you."

"There, see?" Fin said after a bite of his sandwich. "At last you acknowledge my vast wisdom."

"Well, no, I wouldn't go that far!" Munch shot back. He did a double take when an elderly woman came walking down the street, pulling a cart filled with groceries. "Hold it, is this Aunt Gayle?"

"Let's find out," Fin said, as he put the sandwich down and got out of the car.

"Ms. Sewell?" Munch asked, as they approached the woman.

The old woman stared at them warily. "Yes?"

"We're detectives," Fin said, as he and Munch held out their badges for her to see. "NYPD. We're looking for your nephew, Marcus."

"Oh lord, what sort of trouble has he gotten himself into this time?" Gayle Sewell said. She had the weary air of a woman who had faced a great deal of disappointment in her life. "He just got out of jail a few days ago!"
"We just want to talk with him, ma'am, that's all," Munch said. Technically, that was the truth. But what Munch left out was the fact that he and Fin would be speaking with Marcus Sewell down at the stationhouse.

"I don't know where he might be," Gayle Sewell said, frowning. "He came home from prison a few days ago, and then he just upped and left. Told me he was going to celebrate his release."

"When did he come back?" Fin asked.

"Never did," she replied. "Haven't seen or heard from him since."

Munch exchanged a suspicious look with Fin. Obviously Sewell had joined the crew that kidnapped Lily Beauchamp. 'If we can just get inside the house,' Munch thought. 'We might find something that tells us the whereabouts of Marcus. But we don't have a search warrant.'

When he glanced at the cart filled with groceries, Munch got an idea. "That looks very heavy. Could we help you with it, ma'am?"

"I would sure appreciate it!" she said.

Munch escorted the old woman up the stoop of her house while Fin grabbed the cart and pulled it up behind them. "And so you have no idea where Marcus is right now?" Munch asked.

"No, I don't," Gayle admitted, as she opened the front door with her keys. "But if you find him, I would sure like to know so I could give him a piece of my mind!"

"Oh, we will," Munch said, as he stepped aside in the foyer to let Fin pull the cart into the house.

"Where do you want this, ma'am?" Fin asked.

"Oh, just wheel it into the kitchen," she told him. "I'll unload it later."

"It's really a shame how Marcus just took off like that," Munch told her.

"He just walked in, threw his stuff into his bedroom, and then told me he was going out," Gayle Sewell said, in a shocked tone of voice. "He even told me that he would be late, but I never knew Marcus would be several days late! Go up and see his bedroom, and you'll see what I mean!"

"Really!" Munch said, trying to sound as shocked as she was. "Is his bedroom right up these stairs?"

"Up the stairs, and to your left," she directed. "Go and see! Everything is still just how he left it a few days ago! It's a disgrace, I tell you!"

"It is, indeed," Munch said sympathetically. "Fin, let's go take a look at Marcus' room, shall we?"

Fin stood behind the old woman with a knowing smile on his face. Although they had no search warrant, Munch had deftly managed to circumvent that fact by getting permission from Gayle, the owner of the house, to go into Marcus Sewell's room. Their investigation was still on track.

"Can I get you boys something?" Gayle asked as they went up the steps. "Some tea, perhaps?"

"Oh no, ma'am," Fin replied. "Don't go through any trouble on our account."

"It's no trouble," she called after them. "I just wish my nephew was as nice as you two young men!"

"Young men?" Munch said as they entered Marcus' room. "It's been a while since anybody called me young."

"Damn," Fin muttered in frustration, as he glanced around the bedroom. "Doesn't look like there's much here, John."

Munch put on a pair of latex gloves and then opened the top drawer of a dresser. It was empty. "She was right, Marcus really didn't stay long, did he?"

"And looks like he took all his shit with him, too," Fin said, as he gazed into an empty closet. "You know, I don't think…."

Munch had peered into a wastepaper basket--which turned out to be empty-- when Fin abruptly stopped speaking. "You don't think--what?"

Fin stood before the only window in the room, staring outside. "John, get over here."

"What is it?"

"Just get over here and look at this, man!"

Munch walked over and gazed out the window, which overlooked a dead end street that appeared to have been used as a garbage dump. He really didn't see anything out of the ordinary--until he saw a pair of legs sticking out from under a mattress. "Oh, crud…."

They bounded down the steps and were out the door in under a minute. Munch thought he heard Gayle calling after them, but he didn't want to stop and explain to her that they were on their way to examine a dead body right now.

They walked up the side street, which was blocked off at one end by an old dilapidated building, until they came to the pair of legs that stuck out from under the mattress. When Fin began to lift the mattress off the body, Munch had this crazy image of seeing the sprawled out body of the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard Of Oz, which had been flattened by Dorothy's house.

Instead, they found a dead African-American man who lay with his eyes shut. It almost looked as if he were sleeping--were it not for the gaping bullet hole in the side of his head.

"Don't tell me that's--" Munch started to say.

"It is," Fin said with a sigh, as he held a picture of Marcus Sewell next to the body. "It's Marcus, all right."

"Found dead on a dead end street," Munch commented. "Now that's irony."

"You could also say the same for our investigation," Fin said dourly. "It's come straight to a dead end!"

To be continued...