"Man, I can't believe it's morning already!" Fin moaned, as he glanced at his watch.
"Technically, it's been morning for the past seven hours or so," Munch said, as he kept searching through the college photo Ids on the computer. "It becomes morning after midnight."
"Yeah, well, it's not really morning to me until the sun comes up," Fin replied.
Munch glanced around the computer record room that he, Fin and Gina were in--a room that was devoid of any windows--and said, "Do you see the sun shining anywhere in here?"
"No, but--" Fin started say.
"Then it's not officially morning, ok?" Munch retorted. "It's still last night. And so, congratulations! You're not really as tired as you think you are."
"You mean it's still tonight, right?" Gina asked, looking up from her computer console. "You can't say it's last night if it's still nighttime."
"Unless it's nighttime and you're referring to the previous night," Fin told her. "Which is actually last night."
"Why do I feel like I'm in an Abbott & Costello routine?" Munch said, as he took off his glasses and rubbed his face with his hands.
It took them the better part of the night (or morning, depending on one's point of view) just to find the damn computer records that contained the photo Ids in the first place. But that wasn't the end of their search; they still had to go through at least several dozen discs--one Goddamn picture at a time--in their hunt to prove that Claire Stephenson had taken Charles Beauchamp's class under the fake name of Coral Stevens. The process so far had been slow and tedious.
"I'm sorry," Gina said sheepishly. "I didn't mean--"
"No, I should apologize," Munch said with a sigh as he put his glasses back on. "I didn't mean to bite your heads off. Well, I always mean to bite Fin's head off, but it was nothing personal with you, Gina."
"He's just a cranky old bastard," Fin said conspiratorially to Gina, "just do what I do and ignore him."
When Munch glanced at his watch, something occurred to him. "It's not that I don't appreciate your help, Gina, but didn't your shift end already?"
"Yeah, it ended about an hour and a half ago," Gina said solemnly. "But I want to stay and help, if you guys don't mind. It's just that…well, I've got a little girl the same age as Lilly Beauchamp…so I want to help Lilly out in any way I can."
"You been a huge help so far," Fin told her. "We appreciate it."
"Yes," Munch readily agreed. "Thank you for everything."
When Munch glanced back at the computer screen, he gave the new photo ID that came up a double take. Claire Stephenson's stern visage stared balefully back at him from a photo ID that belonged to Coral Stevens. Munch leaned forward for a better view. She was younger, and her hairstyle was different, but it was indeed Claire Stephenson in the picture.
"You two can stop searching," Munch said, "because I found her."
Fin and Gina came over and peered at Munch's computer screen. Fin broke into a broad grin and said, "Well, well, well…if it isn't the Wicked Witch of Park Avenue!"
Munch couldn't help but break into a smile. It had been a long night, but this coming day held the promise of being a very productive one.
----------------------------------------------------------
District Attorney's Office
Manhattan
"Thank you, John, Fin," Casey said. She had a broad grin on her face as she gazed at Claire Stephenson's picture on the photo ID of Coral Stevens. 'Got you now, bitch!'
"It was our extreme pleasure," Fin said. Both he and Munch looked a little tired, yet they were just as happy as Casey was.
"I hate to grab evidence and run," Casey said, as she picked up her bag from her desk, "but I've got a judge to see."
"Don't let us keep you," Munch told her. "The sooner you get the warrant, the sooner we can move in on the Wicked Witch of Park Avenue."
Casey burst into laughter as she left her office with the detectives. "That name really suits her! Just try not to use it in her presence…or in the presence of her attorney, for that matter."
"We promise!" Munch said, holding up his hand in the Boy Scout pledge.
Casey shook her head in embarrassment. "Sorry for being a hard-ass, guys, but this damn case has got me on edge! Now that we've finally got a solid lead, I don't want to jinx it. I'll see you two later?"
"You know where to find us," Fin said. "At the precinct."
"We'll catch a few winks in the crib, first," Munch said.
"You guys have been working all night!" Casey said with concern. "You're not going home?"
"And miss out on the take down of the Wicked Witch Of Park Avenue?" Munch asked, as if she were crazy. "Hell, no!"
"Damn straight," Fin said. "I'm even bringing a water pistol just in case she gets feisty."
"Good idea!" Munch told him. "It'll be fun to watch her melt underneath her pointy hat."
Casey was still chuckling when she arrived at Arthur Branch's office. She couldn't get the image of Claire Stephenson as the Wicked Witch from the Wizard Of Oz out of her mind, thanks to Munch and Fin. Branch's secretary gave her an odd look as she waved Casey into his office.
Before she entered, Casey made sure she wiped all traces of humor from her face. It wouldn't do for an Assistant District Attorney to be giggling like a schoolgirl while she explained the latest development in a case to her boss, no matter how good the news was.
Branch was on the phone when she walked up to the desk, yet he still motioned for her to take a seat. "Yeah," he said into the phone. "All right, Jack. Listen, be sure to let Green and Fontana know that if they need any help cutting through the red tape, to just give me a call. Right, talk to you soon."
Branch hung up the phone and then sat back in his seat with a weary expression. He sat there, deep in thought, for a few seconds until he suddenly remembered she was in the room. "Yes, Casey?"
'Something's wrong,' Casey realized. 'Another case must be going badly for him.' Casey often got so wrapped up in her own workload that she forgot that Branch had to juggle so many other cases that the D.A. office dealt with on a daily basis.
"I've got grounds for a warrant on Claire Stephenson's convict group, as well as her private property," Casey said. She went on to explain that Munch and Fin had found proof that she did know Charles Beauchamp, effectively catching her in a lie that she'd told to detectives. She concluded, "I'm headed out to the judge right now."
"That's great news, Casey," Branch said with not much enthusiasm. It was obvious that his other problem--whatever it was--still weighed heavily on his mind. "Get the warrants and then have your SVU people lean on Stephenson. Any word on Lilly Beauchamp's whereabouts?"
She shook her head. "I haven't heard any news yet."
"Well, we've got another problem," Branch said with a heavy sigh. "You know Alex Borgia, right? She's Jack's second chair."
"Yes, of course. I was speaking with her last night, when we were toasting Alex Cabot's return."
"Alex didn't show up for work today," Branch said grimly. "She never left a message, or anything. So I had a patrol check out her apartment, and it looks like it was broken into, with no sign of Alex. Green and Fontana, the detectives at the two-seven who are working the case, they think she might have been abducted."
"Oh my God!" Casey cried in horror. "Do they have any idea who might have done it?"
"Yeah. We think it may have something to do with one of Alex's prior cases," Branch said, with a sad shake of his head. "It looks like we're dealing with two kidnap cases, now: Lilly Beauchamp and Alex Borgia, one of our own."
Casey was too stunned for words. She stared down mutely at the paperwork in her hands. Despite the shock she felt for her colleague, a little voice at the back of her mind told Casey that she needed to get moving with the warrants. "Arthur, I'm sorry," she said sheepishly, "but I really have to get these before a judge…."
"Don't you be sorry," Branch firmly told her, as he leaned forward in his seat. "The business of this office must continue, no matter what happens. So you go right ahead; I'll keep you and everybody else appraised of the situation with Alex."
"Ok," Casey said as she turned and left his office. The shock of what he had just told her still didn't really sink in until something occurred to her. 'Sweet Jesus, I was just talking to Alex last night!' Casey realized with horror. 'Did she get abducted right after she came home from our party! God, just when I was beginning to think this would be a good day!'
Fin suddenly appeared at the far end of the hallway and waved to her. "Casey! You got a visitor!"
Casey gave at the SVU detective a puzzled look. "Since when did you start working the front desk of the D.A.'s office, Fin?"
"While we were on our way out, Munch and I ran into somebody who was waiting for you out front," Fin said. "It's Rachel Gibbons."
Just when Casey thought she couldn't be any further shocked than she had already been today, her jaw dropped open at the mention of that name. Rachel Gibbons was one of Charles Beauchamp's victims; like his other victims, Rachel had beentoo afraid of him to testify. "Did she say what she wanted?"
"Only to speak with you," Fin told her. "Munch and I brought them to your office."
"Them?" Casey asked, as she promptly did an abrupt 180 and walked back down the hallway to her office with Fin by her side
"Rachel's here with her mom," Fins said. "And the old lady don't look too happy about her being here, either!"
When she arrived at her office, Casey found Rachel sitting on the sofa with her mother, Myrna. Munch was seated in a chair opposite from them.
"Rachel, Myrna, hello!" Casey said, as she entered her office. She sat down in the seat that Munch quickly vacated for her. "I'm told you wanted to see me. What can I do for you?"
To look at Rachel Gibbons, one would never have guessed that she had been the victim of a brutal sexual assault. She was a lovely young woman in her early twenties with dark brown hair that was pulled back into a pony tail. Her black wire-rimmed glasses only added to Rachel's beauty, giving her pretty face a warm, gentle look of deep intelligence and sensitivity.
"You don't have to do this, Rachel!" Myrna said, obviously upset.
"Mom, please," Rachel pleaded in a pained tone of voice.
Casey leaned forward in her seat and gazed steadily at Rachel. "Do what?"
Rachel began to speak, until she began to tear up. Munch offered her a box of tissues, yet she rejected them. "That little girl, the one who had been kidnapped, Lilly Beauchamp," Rachel finally said.
"Yes?" Casey said. "What about her?"
"Charles Beauchamp is behind her abduction, isn't he?" Rachel asked, her voice trembling.
"He's a prime suspect," Casey replied. "We believe he's certainly involved."
"I-I want to testify against him in court," Rachel said. "About what he did to me."
"Rachel, think about what you're doing, here!" Myrna cried. "If he kidnapped that little girl, then he can kidnap you, too!"
Before Casey could step in, Rachel turned to her mother and shouted, "Charles Beauchamp tied me down to a bed, and he did whatever the hell he wanted to me, mother! For the better part of a day, I was nothing more than a thing for him to use at his leisure!"
"Don't you think I know that, baby! I just--"
"No, mother, you don't know!" Rachel said, with the firmness of steel in her voice. "I didn't stand up to him when I had the chance, and because of that, that poor little girl is now his latest victim! Charles Beauchamp thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants--even from jail--but he's dead wrong. He's got to be stopped, and if I have to be the one who does it, then so be it." Rachel then stared right at Casey and added, "Just tell me what to do, Casey, and I'll do it."
"Thank you so much, Rachel!" Casey said, and she meant it sincerely. In less than an hour, she'd received some serious ammunition to bring to bear against both Claire Stephenson and Charles Beauchamp.
'If this is any indication of how the rest of the day will go,' Casey thought, 'then I hope it means that Lilly and Alex Borgia will be all right!'
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North Tommersing was a deceptively quiet upper middle class suburban town with well-kept houses on quiet, tree-lined streets. It was essentially a bedroom community, one of many that surrounded New York City in a broad radius that included the states of New Jersey and Connecticut, as well as Upstate New York. As Elliot drove through the streets, he noted that North Tommersing's peacefulness was in sharp contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city.
But this peace and tranquility was shattered by the sight of a fleet of police cars parked in the street just ahead of them. A local police officer stood in front of the scene, directing traffic away from the area. Elliot wondered if the guy ever saw this much excitement in his entire career.
"Here it is," he told Olivia.
"Did they go in yet?" she asked frantically.
"We'll find out soon enough," Elliot replied, as he pulled the car up to the cop and showed him their police badges. Once the cop was satisfied they were NYPD, he waved them through.
Elliot parked the car a ways behind a SWAT truck. Then he got out, removed his suit jacket and threw it on the front seat. He walked around back to the trunk and grabbed the flak jackets. He handed one to Olivia, whom he noticed wore a black t-shirt with the word "GOAL!" written across the chest in bold white lettering. If the situation wasn't so dire, he would have made a joke about it.
Once they secured their flak jackets, Elliot scanned the crowd for Cragen. He found the SVU Captain speaking to a SWAT commander by a squad car. Once Cragen saw them, he glared at Olivia.
"What are you doing here?" he said to Olivia, who stared sheepishly at the ground. "Olivia, I thought I made it clear that--"
"I brought her," Elliot spoke up. "I figured she should be here, no matter what happens."
Cragen's intimidating glare now focused on Elliot. "Oh, really? Are you the new SVU commander, now?"
"No," Elliot said uneasily. "I just figured that when this is over, Lilly will need to see a friendly face. That's why I brought Liv."
To Elliot's surprise, after a brief hesitation, Cragen simply nodded his head and said, "All right. C'mon. We're about to go in."
Olivia exchanged an astonished look with Elliot as they followed Cragen over to the side of a delivery van. Cragen nodded at a two story home down the street and said, "That's where the phone call came from. We're waiting for the second squad to get in position at the back of the house."
Elliot stared at the house where Lilly was being held captive. It looked for all the world like a normal home in the suburbs. He hoped Lilly was all right.
'I guess we'll find out soon enough,' he thought grimly.
"Second team's in place," the SWAT commander told Cragen. "We're going in now."
The SWAT commander made a hand gesture, and then he and his black-garbed men started running down the street at a full run, their weapons at the ready, their faces hidden by the masks they wore under their helmets. Cragen, Elliot and Olivia followed close behind them, being careful not to get in their way.
No sooner did they hit the front porch then two of the advance team of SWAT team members crashed through the front door, using a battering ram. Once the door was open, they all flowed inside, and Elliot suddenly heard men shouting loudly.
"GET DOWN! GET DOWN ON THE FUCKING FLOOR!"
"DON'T SHOOT, PLEASE DON'T SHOOT ME!"
When Elliot entered the house with Olivia by his side, he saw several men lying facedown on the floor of the living room, being frisked by their SWAT captors. A second company of SWAT members ran upstairs at a full clip. The house was unfurnished, save for a flimsy card table, some folding chairs and several rolled up sleeping bags.
"Where's the girl?" Olivia asked the captured men on the floor.
"What girl?" one of them asked.
"Dunno what you're talking about, officer," another said smugly.
When he heard more yelling upstairs, Elliot grabbed Olivia's arm and said, "C'mon. She may be up there."
They ran upstairs and saw that the second SWAT team had grabbed another man, who was on the floor and in the process of being handcuffed.
"Where's Lilly Beauchamp?" Elliot asked him.
"Who?" the man replied. "There ain't nobody by that name here."
It took everything Elliot had just to keep from kicking the bastard in the ribs. "You know who the hell I'm talking about! Lilly made a phone call from this very house!"
"The rest of the second floor is clear," a SWAT member told him. "No sign of the kid anywhere."
"Fuck this," Olivia muttered. She went to the center of the hallway, raised her face to the ceiling and, shouted, "LILLY! It's Olivia! If you're here, honey, let us know!"
There was nothing but silence for the next few seconds as everyone listened for the slightest sound.
The handcuffed man began to chortle. He knelt on the floor with his hands cuffed behind him. "I told ya, there ain't nobody here by that--"
"SHUT UP!" Elliot said right in his face. Turning to the SWAT team members, he said, "Get this piece of shit out of here!"
"Let's go," one of the SWAT members ordered, as they hauled the man to his feet and down the steps.
Cragen, who was making his way up the stairs, paused to let them pass before he continued. Once he reached Elliot and Olivia, he said, "The entire downstairs, the basement, and even the garage out back have been checked: no sign of Lilly. Is she up here?"
Elliot was about to answer in the negative until Olivia firmly said, "Yes. She's here, somewhere."
Olivia sounded so confident about that fact that it puzzled Elliot. "How do you know?" he asked.
"Trust me, Elliot," Olivia told him. Once again, she raised her head, and--at the top of her lungs--shouted: "LILLY!"
Just when Elliot was about to suggest another tactic, he heard a faint sound. It sounded muffled, as if it came from through a wall, or the ceiling. "You hear that?" he whispered to Cragen.
"Yes," Cragen replied, his eyes wide.
"LILLY?" Olivia shouted once more. "Lilly, honey, are you here!"
They all waited in silence. Elliot never even realized he was holding his breath until he let out a gasp.
And then they heard it.
"Olivia…?" a little girl's voice said weakly.
To Be Continued...