Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a wonderful genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.

Stunned silence filled the squad room for a few minutes. Olivia finally spoke. She had to clear her throat before any words would come out. "When…when was she found?" "Last night," the captain replied. "I had a fax from the mayor on my desk when I walked in this morning, along with crime scene photos." Elliot shook his head, disturbed. He looked away from the board, unable to bear the image anymore. "For now, all SVU cases are being suspended until some headway is made on this," Cragen said. "I want you four to go to the crime scene. CSU has been there since six am, but this rain has pretty much washed away any evidence they may have found." They looked at each other for a minute, before Munch asked what they were all thinking. "If there is no evidence to look for, why are we going?" The captain fixed him with a pointed stare. "I meant fingerprints and what not," he said. "Trust me….once you see what he did leave behind, you'll have no questions as to evidence."

"Damn." Olivia and Elliot had been riding in silence for the past hour, each one's head filled with this new case, and he finally broke it. Olivia looked at him, and he stared at her. "I thought I'd seen it all, you know?" he asked. He started to continue, but just shook his head. "I thought murdered rape victims were the worst thing there was to see," she said. "It's times like this I wish I had become a traffic cop instead." He nodded in agreement and they lapsed into silence again, listening to the rain pounding on the roof.

"You know, when I was in college we learned about serial killers." Fin looked at his partner as they followed Elliot's car through the city. Munch looked at him with his signature raised eyebrows. "But in all my years in Homicide, I never worked with one. Not one time." Fin pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows back at him, acknowledging he was listening but not saying anything in reply. A minute later, he sighed. "Narcotics was murder all the time," he said quietly. "It amazed me how often drug dealers felt the need to kill someone." A moment passed as they listened to the rain. "No matter how many times I see it, death still upsets me." Munch nodded. "Same here," he agreed. Trying to lighten the mood, he said, "You think it's a conspiracy? Death is probably the only thing guaranteed in life, but it's the one thing that has people locking their doors and wearing straightjackets." Fin looked at him, half-disgusted and half-annoyed. "Shut up, man," he growled softly. He didn't have the desire to put any snap behind it this time.

The four detectives found the abandoned field after a half-hour of driving. It was swarming with CSU technicians, but not one other police officer was in sight. Getting out, they walked over. "Detectives Benson and Stabler," Elliot said, approaching one man. "Munch and Tutuola. We're from Manhattan Special Victims Unit." The man got up from his crouched position and took off his glove, offering his hand. "Will Bowers," he said. "Chief Crime Scene Investigator." They all nodded. "What have you found?" Olivia asked. Bowers led them over to an area where several technicians were busily digging with shovels. "We uncovered several severed limbs about three feet down," he said. The detectives noticed, for the first time, a blanket on the ground. It had a human hand, a toe, and a few unidentifiable pieces of flesh. Fin swallowed hard. "We're going deeper to see if there's more, but it's not very likely." Olivia had a horrified expression on her face. "If you want to grab a shovel, you're more than welcome," Bowers said grimly. They exchanged glances and remained unmoving. Elliot was the first to move, going to the tent set up nearby and taking a shovel. The others followed. No one noticed the rain drenching them as they worked alongside the technicians, and no one spoke.

A pair of powerful field glasses surveyed the open field from 50 feet away. A man in a forest green poncho stood next to an old station wagon, parked in an abandoned gravel lot off of the highway. Terrified moans could be heard from the open trunk. He smiled down at his prize as it thrashed wildly, trying to release itself from its bonds. The green-eyed man struggled with the ropes binding him, trying to breathe behind the gag in his mouth, and whimpered. The sounds got louder as the trunk was slammed shut. The man in the poncho paid no attention, coming around the front of the car and sitting on the hood. He lifted the glasses to his eyes again and scanned the area. His interest was sparked when he saw that four other people had joined the large uniformed group in digging. They wore no uniforms, but their presence radiated some kind of authority. He scanned each one. A tall man, wearing a black trench coat and dark glasses. He surveyed his face and saw dark eyes. Moving on, he trained on the black man beside him. Dark eyes as well. He moved to the dark-haired woman. She moved to brush a strand of hair from her face and he saw her mocha-colored eyes. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he focused on the last man. He was dark-haired as well, and from his position, the man could see what he thought were brown eyes. Hissing in frustration, he put the glasses down. Suddenly, the group put down the shovels and headed for the tent. He put the glasses up again. The male officer he had looked at last turned to say something to the woman, and through the glasses the crystal sapphire of his eyes stood out in stark contrast to the other three. The man's heart thumped and he kept his glasses trained on the beautiful orbs as the man moved away. Picking up his notepad, he scribbled down the license plate number of the car the man got into. He smiled in though as he put the glasses in the passenger seat of the station wagon and drove off in the opposite direction.