Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.
Author's Note: Thanks so much all who reviewed! I definitely wasn't expecting this to be so well liked! I will try my best to make the paragraphs easier to read, sorry about that.
The morning was still and quiet in the early dawn hours. Moans could be heard from inside the empty apartment. Olivia thrashed around in her bed, twisting the covers around herself as a nightmare assaulted her. The phone noisily intruded her thoughts and she awoke with a yell. Bolting upright, she sat still, breathing hard. She wiped the sweat from her eyes and reached a shaking hard toward the nightstand. She swallowed hard. "Benson," she gasped, relaxing against the headboard.
"It's me," Elliot said. "Cragen got a call from the M.E. He wants us down." "Got it," she muttered, running a hand through her hair. He paused, furrowing his brow as he listened to her breathing. "Are you ok?" he asked. She threw the blankets aside and lowered her feet to the floor, stretching. "Yeah, I'm fine," she answered. Her voice was stronger. "See you in a few." She replaced the receiver and stood up, walking to the bathroom. Four days had passed since the initial discovery of the body. The detectives hadn't received a single lead on this guy "The Butcher". Nobody even remembered him except for the few older veterans of the force. The image of the mutilated woman had stuck in Olivia's mind though, resulting in disturbed sleep every time she tried to relax. Shaking her head, she set the shower temperature hotter than normal and stepped in, effectively erasing the thoughts from her memory.
The other three arrived at the Medical Examiner's office around the same time she did. The red-haired woman waved the detectives in when she noticed them. "Morning, guys," she said. She had worked on several SVU cases and was friendly with all of them.
"Ah…I notice you didn't say 'good'," Munch said. She grimaced at him. "This is hardly my idea of a good morning," she said grimly, pulling out a slab. The torso of the victim was lying on it, and other various body parts were next to it. "CSU dropped these off yesterday," she said. "There were more, but the rain made them too soggy to piece them together enough to form a solid structure." Fin pulled a horrified face at her description.
So can you tell us who she is?" Elliot asked, looking at the slab. She drew a gloved finger across the pasty white stomach of the corpse. "There are incisions right above the breastbone," she said. "The head and neck were removed still intact together." Elliot looked confused. "How come there aren't any bones sticking out?" he asked. "Wouldn't the neck have to be broken in order to remove the head from the body?" The M.E.'s lips curled in disgust as she answered him.
"See these holes here?" she asked, pointing to the underside of the breastbone. They leaned forward to see what she was talking about. Sure enough two small holes, equal distance apart, were drilled into the flesh. "He made these crevices big enough to pop the bones clean out of the sockets before he removed them, probably with a hacksaw." She shook her head in disturbance. "The dried blood indicates she was still alive when he was doing this. Otherwise, the crevices would be full of post-mortem puss."
Olivia's face paled. "You're saying she was alive when he was cutting into her?" The woman nodded gravely. "Unfortunately, that's exactly what I'm saying." She looked at the group standing next to her in sympathy. "Would you like me to move on or do you need a break?" "There's more?" Elliot asked in shock.
She pursed her lips, moving to the body parts. "I lifted DNA samples from the hand and foot. I was able to identify the others after collected individual skin cells from each and transferring them to the Department of Forensic Science at the University of Virginia."
"What did you find?" Munch asked, removing his glasses and wiping them with his shirt. "I sent 8 skin cells along with the DNA and not one thing matched," she said. "Each one had a different genetic code." There was stunned silence as the detectives realized what she was implying.
She shook her head and looked at them with a resigned sigh. "I hate to make your lives more complicated….but you're looking at 11 different victims here."
Classical music filtered through the darkened residence. The scraping of chains from down below drowned out the shrieks of the green-eyed prisoner. His captor ignored them as he sat at his computer, eyes closed in serenity as he hummed along to the chords of Bach. He logged into the Department of Motor Vehicles website and typed in the license plate number he had written down on his notepad. A "restricted access" warning flashed, but he hacked his way through it using the identification badge he had swiped the day before.
After a moment, the number appeared and confirmed that it belonged to a government vehicle issued to the New York Police Department. A few more keystrokes revealed it was currently being used by the Special Victims Unit located at the 16th precinct in Manhattan. Logging into the 16th precinct webpage, he typed the words "Special Victims Unit", and was brought to a web page listing positions and employees. Head shots of each member were featured, and he leisurely strolled down until he located the one he was looking for. He clicked on it. "Elliot Stabler," he read. "1st grade detective, member 11 years."
Swiveling around in his chair, he reached for the cell phone lying on the desk next to him. He dialed a number and waited as it connected. "Department of Motor Vehicles," chirped a woman's voice. "Hello," the man said. "I was recently in a car accident and the insurance company needs the address of the guy I hit so they can mail him a statement. It wasn't listed on his insurance card, and I have no way to contact him." "Ok, sir," she said. Clacking of computer keys echoed over the phone.
"What is the other man's name?" "Elliot Stabler," he replied. "S-T-A-B-L-E-R." "Thank you," she said. She put him on hold, and he smiled in delight. A minute later, she returned. "Yes, sir," she said. "Elliot Stabler. Black Ford Explorer, New York plates?" "Yes, ma'am," he answered, grinning wildly. "I'm sorry….my handwriting is kind of sloppy. Could you read the plate number for me?" "Sure," she said. "JYB-13TS. Address is 646 Fresno Avenue, Apartment 35B in Queens, New York." "Thank you," he replied, scribbling down the information. "What company are you insured by, sir?" she asked. "Allstate," he answered quickly, and hung up before she could say anything. His smile widened with glee as he taped the paper to his computer monitor. Then he headed downstairs to his prisoner.