The Broadway Butcher, that's what the press are calling this guy. It's a catchy, flippant name for a brutal sadistic killer.
Warner's a good coroner because she doesn't think much about what happened to her subjects before they arrived in the morgue, she just gets on with her job, determining cause of death. At least that was true before she began working SVU cases, now she can't help but see her subjects as more than a puzzle to be solved and she can't help imagining how they must have suffered. Last night she woke up screaming, convinced that her ankles and wrists were being hacked through while she screamed for her masked attacker to stop.
"Are you finished with the autopsy?" Detective Stabler asks as soon as he's through the door, Benson's not far behind him.
"Good timing, I've just finished."
"Anything new?" Benson asks.
"Not a lot. Hands, feet and teeth have been removed and the face has been beaten beyond identification. If anything, this ones been in the water longer than the others, my guess is between seven and nine weeks."
"And the water's washed away all of our evidence," Benson sounds resigned. The Butcher's good.
"Sorry."
"A dead end. Again," Stabler looks about ready to start smashing up some of the medical equipment that the city won't pay to replace. He closes his eyes and breaths audibly, calming. "We should come back to it tomorrow. I could use drink on the way home, Liv?"
"Sure, want to join us, Doc?"
"Another time, my husband's going to cook me dinner tonight, a once in a decade event."
---
The next body that they pull out of the river has a tattoo, it's scarred like someone's tried to take it off with sandpaper, but there's enough of it to identify the body, and the relatives.
Warner's got this part down cold, i"I'm sorry for your loss Mr and Mrs (insert victims name here.)" /i
The girl was barely seventeen when she died, she had sweet parents with traces of mid-western accents who cry when they come into Warner's office to claim her remains.
That night Warner does go to the bar when Benson asks. Stabler doesn't join them, the girl was the same age as his eldest and he's gone home to spend time with his family.
Warner and Benson sit in cop bar, the sort of place where everyone looks like their trying to escape from one kind of horror or another. They drink beer and don't talk about the Butcher.
"Your husband not cooking for you tonight?"
"No," and he won't bother again soon, after the last time. Warner couldn't bear to have him touch her i'Come on Melinda, Mel it's okay.'/i That's the trouble with working SVU cases, sooner or later they start to take over your life, and even making love to someone you've loved since you were twenty one seems sick and wrong.
---
It's a month before the Butcher strikes again. This body has no identifying marks, so Warner doesn't have to warn grieving parents about the condition of their daughters body and still see the shock and revulsion on their faces when she pulls the sheet back.
Detective Benson is alone when she comes down to collect the autopsy report.
"Your partner not with you tonight?"
"He's on another case, Halloween is when all the freaks come out."
"The freaks are always out, Detective," Warner says.
Benson takes Warner to the same cop bar as before, but they skip the beer and get straight on with the shots of tequila. Benson tells Warner that you can usually tell the severity of the cases any cop's working on by what they're drinking, Warner isn't sure if she should be comforted or horrified to see that they're not the only ones hitting the iJose./i
---
Warner stumbles coming out of the bar, she crashes into the damp alley wall and laughs. She used to be much better at holding her alcohol, pre-med is basically a four year course in how to drink, she tells Benson as much.
"That's the last time I go to a doctor," Benson says. She sounds sober, she deals with these cases all day everyday so she probably does this a lot more often than Warner. Benson can't be all that sober because she's braced against the wall, her body pressed into Warner's.
When Benson leans in Warner lets her. Lets the Detective circle her wrists and press her back against the cold bricks, lets the Detective kiss her like she's trying to get another shot of tequila from Warner's mouth and throat.
Warner doesn't think about stopping, doesn't think about her husband or adultery, doesn't think about how wrong this is. They live in world where some psycho can carve up young girls and neither the police or the M.E.'s office can do a damn thing about it. Everything is wrong. At least she doesn't have to try at convince herself that kissing the lead detective on her most disturbing case in an alley outside a dingy cop bar is right. Of course it's wrong, and it's the first thing Warner's been able to take pleasure in since that first body arrived on her slab.
---
The news filters slowly down to the M.E.'s office, from uniform officers, to couriers, to medical assistants and eventually to Warner. A girl has escaped alive from the Butcher, the police have a description and a location.
When Warner strides into the squad room officers are hurrying in every direction, carrying stacks of paper and shouting to one another.
"Doctor?" Detective Stabler has appeared beside her, Benson at his side.
"I heard the rumours, I wanted to know if they were true?"
"An eighteen year old girl, raped and tortured walked into the ER this morning after escaping from a warehouse. The doctors say she'll live."
"Have you caught him yet?"
There's a lengthy pause and it's Benson who replies, "Our victim said there was another girl with him at the warehouse, they were gone by the time we got there."
"Shit."
"Liv," Stabler taps his watch impatiently, and the two detectives turn to head away.
"Ol...Detective. Good luck."
Benson smiles grimly, "Best get back to the morgue Doc, and hope we don't have another body for you."
---
The body in front of her has been stabbed, repeatedly. But the limbs and face are all intact, this one won't give her nightmares.
"Hey, Doc," Detective Benson has come by to collect the autopsy report.
"I just had the report sent over to the squad room. Congratulations on finally nailing the Butcher."
"Thanks, we're all going out for drinks tonight after work, if you want to join us?"
"Thanks, but my husband's taking me out for dinner tonight."