Special Victims Unit Headquarters/ December 3/ 6:52 PM
Elliot and Olivia returned to the station to find their colleagues gathered around the board where photos, sketches, and diagrams had been posted. "Anything else from that paintbrush?" Elliot slid his coat down over his shoulders and draped it over a chair.

"Nothing more from the lab yet," replied Cragen. "But I think it's time we start looking for a painter. He could be the guy that the neighbors saw running down the street. We're looking again at Melanie's patient lists."

"I didn't find anybody with the right kind of rap sheet," said Olivia. "But I wasn't looking for a painter so it's worth another shot."

Munch and Fin had headed off to dig into this considerable task before Elliot and Olivia had arrived, though not without shooting each other glances of chagrin first.

Olivia looked at the photo of Nina that was taped to the board. It was not a school photo but a candid shot – a good one of her in the sunshine, her cheeks flushed and stretched wide into a beautiful, innocent smile. "I was talking to her mother back at the hospital, and that perp has got to be sending a message by hurting that little girl. Melanie asked if the molestation might have been random, but there's just no way."

"Yeah, no way," Elliot echoed. "That attack was not random."

Huang crossed his arms and studied the photo too. "He's angry about something, and it's probably related to the Pressmans specifically. It's important that he targeted Nina rather than her parents, even though it's unlikely that a five-year-old like her is the real reason for his rage."

"So you think he's definitely angry at Eric or Melanie?" asked Cragen, thoughtfully.

"They're the most likely possibilities, given that he assaulted their daughter, in their apartment, and left her there for them to find."

"So why not attack them?" asked Elliot. "Why not rape Melanie or rip Eric into shreds, instead of that child? We all saw what he did to Nina – that guy was strong and bold enough to dominate an adult."

"That's what I mean about Nina being important to him," replied Huang. "There must be something ... maybe he was molested by someone when he was a child, and he's connecting that experience to one of the Pressmans for some reason. Or maybe he's angry about a child of his own."

Olivia looked up sharply. "If it's a child of his own – it's got to be Melanie. How else would either of them have any contact with his child?"

Elliot nodded. "What do you bet that Munch and Fin find a painter somewhere in those hospital records?"

Munch had heard this from his desk, where he was swimming in folders and paper. "No such luck so far," he called. "No painter daddies with kids in the PICU."

Olivia and Elliot headed to their desks to help with the mountains of records, but just as they sat down Elliot's phone rang. Olivia opened a folder but couldn't help watching him surreptitiously from across the two desks.

"Hey, Maureen … well, of course she's still upset. No … we saw her a little while ago and she's doing okay. You tell Tessa that." He sighed, hugely. "No, I'm not mad at you … last night was pretty weird, you're telling me. We are definitely going to sit down real soon, though … why? So you can tell me what you were doing out on the street that time of night! What? … No, I don't think you have explained that yet, but …" He sighed again. "Okay, I'll talk to you later. Tell your mom I'm going to be late, okay? Bye."

He rolled his eyes. Olivia couldn't help smirking a little – poor Elliot. He tried to be tough, but those kids, especially Maureen, had him smoked.

He flipped through admission forms. "Tessa asked her to call to check and see how Nina's doing."

"I told you – she really does care about those girls."

"Yeah, Tessa has always seemed like a real nice kid," he conceded.

"You're not still mad at Maureen for lying, are you?" asked Olivia. "You know she was just being loyal to her friend and trying to protect her. She was out in the neighborhood because she was worried about Tessa."

He leaned back and exhaled. "I'm glad she's being a good friend," he said. "But that's not the whole story – you smelled the alcohol on her breath before you put her in that squad car."

"She wasn't drunk, Elliot," Olivia returned, examining a list of surgical patients. "And come on, what do you think college kids do when they want to relax?"

He shuddered.

She scoffed. "You have no idea – you've got it so good."

"What, you were so much worse when you were in college?"

"I see no reason to answer that question."

Exasperated, Elliot turned all of his focus back to the paperwork. Olivia rose and went to check out the coffee situation – she still hadn't had a chance to eat. Why wasn't anybody else hungry? Usually she could at least count on Elliot to start demanding food around the time she felt ready to sacrifice one of her co-workers for meat, but his appetite seemed to be curiously absent tonight. She found some sorry-looking doughnuts from that morning, promptly lowered her standards, and dug in.

At his desk, Elliot forced himself to push Maureen and her nosedive into sin to the back of his mind so he could consider some of the people whose stories were summarized on the papers in front of him. He wondered if any of the people from the lounge earlier that day were there to visit children he was reading about now. Melanie had treated all kinds of kids, with all kinds of families. But no painters, or anything else that seemed relevant to him.

Olivia was trying to liven up a tired cup of coffee with some sugar when her phone rang. "Benson." She listened, then flipped it shut and grabbed her coat. "Elliot, that was Melanie – Nina's awake."

TBC