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For the first time since starting this case, Elliot lost his temper.
He had done well so far, considering the stress, and had been all calm business while he and Olivia narrowed down the vehicle search to their three most likely choices and prepared to visit the first. But they hadn't yet made it out of the station; Munch had entered the squad room with his normal composure missing, held up bloody hands, and announced that a clue in the Janey Christopher case was lying dead on the precinct steps.
"First I thought I'd call 911," he said, heading for the sink, "But then I said to myself, personal visits are so much more polite, right?"
It was the homeless man who had given them their break. Shot three times in the chest, but posed to look asleep, it had been hours before anyone took offense at his loitering and tried to move him. Munch had just arrived back from a witness interview when the discovery was made, and had made an effort to save the man before figuring out he was far too late.
The real blow for Elliot was what Munch found in the homeless man's pockets: One was filled with a patch of bloody hair; the other, with bloody scissors. Huang had been right; Lionel Sachet was moving fast.
Elliot, cursing loudly, punched over two filing stands before Olivia and Fin grabbed him long enough for him to calm down. Munch looked over but didn't stop washing his hands; apparently his disturbance over finding a body two minutes ago hadn't disrupted his unwillingness to sympathize with Elliot over this case.
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Elliot snapped after a second.
They released him; he roughly shrugged their hands off his arms and paced furiously across the room. "God DAMN it!"
"What the hell is going on out here?" Cragen asked, emerging from his office at the noise. The squad room floor was covered in scattered papers, and Elliot was in his shirtsleeves, disheveled and breathing hard. Olivia, Fin, and Munch said nothing, but Cragen wasn't a fool. He pursed his lips harshly.
"Elliot. In here. Now."
It looked like Elliot might challenge him; he gritted his teeth and his lips twitched as if a snarled rejoinder was itching to voice itself. But he collected himself and walked into Cragen's office, his tense posture communicating the barely restrained fury pumping through his limbs.
Cragen calmly shut the door. The instant the latched clicked, Elliot began, "Captain, I understand why you called me in here, but we've got a crisis-"
"Be quiet, Elliot," said Cragen. He indicated the chair across from his desk. "Sit down, we need to talk."
"Captain, we're on the clock here, in another day this girl will be dead-"
"I considered not letting you take this case," Cragen interrupted firmly. Elliot shut his mouth and straightened his spine. "You're under a lot of stress with the divorce, and the connection to Maureen-"
"I'm not investigating Maureen's shooting, I'm investigating the kidnapping of her roommate. Janey Christopher isn't related to me. You know there's no legal basis for pulling conflict of interest."
"Janey Christopher was kidnapped by a man trying to hurt you."
"Liv worked the entire Plummer case when he was out for her."
"Olivia doesn't have your anger management problems."
Elliot's nostrils flared, and his pupils shrank, making his eyes look almost entirely ice-blue. Cragen didn't back off. His face was kind and fatherly as always, but he was unintimidated, and would do what he had to as captain.
There was a long silence; they were two good men who understood each other, yet neither was willing to compromise.
Finally Elliot said, "You know me. You know I'm not going to do anything to hurt this investigation, Captain."
"Destroying our squad room could hurt other investigations."
"I'm sorry about that, it won't happen again. But we've got a lead, and we're running out of time. Let me do my job."
Cragen looked pained, like what he had to say next was difficult to get out. "You should know, Elliot, that at any time your fellow detectives are ready to step in for you…And we hope you'll let us know if your need to solve this case may be clouding your judgment."
Your fellow detectives. "Munch. Munch has been talking to you about me."
"John has expressed concern-"
"He should be expressing concern about the victim, by not getting in my way!"
"Just tell me…if you catch Sachet, what are you going to do with him?"
Elliot went white at the implication, though his expression didn't change. "What do you mean?" He knew exactly what Cragen meant.
"I mean are you going to read him his rights and arrest him, or are you going to beat him to death like you tried to eight years ago?"
"I'll do my job. I want him to die in jail."
"See that he makes it to jail, El. I mean it."
"I understand."
"One more incident and I'll pull you."
"…I understand."
"Okay. Get to work."
Elliot was careful not to slam the door on his way out of the office. Olivia was waiting for him, looking worried. He shook his head casually, like it had been a slap on the wrist. But as they walked out to investigate the precinct steps where the homeless man's body had lain, Elliot shot a look at Munch which he hoped communicated his disgust.
Munch, though by far the smaller, weaker and less passionate man, returned the glance without any sign of fear or repentance.
Lionel did not rape Janey. He tore the towel off her body while she screamed and kicked like an animal; he kissed her and ran his hands down her flanks, her thighs, and took most of her resistance without seeming to feel it. But she managed to rake her teeth across his cheek, slicing the skin, and when she did, he yelped and jumped as if burned, clapping his hand to his face.
Looking shocked, he scuttled back almost comically. Janey remembered his vanity; though she hadn't really planned it, she felt proud for hurting her attacker in possibly the only way that could really affect him.
But he had his revenge.
He was cool about it; having his face cut, oddly, restored his calm. Before saying anything he left the room for a few minutes and returned with a small bandage over the cut on his cheek.
"Why do you want me to be ugly like you, Maureen?" he asked.
"When my dad finds you, he's going to tear your whole face off," she hissed viciously, the temporary victory having filled her with an insane adrenaline-fuelled bravado.
Lionel broke her wrists.
Just grabbed her hands and pulled them towards him, straining her thin bones against the sharp edges of the handcuffs. Blood flowed sluggishly over the metal, down her naked sides, making two small pools beside her. In less than a minute, each wrist gave with a sickening pop. Then Lionel gathered up the bloodsoaked hair he had cut earlier and left.
Thankfully, the ordeal wasn't as painful as it could have been. Janey's arms had been suspended above her head for…days? How long had she been down here? However long it was, they had mostly gone numb. The actual breaking of the bones hadn't hurt as much as having her head slammed against the brick wall had.
Of course, in a few minutes the swelling started. Her handcuffs were already cruelly tight; as her wrists quickly puffed up to twice their normal size, a brutal throbbing worked its way from her arms down to her head and whole body. The pain made her ill, till she was retching uncontrollably. The sliced skin on her wrists was now embedded in the cuffs; it wouldn't heal until her arms were free, and she thought with terror of the danger of infection.
Lionel had said Mr. Stabler was looking for her. God, where was he? What was taking so long?
She believed – because in her desperation she needed to believe – that as soon as he found her she would be saved. The Mr. Stabler she dreamed of was stronger than Lionel. And he would know how to free her arms, to clean her wounds, to save her body before pain and exposure destroyed it.
Lionel had called her ugly; she wondered how she would look when Mr. Stabler found her. Her nose smashed, face puffed and bruised beyond recognition, hair cut to only about an inch long. Naked, shivering. Blood running down her now swollen arms.
She was still alive, though. She had gone into a terrible battle with every disadvantage, and fought to a draw.
Maybe there was a reason it was her instead of Maureen chained to this wall. She remembered her pastor once saying that God knows everyone's limits, and never sends a cross too heavy for its bearer. Maybe she was here because, unlike Maureen, she was strong enough to survive.
Or maybe Mr. Stabler couldn't bear the cross of having his daughter taken by Lionel, and so Janey was chosen instead.
She found she didn't mind the idea. It actually gave her a little more strength, will to stay awake, to resist succumbing to her pain and exhaustion. If she was here for a reason, she wanted to be worthy of the charge. She wanted to deal through faith and courage, because that meant someone else wouldn't have to.
Through her shivers and retches she prayed for the ability to hang on until Mr. Stabler could save her. She didn't need to pray that he would save her; in her soul she had no doubt about that.