Chapter 2
Elliot Stabler paced outside the hospital room where their victim was being examined, trying to ignore the frustration and anger steadily building inside him. He'd already finished writing up his notes of this evening's interviews and reviewing the summaries Dean Jacobs had given him. There were so many leads that could be followed, and he desperately wanted to be doing something, anything other than just standing and waiting -- and thinking about all the terrible things that had happened to David Gallagher after the death of his parents.
But Dr. Cantrell had strongly advised that he stay close by in case David needed him, and he couldn't just abandon the terrified young man even though he'd been assured he'd be asleep for awhile longer. He felt bad enough that he'd already used the implicit trust the boy had shown in him to get him to come to the hospital in the first place and then again to get him to agree to be sedated during the exam.
The detective's pace quickened as he remembered the look of absolute terror on David's face when the doctor had walked into the room still pulling on his gloves. He rubbed absently at the sore spot on his left arm where the boy had clutched it in desperation as he'd turned eyes full of pleading and despair to Stabler, begging him silently not to let the doctor touch him. It was only his reassurance that he'd stay there the entire time and wouldn't allow anyone to hurt the boy during the exam that had made David agree to be put to sleep.
Stabler felt another stab of guilt about using Gallagher's trust that way, especially since he'd broken that trust by leaving the room once the boy had fallen asleep, but comforted himself with the knowledge that what he'd done was meant to help, not hurt him.
He sighed heavily and pulled out his cellphone, tempted to break the rule against using it in this part of the hospital, but, after looking at the device longingly for several moments, finally put it back into his pocket, knowing his partner was already outside making the necessary calls that would start the investigative wheels turning. The video had been sent back to headquarters for further review, Justin Graves was sweating in an interview room awaiting their return from the hospital, and a meeting had been set up with ADA Casey Novak first thing the following morning to review what charges could be leveled against the involved students based on what they knew so far. Once they got Novak's input and knew what kind of leverage they had available, interviews would be set up with the other students who appeared in the video. The process was chugging along nicely without his intervention and that left the detective feeling particularly useless.
His thoughts were churning, but they refused to stay on track, instead continuously returning to his own kids. Had he and Kathy done enough to guarantee they'd be taken care of if both of them were to die? They had named guardians in their wills, but was that enough? They had enough family between them that there should be someone to take care of the kids if the worst were to happen. But would they be kept together or raised in separate homes without their siblings to support them? And what about the kids they hung out with? Were he and Kathy being vigilant enough about them, or was there a Justin Graves lying in wait among them, just biding his or her time until the moment when everyone's guard was down?
"Detective Stabler?"
Elliot's mind was jerked back to reality but he took a moment to allow his implacable cop face to settle back into place before turning to greet the intruder who had pulled him out of his dark reverie.
"Yes?" he responded as he did a quick assessment of the woman standing before him - 5'6", mid-fifties, short gray hair, heavy-set, wearing a light blue suit that brought out the blue in her eyes but did little else to accentuate her appearance.
"I'm Dr. Minerva Wilcox. David's psychiatrist. Janet Cantrell gave me a brief update on what's been happening. How is he?"
The woman eyed him speculatively as she spoke, and Stabler tried not to tense up at the intensity of her gaze. "The doctor's with him now. He was pretty upset when we first got here, but he held it together while we were waiting and during the initial testing. But when the doctor came in to do the internal exam, he started to lose it. They had to sedate him to get him through it."
The woman nodded sympathetically. "I wish I could have gotten here sooner. Seeing a familiar face might have helped. You have to understand, Detective, David had a very difficult life even before all of this happened, so doctors, hospitals, even the police, stir up very bad, very painful memories for him. Please don't take it personally."
Stabler allowed a small smile to play across his lips. "There's been nothing for me to take personally. For some reason I'm the only one he seems to be comfortable with."
The woman frowned deeply. "Then what Janet said is true. He really did call you Kristian?"
"Yes, ma'am. And I'd really like to know what that's all about, because from your reaction and hers, I get the feeling it's not a compliment."
Dr. Wilcox frowned and paced in front of him for a moment. "I'm not sure how much I can tell you without violating doctor/patient confidentiality. I need a moment to recall exactly what was in the police reports and what he only told to me."
She continued pacing for a few moments, then finally shook her head and looked at him with obvious frustration. "Right now there's only one thing I can tell you that I'm certain is already in the police reports. Kristian is the man who called the police and told them where they could find David."
"Kristian was his foster father? The one who kidnapped him?"
"No. Most definitely not. Although they shared similar . . . predilections," she added with disdain. "But that's all I can tell you for now, Detective. I'll go through his file tomorrow to see if there's anything else I can add."
Stabler pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to her. "You can reach me on my cell anytime."
"Thank you," she responded, opening her purse and carefully placing the card inside. "How long have you been with the Special Victims Unit, Detective?"
"This is one of those days when I know it's been way too long," Stabler replied wearily as he rubbed his eyes.
She nodded. "Then I imagine you already have a reasonably good understanding of the psychology of abused children. Still, I suggest you look through the police reports yourself. It might give you some insight in dealing with David if you understand what he went through during the years he was missing."
"I'll do that," Stabler said making a mental note to have the files pulled as soon as he returned to the station.
Just then, the doctor exited the exam room and strode over to them. "Can I have a word with you, Detective Stabler?"
"What's wrong, Doc?"
"I'd like to hear this too," Wilcox interjected.
"And you are?"
"Dr. Minerva Wilcox, David's psychiatrist."
"Is his family here yet?"
"From what I understand, Doc, there is no family," Stabler responded. "Isn't that right, Dr. Wilcox?"
"As far as I know, yes. His birth parents had him late in life and he was an only child; neither of the parents had siblings and all of his grandparents were already dead before his parents died. He was placed in foster care for several years, but when his foster parents died in a car accident, David specifically asked not to be placed with another family. He was close enough to legal age that ACS agreed there was no need to appoint another legal guardian."
"More likely they didn't want to take the chance of screwing up again," Stabler said with venom.
Wilcox shrugged her shoulders. "Either way it means he's going to have to face this alone."
"No, it doesn't," the detective said with the first hint of compassion she had heard in his voice since she'd met him. "He's got us."
A small smile crossed her lips. "That's very true, Detective."
The doctor was frowning as they turned their attention back to him. "I'm sorry to hear that. He's given me permission to talk to you about his condition, otherwise that would complicate things considerably."
"Elliott!"
Stabler turned at the sound of his partner's voice and watched her stride quickly down the hallway. "Problem?"
"Our perp's getting antsy. He lawyered up and the lawyer's screaming. The Captain's getting some political pressure so he must be from money. We need to get back to the station soon or Munch and Fin are going to have to take the interview without us."
"Not happening," Stabler commented coldly. "Dr. Freeman was just about to give us an update on David's condition. Doctor, you already know my partner, Detective Olivia Benson." The doctor nodded acknowledgment and Benson returned the nod as Stabler turned to Wilcox, "This is Dr. Minerva Wilcox, David's psychiatrist."
Benson said, "Pleased to meet you," as she reached out to shake the other woman's hand. The psychiatrist returned the handshake and greeting then they all turned expectantly back to the doctor.
"He's resting comfortably for now. We have him on fluids since he's a little dehydrated and the initial blood tests indicated his blood sugar is a bit low. I suspect he hasn't been eating or drinking much the last few days, which isn't surprising in a case like this, since bowel movements would still be painful and probably will be for a few more days. The internal exam showed signs of injury - some from this assault but some that looks to be much older." The doctor looked up at them speculatively, "Are you aware of a history of abuse?"
"Yes," Wilcox said without elaborating.
Freeman frowned at her reticence but continued his report. "There's some bruising and tearing, but significantly less than I would have expected from the type of assault you described -- although it's a bit hard to tell how much worse the injuries were originally since someone was there before me to patch things up."
Stabler's head shot up from the notes he was writing and his eyes pierced the doctor's. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. It looks like someone with more than basic medical knowledge cleaned him up after the incident. Did a pretty good job of it too. As I said, sitting down and bowel movements will be a bit uncomfortable for him for awhile longer, but there doesn't appear to be any serious physical damage and no stitches were required."
"Any semen or other fluids?"
"No, but from what you said it's been almost a week since the assault. Judging from how dry his skin is, I assume he's been bathing a lot, which, again, is not unusual in a case like this. As far as other fluids, although there aren't any traces left, I'd almost guarantee some kind of lubricant was used. There would have been a lot more physical damage otherwise. It almost seems as though whoever did this was making an effort not to hurt him."
Stabler looked up sharply and met the doctor's steady gaze. "Are you saying you don't believe this was rape?"
"Not at all, Detective," Freeman replied solemnly. "I've seen enough rape victims to know lack of injury doesn't imply consensual sex. It just makes the DA's job a little tougher."
Stabler finished jotting the information in his notebook before asking, "How long can you keep him here, Doc?"
Freeman frowned again. "Honestly, there isn't any real reason for me to keep him here now. But since the IV is still in, I could probably justify keeping him till morning or early afternoon to monitor his fluid intake and try and get the sugar level up, especially since you say there's no one at home to keep an eye on him. We also need to get him started on the prophylactic drugs in case he was exposed to HIV or any other STDs. It'll be a few more days before those tests come back, but since we're already a week out, I'd rather not wait any longer."
"We'd appreciate that, Doctor," Benson said. "I've requested a plainclothes officer to sit at his door to discourage any visitors who might want to influence his memory of what happened before we can get this thing locked down."
"If you feel that's necessary," the doctor said with a frown of concern. "I'll alert the staff that we're discouraging calls and visitors and stress to them that no information is to be given out about his condition."
"Can we talk to him for a few minutes before we go?" Stabler asked.
"Honestly, if Dr. Wilcox weren't here, I'd discourage it considering the emotional state he was in earlier. But if she thinks it's okay and if he's awake, I'll give you five minutes. He was starting to stir as I was leaving, but if he's not fully awake, don't force it. And try not to push him too hard. Right now rest is the best thing for him."
Benson, Stabler and Wilcox moved to the door and entered the room.
David was freshly awake, his intensely blue eyes still bleary with sleep as he looked nervously toward the door to see who had entered. A frown puckered his forehead slightly when he saw the two detectives, but the frown deepened and mixed with dismay when he saw the psychiatrist trailing behind them.
"Hello, David," the woman said gently, sitting in the chair by the bed and taking his hand. "How are you feeling?"
"I've been better, Dr. Wilcox. You?"
"I'd be better if you'd called me when this first happened," she chided gently.
"Sorry," he muttered, a flush spreading across his pale cheeks. "I . . . I didn't know what to say. I knew something bad had happened but I couldn't remember what it was. And . . . and I didn't really think I wanted to remember. Then people started saying stuff to me about the party and what went on there, and I got scared. I was thinking about calling you this morning because I knew I was going to have to do something, but then I got called to Dean Jacobs' office and the shit hit the fan big time."
He dropped his eyes to the bed in misery. "The Dean said I'm getting expelled because of what happened. I don't know what to do. Where am I supposed to go if I can't go to school here? This place is all I have left." His voice had begun to tremble and the detectives could see he was clutching the doctor's hand like a lifeline.
"It's okay, David. I'll talk to the Dean. We can work something out," the woman said soothingly.
Stabler had thought it best to let the doctor handle the situation since Gallagher seemed more comfortable talking with her, but he couldn't restrain himself any longer. "You're not getting expelled, David," he said firmly. "Dean Jacobs understands now that this wasn't your fault. Right now he's only interested in punishing the men that did this to you."
Gallagher looked up at him hesitantly and the detective was struck by the thought that the young man in the bed looked different -- older, stronger, more together -- than the one he had left there earlier. "I'm sorry. I know you're the police detectives and you introduced yourselves earlier, but I don't remember your names."
"That's okay," Benson said flashing him a warm, understanding smile. "You've been through a lot today. I'm Detective Benson and this is my partner, Detective Stabler. We're with the Special Victims Unit."
Crystal blue eyes studied them intently as the young man nodded acknowledgment. "I'm David Gallagher, but I guess you knew that already."
Stabler watched uneasily as Gallagher exchanged small talk with his partner. The lost, frightened child they had met earlier was gone, and the quiet, composed young man who'd taken his place didn't seem as upset by the traumatic events of the past several hours.
"David, we need to get back downtown. We have Justin Graves waiting for us in an interrogation room. Is there anything else you can tell us about what happened the night of the party or in the days that followed that might help us?"
Sadness filled those big blue eyes and a trace of the lost little boy returned with it. "I don't think so. I tried really hard not to think about it. I didn't want to remember; I thought if I just ignored it, I wouldn't have to. I was hurting pretty bad the first couple of days, but I didn't want to go to the infirmary and have to try to explain why I was hurting where I was hurting, so I just stayed in my room and tried to do homework. I even skipped all my classes on Monday. But I finally forced myself to get up and go back to class on Tuesday.
"It was okay that morning, then out of the blue some guy I didn't recognize came up to me between classes and started saying stuff about how wild the party was and how wild I was and would I like to go have a private party with him. I said no thanks and walked away, but it really shook me up. Then I started noticing people pointing at me and whispering and there were a couple more guys who stopped me and made suggestive remarks. I was starting to get really freaked out, but I didn't know how to talk to anybody about it, what I could possibly say.
"Justin kept calling and leaving messages for me, but I really didn't know what to say to him after waking up in his bed like that and not remembering how I'd gotten there. From his messages it sounded like that night really meant a lot to him, and I didn't know how to tell him I don't feel that way about him. I never have. We've talked a couple times after class and he's hung out with me and my friends a couple of times. I was starting to think of him as a friend, but nothing more than that.
"Then I got the message to go to the Dean's office this morning, and . . . and found out the hard way just what I'd done."
"Not what you did, David," Stabler said firmly, "what Justin did to you. There's a big difference."
After assurances from Dr. Wilcox that she would stay with David until he fell asleep again, the two detectives left the hospital and headed back to their car.
"What do you think, Ell?" Benson asked, eying her partner curiously.
"I think this whole situation is seriously screwy," Stabler responded curtly as he rubbed eyes aching with tiredness. "Justin acts like he and David are the lovers of the century, but David says they're barely friends. It'll be interesting to see how Justin reacts to hearing he's not even a blip on David's radar in the romance department."
"I asked George Huang to observe our interview with Justin."
"Good. I'll be interested to hear what he thinks. I'm going to pull the files on David's kidnapping and recovery when we get back. He should probably take a look at them too. We need to know what happened to David while he was gone to get a handle on his state of mind through all this. I want to trust what he's telling us, but I keep getting the feeling something isn't right about his version of the story."
"I already asked for the files to be pulled and left on one of our desks."
Stabler smiled weakly, "Thanks. That'll save some time."
"How are you handling all this?"
"Me? I'm fine. Why?"
"Come on Elliot. I know you better than almost anyone. Are you really going to stand there and tell me you weren't sitting outside that room running through a catalog of all your kids' friends trying to figure out which one of them is the next Justin Graves."
Stabler shrugged and smiled ruefully. "Yeah, well that's an occupational hazard. I end up doing that with a lot of our cases."
"This one's different. I've seen it in your eyes from the beginning. Something about this one is hitting you harder than usual."
Stabler shrugged again and shot her an annoyed glance. "Do me a favor and don't psychoanalyze me, Liv. I'm already paying a small fortune to somebody else for that."
Benson rolled her eyes and Stabler relented slightly. "I really don't know what it is about this one, Liv. Maybe knowing what happened to him before, maybe just the fact that he's all alone in the world."
He ran a hand restlessly through his short dark hair. "Can you imagine having to face something like this alone, especially at that age. Having nobody around who gives enough of a damn to even notice something is wrong, let alone that you've been hurt like that. If that video hadn't surfaced, he'd still be trying to deal with it by himself. He never would have told that psychiatrist."
"She seems pretty perceptive to me. I think she would have picked up that something was wrong and pulled it out of him."
"Maybe, but how long would it have taken? She only meets with him once a month. How many weeks would have gone by with him sitting alone in his apartment trying to deal with the pain, humiliation, fear and guilt all by himself. Nobody should have to go through that. Nobody should be that alone."
Benson nodded grimly as they reached the car and got in. She gave her partner a brief sympathetic glance. She didn't need to be a psychiatrist to understand why this case was affecting him so deeply. Ever since Kathy had left him, Elliott's world had been crumbling around him. Now that the divorce was imminent, he was feeling lonely, vulnerable and lost -- seeing those same emotions emanating so intensely from David Gallagher was like looking into the depths of his own battered soul.