Disclaimer: Dick Wolf and NBC own the rights to these SVU characters. I merely play with them when I can!
Author's notes: Hey all! Didn't want you guys hanging for too long, so this is your weekend present (if you're in Australia) and Friday morning/night present (in America and in between). I hope you guys are enjoying this. I love your suggestions, but Fairytale is finished, I just upload chapters when I feel I've left you in the dark enough! Haha. Last chapter was short, this is a lot longer. I hope you enjoy. And please Read and Review, I love reading your feedback. And if I have time, I'll reply to all reviews for chapter 4!! So if you want to contact me, review this chapter, and I'll guarantee a response!! Awesome…have fun with this chapter; guess who did it?
At the end of the chapter, let's assume Elliot and Olivia had done everything Cragen had sent them to do OK? Cool…now you can read!
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Wednesday, 9.45am
Stevenson Primary, an exclusive private school, was situated in the heart of suburban Queens. It was surrounded by dense foliage and on the outskirts, houses very similar to both the Wilcox's and Hughes'. The main building stood impressively tall against the backdrop of the almost black sky; thunder rolling in the distance, pursuing them from Manhattan. Following the directions of a flustered teacher scurrying towards a classroom, they made their way to Damien West's office. It was here that they had found a roadblock in the form of Vanessa Walker, the administration receptionist.
"Mr West is in a meeting, can I take a message?"
That was the third time this irritating excuse for a human being had asked Elliot and Olivia that exact same question. Walker was blonde and pretty in an obvious way; her face split in half by a huge smile that somehow served to only irritate Olivia further; and the way that Elliot's fist was clenching at his side repeatedly told her he was thinking exactly the same thing.
"No," Olivia said again, her teeth grinding painfully, "we need to talk to him now"
"He's in a meeting, can I take a message?"
Oh, god, Olivia thought.
"Lady, have you ever heard of 'obstruction of justice'?" Elliot asked through his gritted teeth.
She looked at Elliot blankly, unblinking. She was either completely unintimidated, or completely stupid; and at this point in time, Olivia was leaning towards the latter.
Her smile remained unwavering, and she motioned with her hands in the direction of some white plastic chairs along the wall opposite the desk, "take a seat detectives, he'll be out shortly."
Olivia finally had enough, "Look, Miss Walker," her voice was eerily steady; "there is a man out there, slaughtering little children from this school to get his rocks off. You are wasting our time and quite frankly," she leant forward, baring her teeth in anger, "giving me the shits. So, you have two options. Get Mr West out here now, or, keep up this act and I will personally haul your bony arse into a holding cell back at the precinct. Do you understand?"
The venom dripping from her words was frightening, and Elliot could feel the heat emanating from her. He unconsciously took a mini-step to the right. Walker had to be given credit; the only indication Olivia had gotten through to her was the slight redness that tinted the tips of her ears. They remained in an uncomfortable silence, until Walker's french-manicured nail reached out to press the button on the intercom to her left.
Her gaze never left Olivia's when a male's voice crackled through the speaker, "yes?"
"Mr West, there are people here to see you," Walker said, her voice devoid of any expression.
There was a sigh, then, "I'm in a meeting, did you tell them that?"
Olivia couldn't help the annoyed snort that came from her nose.
Walker's smile faltered somewhat, "they're detectives, sir," she bit out the word detective with a surprising level of malice, "and they need to see you now."
There was a loud sigh, "let them into my office. I'll join them shortly."
Walker nodded as though he was standing opposite her, turning to Elliot and Olivia, "He'll meet you in his office. Second door on the right."
She indicated a corridor to their left that had doors sporadically lined along them; offices of the other staff members. Without a backward glance, Olivia stalked out of the lobby and began down the corridor, Elliot a cautious step behind.
West's office was set out in an interesting paradoxical fashion; while the walls and artwork were brightly coloured and indicative of a teacher of young children; the books that practically spilled out of their shelving were of an academic level consistent with a university lecturer. The chairs were an intense orange and overstuffed, and the desk they were in front of was full of children's artworks and writings which were stacked in a way that indicated they were as yet, untouched.
While Olivia took a seat on one of the chairs, practically sinking to the floor, Elliot decided to take a closer look at the books that, compared to the size of the office, took up most of the space within. Hands on his hips, he bent to take in some of the titles in front of him. Nothing indicated that he was psychotic. He noticed a novel by Jane Austen. Well, maybe he was.
"Nothing seems strange about him," Elliot commented as he rifled through a copy of "The Russian Revolution".
"We haven't spoken to him yet. His choice in colour scheme would suggest otherwise," Olivia replied wryly, rising awkwardly from her seat.
When she managed to gain footing, she rounded West's desk to get a closer look at the framed certificates and awards behind it.
One in particular gained her attention, "he has a medical certificate," Olivia said, Elliot's head snapped up quickly.
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "then why's he teaching English at a Primary School?"
"I couldn't take the pressure of the ER anymore," a voice from the door startled them from their activities, as West entered his office almost silently.
Elliot placed the book back in its place, watching as Olivia made a face at West's jibe. West's back was turned so he missed it, but Elliot smirked, before turning his attention back to the books scattered on the floor.
"We just wanted to ask you some routine questions," Olivia began, sinking back into the chair opposite West, "we understand you're busy, so we'll be quick." Olivia pulled out her pad and pen, while Elliot continued to move silently behind her.
Elliot stopped as his eyes fell upon a particularly tattered copy of "The Grimm's Fairytale" lying between the biographies of various political leaders. He pulled it out, running his fingers over the tattered cover before flipping through the yellowing pages.
"How long have you been a teacher here?" Olivia asked, focusing both on West's reactions to her questions and on Elliot's movements behind her.
West was sitting reclined in his chair behind his desk, and while he seemed to be relaxed in his posture, his eyes were following Elliot's ministrations behind her. He was nervy about something. Olivia recognised that look; it was the look a perp who thought they were smarter than Elliot and her, had on their face in interrogation when they were sweating them in the beginning. They just needed some sort of leverage and his demeanour would fall like a house of cards in a breeze.
West hadn't heard her question, "Mr West?" Olivia repeated, a little louder.
He reluctantly pulled his gaze from behind her head, and refocused his attention on Olivia, "pardon?"
"How long have you been working here?" Olivia asked again, sitting straighter.
West contemplated her question, "at this school? Four years. I was at a school up in Albany for twenty-five, but I moved when my wife got a job in Manhattan…look…Detective are you looking for something in particular?" He was distracted mid-answer by Elliot who had knocked over a particularly unstable mountain of books.
Elliot began to re-stack the books haphazardly into a pile, before sitting down in the twin chair next to Olivia, "sorry," he offered quietly.
West settled again, "anything else?"
"Fiona, Matthew and Madeline took a class with you on Tuesday afternoons. Did anything seem to troubling them at all the past few weeks?"
West sat back in his chair again, shaking his head, "not that I can say specifically. They were only seven; there isn't much that would have worried them."
Elliot nodded, "where were you two nights ago, and last night?"
West pulled his planner towards him, "two nights ago I was at a teacher's conference in Boston, and last night I was here until 4pm, went home and then out to dinner with my wife. We came home and then went to bed. And now I'm here," he finished, chuckling like he'd just told the funniest joke in the world.
The look Elliot and Olivia exchanged suggested otherwise and West cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Terribly unexciting, right?"
Olivia laughed, more at Elliot's expression then at West's attempt at humour. West picked up on it and shifted uncomfortably, "now is that all?" he looked at his watch, "I have a class in ten minutes"
"We understand," Elliot said, extricating himself from his seat more successfully than Olivia had previously. He pulled his card out of his pocket, "call us in case you think of, or remember anything that might help in our investigation"
West nodded, placing the card in his jacket's pocket, patting it, "will do Detective"
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Wilson's Electronics was a stuffy store that sat next door to a nail boutique and hairdresser. The acrid smell of acrylic followed Munch and Fin into the store with the freezing wind that was blowing a gale outside. Despite the store being full of the newest electronic equipment, the room smelt stale. The man sitting behind the desk at the back of the store explained at least part of the smell; he was standing near a refrigerator with a Chinese takeout container, sniffing it warily. His hair was greasy, his face shiny and the way he looked away when Munch and Fin approached the counter had them wondering how he held a job where he had to actually interact with people. If nerd were to have an image accompany the definition in the dictionary, this guy's face would be right there alongside it.
"Can I help you?" Martin, as his name-badge displayed, stuttered in introduction, intimidated by their presence.
Munch nodded, taking out his badge from where it was sitting on his belt, "I'm Detective Munch," he inclined his head towards Fin, "and this is my partner Detective Tutuola. We're investigating a series of homicides that occurred across the street at Central Park."
Martin's eyes widened, "you mean those little kids?"
Fin nodded, "the first crime scene was just across the road there, in amongst those trees. We noticed you guys have a camera set up there at the entrance. Is it recording?"
Martin nodded, stepping from behind the counter, "we have it there recording so customers can come in and see in real life the quality of the camera. Most electronics' stores have a set-up like this," he paused, pulling the disc from the machine on which the camera was sitting. "Rather than having three or four hours recording time on a video-tape, it burns straight onto a disc, and goes for a whole working day sometimes. Cheaper and easier to store."
Munch took the disc from the man, "is this the footage from last night?"
Martin chewed his lip, "it might go back as far as yesterday morning, but I should have the night you're after in the back room."
Fin nodded, "you think we could have it?"
Martin nodded, heading through the door behind his desk. As it closed behind him, they turned to face the park where the protective tarp was being removed by a group of CSU techs that had braved the pouring rain.
Martin re-entered the room, "you have to remember Detectives that it doesn't have night-vision, so it relies heavily on the lights on a street and pavement level," he paused, shrugging, "of which there isn't much around here"
Fin took the disc-cases from him, "we'll get this to TARU and see what we can get"
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Morales smiled at Munch and Fin over his computer as they entered the computer lab, "detectives, what can I do for you?"
Munch handed Morales the discs the store clerk had given them, "we got this from an electronics store near Central Park. It was recording in the general direction of our first crime scene, but at night. So the clerk doesn't hold much hope that there's much visible for us"
Morales shook his head, "well, they don't have state-of-the-art computer equipment we do. I'll see what I can get for you," he entered the first disc into the drive and they waited patiently behind him as the video began on-screen.
Morales let out a relieved breath, "what?" Fin asked.
Morales pointed to the corner of the screen, "it's time-coded. Makes it much easier," he typed some instructions into the computer, and the quality of the tape improved ten-fold, "and thanks to the image-wear gadget on loan from NASA, I can clear it up like that," he turned to Munch, "what time are we looking at?"
"That's amazing," Fin said instead, "you can see the individual blades of grass,"
Fin trailed off and Munch, initially in awe at the quality of the image, mentally shook his head and pulled out his notepad, "ME estimates time of death as anywhere between 6pm and 11pm.
"Well, we'll play it on fast-forward, and if we notice anything, we'll pause it," Morales said, pressing some keys on the board in-front of him.
They stood in silence as images of pedestrians and traffic floated in and out of frame. At one point, a group of inebriated teenagers had stopped in-front of the camera to act lewdly; while they found it hilarious, Munch shook his head in disbelief.
"If these are our future World leaders; then we're all doomed," Munch commented, as one of the teenagers began thrusting suggestively at the camera.
Eventually, they had gotten bored, and as the time ticked past nine o'clock, the traffic and pedestrians lessened in numbers. That is until a white unmarked van stopped in the top right-hand side of the screen.
"Stop," Munch said suddenly.
Morales stopped fast-forwarding, and let the disc play at normal speed. The van remained unmoving for about five minutes, until the driver's side door opened, and a female wearing a quilted jacket exited, pulling up her hood. From the other side, a male emerged, opening the back doors. While the female faced the camera a number of times, the male remained masked by the darkness and his hood. The Detectives and Morales watched quietly as they removed the bodies of Matthew and Fiona Wilcox one at a time, disappearing into the darkness of the trees, and then jumping back into the van and speeding off.
"There's two of 'em," Fin stated, exchanging a look with Munch.
Morales turned to them, "I'll just rewind and see if I can get a clear photo of her face. The guy stays too well hidden"
He struck some of the keys in front of him, rewinding and closing in the female's face.
He turned to Fin, "that's as clear as it's going to get. I'll run it through the National Facial Recognition Software, see if I can get a hit"
Munch reached for the printout, "that'd be great. Thanks"
Morales smiled, ejecting the first and replacing it with the second, "and the same timeframe for the second?"
Fin nodded. This time, the crime had been committed on the other side of the park. But the only way to get there was using this particular stretch of road.
"Bingo," Morales breathed.
At approximately the same time; the same female was driving the same unmarked white van to their second crime scene.
"We need to figure out who she is"
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"I don't like something about that guy," Elliot said quietly.
"I know," Olivia replied, throwing a filthy look at the way of the receptionist as she and Elliot exited the administration office.
"And it's not just because he's having an affair?"
That comment caught Olivia off-guard, Elliot catching her under her armpit as she missed a step. Olivia straightened, clearly embarrassed.
"You alright?" Elliot asked, slightly amused.
"Don't look so concerned," Olivia said sarcastically, avoiding the stares of those that were around.
When they were in the safety of their sedan, Olivia asked, "How do you know he's having an affair?"
Elliot turned to her smirking, "I didn't knock those books accidentally," he paused as he turned into a side-street, "I found something…incriminating"
Olivia's eyebrow rose, "what?"
Elliot shrugged a shoulder, "a pair of underwear"
If it was possible, her eyebrow rose further, "children's underwear?"
Elliot shook his head, swearing as a homeless man almost stepped in front of the car, the rain making him nearly invisible, "women's. He's sleeping with someone on the staff; and my money's on Miss Personality at the front desk."
Olivia looked sceptical, "it could be his wife's?"
Elliot shook his head more vigorously, "didn't you see his face while I was browsing. He was terrified"
Olivia gave a hollow laugh, "I would be too if you were searching my office"
Elliot glanced sideways at her, "he was hiding something, and I found it. And believe me," he wiggled an eyebrow, "wives do not wear underwear like that"
"I wear underwear like that," Olivia said smiling.
Elliot chuckled, "well, you're not a wife"
"Yet"
Elliot swore again as he oversteered, skidding slightly.
"Try not to kill us El," Olivia said, her smiling growing.
They remained in silence, until Olivia broke it, "I'd still wear that kind of underwear if we got married"
Elliot laughed, "I'd need to get that in writing first," Olivia laughed loudly.
She drew her lip in, pretending to think about it, "A contract on my underwear?" Elliot snorted at her choice of words, "you'd have to search me every night to make sure I was complying"
"You say that like it's a chore," Elliot replied, turning into her apartment building's street.
"It could be," Olivia said, undoing her seatbelt as Elliot cut the engine.
Elliot followed closely behind her as they scaled the steps, "I would gladly strip search you every day of your life"
Olivia pulled out her keys, smiling at him seductively, "how about we start now?"