Chapter 21

The squad room was completely still, the only movement, the occasional rustle of papers or the brief moment when someone would dare venture away from their desk. The silence that consumed them now was deafening. Whoever coined the phrase walking on eggshells had clearly never stood inside the 1-6 on a day like today because walking on eggshells required coexisting within the same space. Treading lightly involved some form of communication. Despite the physical proximity between them, the emotional barrier separating them now stretched into infinity. In the last six hours, they had somehow managed to redefine every boundary ever drawn, and all without speaking a word.

This was pure hell.

Fin shifted uneasily in his seat, letting his eyes briefly wander over to his partner. Munch's eyes were glued to the report in front of him. One hand reached forward, turning the page as if on autopilot. Fin let his eyes wander back to the file clenched tightly in his hands. For the fifth time in as many minutes, he re-read the page in front of him. It wasn't until he reached the end that he realized that none of the words had registered.

He sighed, the sharp expulsion of breath shattering the silence. Fin blinked hard, willing away the pure exhaustion that came from sitting at his desk throughout the night. He didn't trust himself to speak, to move. Hell, he was afraid to breathe because he was certain that any of the above was sure to cause Olivia more pain. With one single word, she had managed to shatter every semblance of resentment. With one single word, she had managed to steal every last breath from his body.

He had resigned himself to seeing the hurt in her eyes. He had expected to see anger. What he hadn't anticipated was the guilt. Complete, utter, heart-wrenching guilt.

Without a word, she had instantly taken on the responsibility for every malicious word that had escaped. Without a word, she had silently relinquished them of all accountability and placed it solely on her own shoulders. They had fucked up, and she accepted the burden for every one of their mistakes.

The file dropped from his hands as he drew himself to his feet. Fin turned around, allowing every step to carry him one step closer to the unknown. He knocked softly on the door in front of him. Without waiting for a response, he nudged it open and stepped inside.

Cragen looked up slowly. "Fin?" His voice was weary, drawn. It was the voice of someone who had resigned himself to the inevitable.

Fin squeezed his eyes shut. "Captain, about what I said last night…" He stopped, finally daring to look up into Cragen's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Cragen stood up, crossing the room toward him until they came face to face. "You had no right to disrespect my command. You had no right to challenge my authority."

Fin dropped his eyes to the floor. "I know."

"You had no right to say anything you did last night," Cragen continued. His voice softened. "But it needed to be said."

Fin's eyes snapped back up. "Captain," he protested lightly.

"I'm not finished." Cragen raised his hand to silence the protest. "You were right, Fin. And I'm sorry that you had to be the one to point it out to us."

Fin allowed the words to sink in slowly. He hesitated. "Captain, are you…" Fin trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the question.

"Yeah, I'm taking care of it," Cragen answered softly. "We've all been selfish, and it's about time we start working together again. Olivia deserves that much from us." He cleared his throat. "Now are we any closer to finding Jamison?"

Fin took the shift in conversation in stride. He shook his head in response. "We've got uniforms sitting on his home and work. Nothin' yet."

Cragen nodded thoughtfully. "Then haul Ed Tucker in here for a little chat. He has to know something."

Fin paused. He avoided Cragen's gaze. "Trust me. Tucker doesn't know anything," he muttered quietly.

Cragen turned toward him slowly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I went to Tucker's house last night. He doesn't know where his brother is," Fin admitted hesitantly.

Cragen raised his eyebrow. "And you believe him why?"

"I believe him because I had a gun to his head when I asked," Fin admitted sheepishly. He averted his eyes away from those of his captain.

"You did what?" Cragen's voice rose quickly. Then he stalled. "Never mind. I didn't just hear that." He sighed. "Go. Talk to your partner. Make sure you're both on the same page." Cragen glanced down at his watch, realizing for the first time how early it still was. "Is Elliot still sleeping in the crib?"

Fin nodded. "I think he's probably the only one who slept last night."

"Not anymore," Cragen added. "It's about time he sees this scrapbook. Let's see if he can shed any light on this whole thing."

"Got it." Fin started to turn back toward the door. He froze, glancing back over his shoulder. "Hey, Captain?"

Cragen looked back up toward him. "What's up, Fin?"

Fin shifted his weight slightly. "I just wanted to say thanks."

For the first time, Cragen smiled. There was still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Don't thank me yet."

The door shut quietly behind him. Huang paused, surveying the figure who had just stepped through the door to his office. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, believe me, this wasn't exactly on my list of places to go for the day," Munch returned quickly. His eyes darted across the room with a newfound interest. He finally settled into a seat across from Huang.

"Then what brings you here?"

"Isn't that your job?" Munch sighed. "You know to determine what makes me do the things I do."

"Usually," George agreed. He set down the pen in his hand. "But why don't you tell me why you think you're here."

"Because no one in my damn squad can mind their own business. And since every other shrink I've talked to seems so interested in talking about my sex life, I figured why the hell not."

"Do you think your job is affecting your sex life?"

"No," Munch shot back quickly. "I don't, and I'm tired of people pretending that it does. I was just as miserable alone before I took this job as I was after I took it."

"Okay, fair enough." George took a deep breath. "And what about this case?"

Munch hesitated. "What about this case?"

Huang held his gaze as he spoke. "You've been alone for years, John. A case like this affects you. It makes you want to reach out to something familiar. Maybe someone familiar?"

Munch shifted uneasily in his seat. "Is that a question, Doc?"

"Tell me about your ex-wife."

"Wives," Munch corrected him. "You're going to have to be more specific."

Huang searched his face carefully. "That's right. There are four of them, correct?"

"Yeah, why bother stopping after the first heartache?"

George nodded. "Because we want to have hope that true love is really out there."

Munch snorted. "Yeah, after number two, you think the third time is the charm. After number four, you realize you should have stopped while you were ahead."

"And yet you've never stopped loving her."

Munch froze. "Stopped loving who?"

George allowed a small smile to cross his face. "Your first wife. What was her name?"

John hesitated before he finally answered. "Gwen." He sighed. "Her name was Gwen."

"Why do you think you went back to her now?" Huang slid the question in, carefully gauging his reaction. He was rewarded with a look of surprise on Munch's face.

"It's not the first time," Munch admitted defensively.

George nodded. "Okay. But why now? What is it about this case that made you go back again?"

"I didn't want to be alone." The words slipped from his lips as barely more than a whisper.

"Why? Tell me, John. Why are afraid of being alone now?" As soon as the question slipped from his lips, George suddenly realized the answer. He drew in a breath sharply.

John raised his eyes slowly. They were filled with pain and uncertainty. "Because I don't want to turn out like my father."

"I'm not my father."

Cragen was taken aback by the harshness of the response. He stood up, stepping around his desk toward Elliot. "I never said you were. But Elliot, you need to tell me what happened."

"Captain, why does it matter? That was more than twenty years ago."

"It matters to someone." The expression on his face was grim. Cragen tapped his fingers restlessly on the scrapbook gripped tightly in his hands. Finally, he handed it over to Elliot and watched as he flipped open the first page. He watched as every bit of color drained from his face. Elliot thumbed through, his eyes scanning each and every page before he finally dared to try to find his voice. "Where the hell did you get this?"

"We found it in our suspect's apartment. Now where is your father?"

Elliot sought to make sense out of it all. The images in front of him were swimming inside his brain, an endless cycle that he had tried for years to forget. He closed his eyes. "My father's dead." He raised his head again, his words suddenly defensive. "Why haven't you told me you had a suspect? Who the hell is he?"

"His name is Bradley Garrett Jamison."

"Jamison," Elliot repeated. It took a minute for the name to register. "But that's my father's old partner. I don't understand. I thought he was dead."

"Alex Jamison is dead," Cragen confirmed. "He had two sons--Edward and Bradley." Cragen tossed the report at him.

Elliot caught it between his fingers. He scanned it quickly. "Wait a minute. Edward Jamison is Tucker?"

"He filed a legal name change when he joined IAB. But Tucker's not what I'm worried about. His baby brother is the real problem here."

Elliot turned toward his captain. "What the hell does his brother want with me?"

Cragen took a deep breath. "From what I can see in this scrapbook, it looks like he wants revenge. And if your father's not around, he's going to settle for the next best thing," Cragen managed.

Elliot felt himself sliding back down into the chair. "But why me? I have three brothers and two sisters. He singled me out. Why?"

"You're the only cop, Elliot." Cragen turned to face him, his face grim. "It wasn't Kathy he was after. He was using her to get as much information as he could on you. He wanted Olivia to trust him in that bar. He's been after her the whole time."

"Olivia has nothing to do with my father. Why her?"

"Because she's your partner. He's testing you. He wants to find out how far you'll go to defend your partnership. And Elliot…" Cragen hesitated. "He's not going to stop until we catch him."

Olivia's eyes scanned the map in front of her. "What are all these dots?"

Munch walked through the door and nearly dropped the file in his hand. "Olivia, what are you doing here?"

"My job," she shot back. "And somebody better start filling me in on the details of this case." She shot him a deathly glare. "And don't you dare try and tell me I can't handle it."

Fin sighed. He shot a helpless look at his partner. Munch shrugged in return and grudgingly pulled out a single sheet from the file now clutched tightly in his hand. "Liv, do you recognize anyone here?"

Olivia scanned the photo line-up. Her heart skipped a beat. "Number two," she whispered. Her throat was suddenly dry. She swallowed hard, straightening her shoulders. "Who the hell is he?" she demanded her voice hardening.

"Liv," Fin interrupted. "Come on, why don't you…" He reached for her arm, gently turning her away from the map.

She shrugged him away violently. "What's his name?" she repeated.

"Bradley Garrett Jamison."

Fin's eyes widened. He turned to his partner in disbelief. Munch rolled his eyes. "Trust me. I know women. And there's no way in hell you were getting out of that one."

Olivia tilted her head up defiantly. "Where is he?"

Fin sighed. "We can't find him." He pointed toward the dots on the map reluctantly. "Here's his home and work address. We have uniforms sitting on both places, but so far, no sign of him or the crime scene."

Olivia added one more dot to the map. Munch stepped closer. "That's Elliot's apartment," he noted quickly. Olivia nodded absentmindedly. She closed her eyes.

She blinked hard, fighting to maintain her grip on consciousness. Everything around her was black. Sheer, utter panic gripped her. She couldn't move, she couldn't see. She felt her body shifting, slumping against something hard, and for the first time she realized she was moving. A right turn. Two more stops. A left turn. Two more stops. And then nothing.

Olivia opened her eyes, locating a new spot on the map. "What's right here?"

Munch stepped around her, peering over her shoulder. "That's just the dress shop. Some place called Estello's."

It was dark, the only light filtering in from between the slats of a boarded up window, the only sound--a faint humming…a humming like a sewing machine.

Olivia whirled around. "John, do they make the dresses at the shop?" Her voice was suddenly sharp.

Munch hesitated. "I would assume so. The owner is some guy named Anthony Estello. He was working on a new design when I came in."

Fin was fumbling through the paperwork at his desk. "Wait a minute, John. What's that name again?"

Munch turned toward him. "Anthony Estello. Why? Does that mean something to you?"

Fin stopped. "Yeah, how the hell did we miss that? He tossed the file across the desk to his partner. "Bradley Jamison served six months at Rikers. Take a look who his cellmate was?"

Munch scanned the paperwork quickly. The corners of his lip turned up in a grim smile. "Anthony Estello."