A/N: Thanks again for all those that reviewed the last chapter, especially CNovak929, who never fails to review! I greatly appreciate you. Anyway, CNovak929, here's an extra-long update for you, since we're both leaving soon. I had this next part in 2 chapters, but I decided to combine them. It might make more sense that way.

Chapter 3

Casey walked into a metaphorical beehive of activity the next morning at the 1-6. Everyone, uniforms and detectives alike, dashed around the room, hustling to get the necessary info.

Elliot spotted her and waved her over. "Good morning, Counselor," he greeted her with a smile. "How'd you get here anyway?"

"Rode my bike in. Anything new on the Callahan case?"

"We're running some suspicious banking activity from both the Callahans and the Harrises."

"They're over ten thousand dollars in the red," Olivia piped up from her desk. "But there's nothing on their credit cards to indicate they've been using it there."

"And if it's not done on a legal basis, it has to be illegal," Casey finished. "Who did Boston like for the murders up there?"

"A guy named Connor Miller." Munch stood and tacked another picture on the board. "Legally immigrated to Boston from Dublin three years ago. A friend of mine in Boston investigated the case. He said Miller was involved in some suspicious activities up there, but they couldn't grab him. Apparently Miller's got some buddies in Ireland that prefer to do their political activities with bombs and guns."

"So he's IRA?" Casey asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's he doing in the States?"

Fin huffed. "Said he was coming here to start a new life. Like most people in America."

"Any idea on his whereabouts now?"

"We're running his name through Amtrak records and airline tickets." Elliot shrugged. "We just have to wait for the bureaucracy to come through for us."

Casey glanced at her watch. "Damn," she muttered. "I have to be in court in an hour. Gotta let Willis go for the Harris murders with the District Attorney's sincerest apologies." She pointed toward Olivia. "Keep me updated?"

Olivia nodded and grinned. "Keep me updated too." She chuckled at Casey's passing glare. "We'll call you when we come up with anything."

As Casey disappeared around the corner, Elliot cocked an eyebrow at his partner. "Keep you updated? About what?"

"Girl talk, El." She patted him on the shoulder and sat in her chair. "Okay, it'll take us a while for Amtrak and the airlines to get back to us."

"Maybe we should canvass the neighborhood, see if anyone saw anything," Elliot said with a shrug. "We might get an idea of what they were up to."

"Good idea," Captain Don Cragen said as he finally made an appearance in the bull pen. "And while you're at it, talk to the FBI. They might have an idea of who Miller's working for."

Munch sighed and stood. "We'll take the boys in black."

FBI Field Office
26 Federal Plaza

"Please, come in," Agent Andrew Russell motioned toward a couple of chairs in front of his desk. "I'm happy to help the NYPD."

"Attempting to show full cooperation, Agent Russell?" Munch asked, his typical sardonic tone undisguised in his voice as he took his seat next to Fin.

"Of course." Agent Russell sat down in his chair and folded his hands on his desktop. "Now, what can I do to help you, Detective?"

Fin pulled out a picture of Miller from his jacket pocket. "We're trying to find this man in connection with a triple homicide on the Lower East Side last night."

Russell reached out and took the photo from Fin. "Connor Miller." Russell shook his head. "I heard about those murders last night. What's the evidence?"

"An Irish farthing was found next to the bodies," Munch replied. "It's eerily similar to a case in Boston we heard about."

Russell nodded. "I've seen the case file. So you know Boston liked him for the last murders?"

Fin nodded. "So we've heard. That's why we're interested."

"We understand he has connections," Munch added.

"I can tell you right now he's got connections to organized crime here in the States." Russell leaned back in his chair slightly, the leather squeaking under the shift in weight distribution. "We've been after Miller for years in connection with three similar murders with similar calling cards across the country, but we haven't found enough evidence to hold him."

"Is he here in New York?"

Russell nodded again. "Absolutely. One of my sources says he arrived in town about a week before your murders occurred."

"Any chance that the Callahans were involved in organized crime?" Fin asked.

"If they were, they were fairly low-level," Russell replied with a shrug. "My guy hasn't said anything about them. But I haven't been in contact with him in the last couple of days."

"Any chance we could get in contact with your guy?" Munch raised his eyebrows as Russell shook his head.

"Not without endangering his life and the operation. He's deep undercover. Has been for the last three years. If you can trace this case back to Miller without using him, you might break my case wide open for me."

"If the Callahans were so low-level, why would they order a hit on them?" Fin asked.

Russell shrugged again. "Could be that they were withholding from the boss. If they were involved, you'll find funds undisclosed to the IRS, money that seems to disappear into supposedly legal businesses. If you want I can give you a list of the business we've been looking at under RICO."

Munch nodded. "Anything you can do to help."

16th Precinct

"Well, welcome back," Munch said, glancing up as Olivia and Elliot walked through the bull pen to their desks. "Any luck?"

Olivia sighed. "No. No one would talk to us."

"You should have seen the looks in their eyes," Elliot said, nursing his cup of coffee. "They're scared to death of someone out there."

"Most of them freaked out when we even got close to them." Olivia checked her watch. "I need to call Casey. She should be out of court by now." She pulled out her cell phone and disappeared down the hall.

"Well, while the two of you were taking a nice stroll through Yonkers, Fin and I talked to the FBI about our favorite terrorist," Munch said, leaning back in his chair.

Elliot's eyebrows went up. "Oh? What did they say?"

"Miller is definitely in town. They've been watching him for connections to organized crime. They've got a guy that's deep undercover, gathering evidence for a federal case."

"The Irish mob?" Elliot looked skeptical.

"The Italians have a mafia, the Russians have a mafia; why not the Irish?" Fin asked. "The FBI gave us a list of companies they've been looking at under the RICO Act. Some of them are traceable back to this guy." He tacked up another picture next to Miller's.

Elliot stared at the picture. "Philip Sullivan?"

"Father emigrated here from Ireland back in the '50's. He's managed to stay under the radar, since no suspicious companies are directly linked to him. However, he does sit on the boards of three of the companies on the FBI's list."

"Any of them have links to our vics?"

"Just one." Munch handed Elliot a slip of paper. "The McHale Company. They advertise special help for families of direct Irish descent in getting jobs. Sullivan is the president and CEO of the company."

"How do the Callahans and Harrises fit in with this?"

"Both of them put ten thousand dollars each into the company about two years ago. The bank provided us with copies of their checks." Munch tacked up two more pieces of paper onto the board. "They wrote them within five days of each other. The forensic accountants say it's definitely suspicious."

Elliot raised his eyebrows. "I'd be inclined to agree." He was interrupted by the shrill ringing of his desk phone. He quickly picked it up. "Special Victims, Stabler." He listened for a moment. "Okay, we'll be right down." His eyebrows went up as he replaced the phone. "That was the forensics lab. They lifted a partial off the coin. Guess who it belongs to."

Munch raised his hand. "I know. Connor Miller."

"Bingo."

"Now if we could just find the guy."

Elliot checked his watch. "Well, it's after eight p.m. Liv and I will stop by the McHale company tomorrow morning first thing. Let's see if we can get some straight answers from this Sullivan guy."

Casey pedaled her bike down the sidewalk on her way to Mulroney's Bar. All day long, her mind had been on Jack. During court, while she was writing briefs in her office, while she was filing motions… she couldn't get the man out of her mind. Casey Novak wasn't one to fall easily, and these feelings she'd been having scared her.

Her private thoughts were interrupted by the incessant chirping of her cell phone. She skillfully controlled the bike with one hand and reached into her pocket for the other. She couldn't resist a roll of her eyes when she saw the caller I.D. Olivia Benson. In one swift motion, she flipped the phone open. "Novak," she said into the microphone.

"Hey Casey."

"Hey. Anything new?"

"Munch and Fin talked to the Feds. The Callahans and the Harrises were putting about ten thousand dollars into a company on their watch-list."

"Let me guess. The ten thousand dollars weren't reported to the IRS."

"You got it. The company belongs to a guy named Philip Sullivan. Me and Elliot are heading there in the morning."

"Who's that?"

"He stays under the radar, so he's never been convicted of any charge. One more thing. Forensics lifted a print off the coin."

"Connor Miller?"

"Yep."

A grin spread over Casey's face. "We got him."

"Yeah, now all we have to do is find him."

"Maybe we can flip this Sullivan guy."

"Doubt it. Something tells me he didn't get on the FBI's watch-list by being stupid."

"Well, you get me the evidence, I'll get you a conviction."

"Always. So," Olivia said, a slightly teasing tone creeping into her voice. "Where are you?"

Casey rolled her eyes. "Going for a drink."

"Really? Mind if I tag along?"

Casey chuckled. "In your dreams, Benson."

"I'd better hear if something happens."

"Believe me, Liv, if anything happens…"

"I'll be the first to know. I know."

Up ahead, Casey saw the neon sign of Mulroney's. "Hey I gotta go."

"Call me later."

Casey rolled her eyes again as she braked to a stop. "Good night, Detective." With that, she flipped her phone shut and dismounted from her bike. She opened the door to the bar and quickly scanned the room until her eyes fell on a lone figure at the end of the bar. A smile unconsciously spread across her face, and she wound her way around the other patrons at the bar and pool tables.

As she approached him, Jack finally looked up and cracked a huge smile. "Didn't think you'd actually come back," he said as she placed her briefcase on a chair and slid into the chair next to him.

"Let's just say you piqued my curiosity and it's been a long day." Casey ordered a beer and crossed her legs under the bar.

"Long day?"

"I had court all day."

Jack leaned closer to her. "You still haven't told me what exactly you do."

Casey's eyebrows went up. "Maybe I don't like taking my work home with me. Especially when I meet a good-looking guy who seems interested."

"Who is interested," Jack corrected, giving her a smile. "Which is why I want to get to know you better."

"Perhaps if I knew you better, I could let you know me better."

Jack shook his head. "You must be a great lawyer."

"I am." Casey sighed and sipped her beer. She still wasn't sure what to tell him. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off.

Jack sensed her discomfort. It wasn't hard. She was a girl who, more often than not, showed her emotions on her sleeve. He'd only met her twice and he could already tell. "You know, it's okay." He placed a rough hand on her hand and gently squeezed. "You don't have to tell me what you do. At least, not until after we have sex."

Casey choked on her beer and turned bright red. "Wh-what?" she coughed out. She risked a glance at Jack's face and narrowed her eyes at his wide grin. "Very funny," she growled.

"I thought it was." He took a sip of his own beer. "Well, if you won't tell me what you do, at least tell me something about yourself."

"Only if you promise to tell me something about yourself."

He grinned. "Okay. You go first."

Two hours and two drinks later, Casey was wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "So you actually fell out of a window."

"No, I fell into a room from the window. And I'm lucky I lived."

"You're lucky you lived on the first floor." Her sides ached from laughing at Jack's stories. Over the past two hours, she had learned that he was from a small town in Kentucky, he loved playing basketball and baseball, and he had somehow survived his college years through some good ol' Irish luck. Casey giggled more at the pouty look on his face. "Aw, poor baby," she crooned, pinching his cheek.

A flush spread across his handsome face. "Very funny." Never before in his life had Jack enjoyed spending time with a woman so much. Casey was intelligent, funny, and an extremely empathetic listener. He'd learned she had a mean softball swing, and she hadn't hesitated to challenge him to a game. He respected a woman who wasn't afraid to assert herself.

Casey groaned when she checked her watch. "Damn," she muttered. She shot Jack an apologetic look. "Look, this has been absolutely great…"

He nodded understandingly. "You have to go to work in the morning." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay."

She gave him a grateful smile and slid off the chair. A thoughtful look crossed her face, and she snatched a napkin off the bar and scribbled something on it. "This is my cell number," she said as she handed him the napkin. "Call me sometime?"

Jack smiled and took the napkin from her. "Absolutely." He tossed a twenty on the bar and stood as well. "Can I be a gentleman and walk you out?"

"Well, it's against my feminist ideals," she mused with a grin, "But I guess it's okay."

He chuckled and ushered her out the door, placing his hand on her lower back. He felt her stiffen, then relax, under his hand, and he couldn't resist a small smile.

The air was cool when they stepped out of the bar, and Casey shivered a little bit. She couldn't tell whether it was the air or Jack's proximity to her body. But he seemed to sense it, and he quickly took off his own coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. Casey smiled at him gratefully.

"So where's this car of yours?" Jack asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Casey chuckled. "I never said I have a car." She motioned to her bike, still leaning against the brick wall. "I ride my bike. Saves money."

He shook his head and grinned as he walked her toward the bike. "I really enjoyed tonight, Casey," he said seriously.

She smiled. "I did too."

"Listen." Jack toed the ground nervously. "God, it's been a while since I've done this. I was wondering if… maybe tomorrow you'd be willing to go on a real date with me."

Casey cocked an eyebrow. "Real date?"

"Yeah. You know, come over to my place and I'll cook you dinner…"

"You cook?"

Jack grinned. "I make a mean lasagna."

Casey considered it for a moment, then nodded. "It's a date."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good." Jack looked down at her smiling face and gave her a soft smile. His blue eyes met her green ones, and it was like he was magnetically drawn to her. Jack reached up with one finger and gently brushed her cheek with his finger.

Her breath hitched, and Casey swallowed hard. She hesitantly placed one hand on his cheek and tilted her face upward. His hand moved to her waist, pulling her body toward him as his face moved toward hers. She closed her eyes and felt his lips tenderly brush hers.

Jack kept the kiss chaste and gentle, although his hormones screamed for more. Her arm snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to her, and his arms wrapped around her waist. Finally they parted, smiling softly as their eyes stayed locked.

"Wow," she whispered, her green eyes shining.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah," he whispered back.

"I should probably get going."

Jack nodded and reluctantly removed his hands from her waist. "Yeah." He shoved his hands into his pocket and nervously toed the ground.

Casey nodded and grabbed her helmet from the back of her bike, her lips still tingling from the kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll call you."

She nodded as she fastened the helmet on her head and mounted her bike. She shot him a quick smile before pedaling off down the street.

A/N2: Please don't shoot me... I swear all this will make sense eventually. Trust me. I have a huge twist in mind. And you have to admit... the guy's likable. Who wouldn't fall for a good-looking, funny guy? Review!