Author's Note: I apologize that this chapter both took so long to get out and is shorter than I originally intended. Thank you to all of you who waited so patiently. And Thank You all so much for your reviews. Happy reading.
******
Olivia stood in the squad room her eyes scanning the poem for what had to be the thousandth time, every inch of her feeling the strain of her sleepless night. Every time she'd closed her eyes Riccoli's face had surged up through the darkness and she would jerk awake, her heart pumping thick with fear. After a while she'd given up trying to sleep, instead mainlining coffee, which had kept her awake but was making her incredibly edgy. She felt a hand land on her shoulder and jumped, only barely resisting the urge to scream. She glanced over her shoulder to see Cragen standing there, a concerned look in his eyes.
"You need to get some sleep Olivia," he said quietly. "You can't catch this guy by yourself," he told her.
"I just… I really need to work right now," she said tiredly, watching him for a second before turning back to the board. "This poem," she said softly, "is unnecessarily long. He could have gotten the same message across without going to so much detail. And why even leave a poem?" She questioned glancing over at her captain.
Cragen stood beside her for several long minutes, his eyes scanning, before he saw it. He grabbed a pen from Olivia's desk and leaned forward, circling the first letter of every line. He stood back from the board and glanced at Olivia. "Justice In Death," he said quietly.
"How did I miss that?" Olivia asked in disbelief. "I've been staring at this damn board for hours and I never saw it."
"Give yourself a break," Cragen said, moving to stand between her and the board. "Did you even go home last night?" He questioned. "Don't answer that," Cragen said holding up his hand as she began to answer. "I don't want to know. This is understandably disturbing for you, with the recent ties that have surfaced to Riccoli. I can't even imagine what you must be feeling right now," he said sympathetically. "I can't afford to lose you on this Olivia. You have experience with Riccoli that could prove crucial to this case. But if you keep going this way I'll have no choice. You're no good to me running on fumes. I need you clear headed and you need rest. Do us both a favor and get some sleep Olivia," he said. "Or I'll have no choice but to send you home," he added when it looked like she was about to object, noting how her jaw tightened at the thought of going home. "Catch some sleep up in the crib or go home detective. Those are your choices."
Olivia nodded tightly, moving towards the stairs that would take her to the crib. She glanced over at Elliot's desk, noticing for the first time all morning that it was empty. "Where's Elliot?" She asked, climbing the stairs to the crib slowly.
"Executing a search warrant," Cragen told her. "Munch decoded the anagram," he said gesturing to the board where "flex hint fad" was written and underneath that Munch had written Fifth and Lex. "Your partner's over there now."
******
Elliot tensed, bringing his gun up as the leader of the tac team finished the silent countdown. They moved quickly and quietly into the building.
The first thing that hit Elliot was the absolute silence as they walked into the building. Elliot's eyes darted around the wide open space before him. The second thing that he noticed was that although it was a bright sunny morning outside the store was dimly lit and barely enough light to illuminate the small group of people tied to chairs in the middle of the room filtered in through the heavily draped windows.
There were five terrified captives tied to metal chairs, their mouths gagged with duct tape. On each piece of tape a word was written in bright red marker. The team made a quick sweep of the building, coming back several seconds later.
"Building's clear," the team leader announced. "Let's get these people out of here," he said motioning to his men. They holstered their weapons, moving forward to untie the hostages. Almost as one the hostages let out a muffled cry, some frantically shaking their heads while others were just shaking, tears pouring down their faces.
Elliot holstered his gun, holding up his hands to show the hostages he was unarmed. "It's alright," he said soothingly, giving them a small smile. "We're here to help you." He motioned to the officer next to him to move forward slowly. "We're the police." As those words left his mouth he heard an ominous click, a click that sounded hauntingly familiar. For a split second Elliot could actually feel the hot desert sun on his skin, the smell of death surrounding him. Over a decade ago that sound had very nearly been the last thing he heard.
"No one move!" Elliot shouted. The officers in the room froze, shooting confused glances all around them. But the hostages seemed even more terrified than before. "Someone has activated the trigger on what sounded like a pressure plate. Don't move anymore than you absolutely have to, and whatever you do don't move your feet." Elliot took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. "Everyone check the floor beneath you. We need to find the person or persons on the trigger quickly." He looked carefully down at the floor, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw nothing but the solid wood flooring beneath his shoes.
Elliot relaxed visibly, glancing around at the other officers. He noticed that the kid next to him was standing frozen, his face pale and drawn. Elliot looked down at the officer's feet and saw the corner of a pressure plate peeking out from beneath the fringed border of the floor rug.
The room was suddenly filled with a low buzzing noise, the buzzing growing increasingly louder with each passing second. The lights began to flicker wildly, and the muffled cries of the hostages reached a new crescendo, their wails combining into one eerie voice. Elliot looked back at the group, their faces twisted in agony as they jolted violently in their seats. It only took a second, a second that seemed frozen in time, for enough electricity to course through the victims for the smell of burning flesh to fill the cavernous room.
******
Elliot could still hear their muffled screams echo in his ears, the smell of burnt flesh clinging to him. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying against all hope to force the last hours out of his mind. He took a deep breath, shaking his head as if the movement would somehow dislodge the events from his memory, and opened his eyes to find Olivia staring at him across their desks. It was times like these that Elliot knew why he loved her so much. She wouldn't push him to share his feelings; she wouldn't look at him with hurt in her eyes when he pushed her away. She just knew, without him having to say a word, what he was going through. And that was everything to him.
Elliot held her gaze briefly before getting to his feet and moving to the board. He stared at the latest crime scene photos that had been added to the board. The killer had treated the skin of his victims with some kind of chemical so that when the electricity surged through them the treated skin ignited, burning the latest set of clues into each of the victims.
"Come to where your justice waits," Elliot read aloud, his brow furrowing in concentration. "What the hell does that mean?" He asked in frustration.
"Justice In Death," Olivia said. She stood up and walked over to the board, pointing to the hidden message that Cragen had found. "Think about it El. This guy is fixated on us. He leaves us clues at every crime scene. Not the police, but us specifically. He took pictures of me in my apartment. He sent us a newspaper article on the Riccoli case. He's taken a woman who is either a cop or who he's dressed as one, that looks remarkably like me," she said with a shiver. "Death has come for its revenge. All his pain you'll feel," she read, motioning to the poem.
"This guy is avenging Riccoli?" Elliot asked incredulously, his heart skipping a beat at the idea. He stared at Olivia, for the first time seeing her pale drawn face and the dark circles under her eyes. "Liv," he started quietly.
"Elliot!" Kathy wailed, barreling through the open doors of the squad room. Elliot turned to her, his heart jumping into his throat as he saw the terror on her tear streaked face.
"What's wrong?" He asked, immediately going to her side. "What happened?"
"She's gone," Kathy cried, tears pouring down her face, grasping Elliot's arms tightly. Her eyes searched his. "Kathleen's gone," Kathy choked out.
Elliot felt his heart freeze, indescribable terror pushing its way through his veins. "Tell me what happened, start at the beginning," he said shakily.
"She went out with some friends tonight and she didn't come home when she was supposed to. I thought she was just being rebellious, acting out because of what's going on with us," Kathy cried out, her voice shaking with every word. "So I called her friends and they said they dropped her off at home. They swore to me that the last time they'd seen her she was walking up to the house," she cried, tears cascading down her face. "So I checked her room and found these," she said handing Elliot a long stemmed rose and a scrap of paper. Elliot took it in trembling hands.
'Daddy's girl so sweet, might be good enough to eat. She's dying to see you Elliot. Don't keep me waiting,' Elliot read silently.
"What is it El?" Olivia asked moving towards him, putting her hand gently on his arm. She took the slip of paper from him and read it. "Oh God," she breathed.
He looked up at her, his face tight with anger and white with fear. "He's got her Liv," he said tightly. "This bastard has my daughter."
******
Reviews make writing go faster ;-)