"I have to say, Mr. Beck, this is a very impressive operation you have going here," Casey told the president of the company as she finished getting the tour of SafeTCorp.

"We do our best, Miss Novak," Beck answered with a smug grin, "can I take it that you're interested in our services?"

"You might say that, the only reason I'm at my current job position is because the last ADA who had it was shot to death in a public street by an international criminal who murdered every witness who could testify against him in a murder trial, and also blew up a DEA agent in the process."

"Horrible, but unfortunately those are often the breaks in the world of law and order," Beck said, "the law gives the criminals more rights than the victims and even where it doesn't, they make the loopholes and their lawyers get the courts to okay it."

"So suppose I thought my life might be in jeopardy because some murderer I got convicted years ago suddenly gets released for good behavior and is hellbent on revenge," Casey said, "what would entail in the process?"

"Well, before we take your retainer, we'd have to conduct a thorough background check on you, your family, your associates, we'd have to request you comply with a psychological evaluation, nothing personal you understand, just checking all bases."

"Of course," Casey smiled.

"Then if we did take your case, we would figure out the best way to insert one of our men into your daily life that wouldn't draw much suspicion."

"Like a brother?" Casey asked.

"Or a cousin, a driver, say you recently had a medical incident, he may be your live-in caretaker."

"And if I didn't have a 'medical incident'?" Casey asked.

"We could always fake one," he answered.

"How reassuring," she forced a smile. "And how much would I be paying for your services?"

"The retainer's $100,000."

"Yikes," Casey said with wide eyes and an otherwise straight face. "For one bodyguard? For that price I'd expect four Commandos in a van with machine guns blazing."

"I assure you, we know how to do our job, and we're the best at what we do," Beck told her.

"I see, and all this information you'd need on my background, what would you do with it?"

"We keep files on all our clients, for our records, it's all confidential," Beck said.

"I see…and suppose after…a couple weeks I decided I didn't need a bodyguard anymore?" Casey asked, "Could I terminate services just like that?"

"Why of course, we void contracts with our clients all the time once they feel there's no longer a pertinent threat to their wellbeing," Beck explained. "You would not be charged for a single day more than our guard worked for you."

"And what's the longest I could have one assigned to me?" Casey asked.

"Most of our clients are done with our services in 1-6 months, for the long term cases we assign a bodyguard for up to five years, and if the client feels that isn't long enough, we rotate them and bring in somebody new," Beck told her.

"And say…my bodyguard and I clash, we can't get along to save our lives, could he just walk off the job at any time?" Casey asked.

"Absolutely not, our guards are like the Secret Service agents, they don't get to pick who they're assigned to, they can't play favorites, they have to give every case the same amount of dedication," Beck said, "if they don't, we terminate their employment."

"Uh huh…and are there any other circumstances that could void a guard's employment with a client?"

"If either of them suddenly die, that's about it," Beck told her.

"What if a bodyguard found out their client was breaking the law? Would that void their contract?" Casey asked.

Beck's face did a 180 and he replied defensively, "I beg your pardon?"

"Did I mention I'm with the D.A.'s office?" Casey asked. The look on Beck's face then was priceless. "I believe you spoke to some detectives from SVU earlier."

"You're here about John Clancy," Beck said.

"Actually I'm here about Steven Moll," Casey replied.

"Clancy hasn't even been found yet and already you want to try him for murder."

"I'm just as curious as everyone else to find out what's going on here, if he had reason to believe that Moll was abusing his son, the D.A.'s office might reconsider filing charges," Casey said.

"You can't be serious."

"I can get a warrant in 10 seconds, Mr. Beck, it would be a lot easier if you'd just hand over the file on your late client," she told him.

Beck grumbled something and headed over to a filing cabinet against the wall.

"To answer your question, yes, if a client's found to be breaking the law, that can impact our contract with them," he said.

"Impact, but not terminate?" Casey asked.

"Look, a couple years back our services were requested for a federal witness who was a week away from testifying, got all kinds of death threats from associates of the defendant, a big time drug cartel hitman. The feds pop for two bodyguards until the trial's over and he can be relocated. While they're in this guy's home, which by the way he shares with his wife of 13 years, not that you'd ever know it by listening to them scream at each other all the time, he starts getting into it with his wife and smacking her around, puts her in a choke hold and throws her into the indoor pool."

"Nice guy," Casey said flatly.

"Him being an abusive bastard doesn't change the fact they need his testimony to put away a guy who slaughtered a family of 12. But one of our men took matters into his own hand…broke one of the husband's."

"Seriously?" Casey asked.

"He attended the trial in a sling," Beck told her. "Jury convicts, he and his wife move on to witness protection, but not before our guy advises him if anything else happens to his wife, the cartel will be the least of his worries…then for good measure he broke the guy's other hand, figured there wouldn't be much he could do for about two months, which would give her time to figure out what she wanted to do."

"So if Clancy would've said he suspected Dr. Moll of abusing his son…" Casey started to say.

"Action would've been taken, believe me."

"But he didn't hint that anything was wrong?" Casey asked.

"No, his reports had been mediocre for the last two months," Beck said, "The Pope was seeing more action than this family was."

"I'd like to believe that, our detectives are combing through everything you have on Clancy, so far it sounds like he's a great guy…"

"He is, Miss Novak," Beck was adamant.

"But then why hasn't he called in Steven Moll's death?" Casey asked calmly. "Why did the cops have to tell you he'd been shot?"

That was the question he couldn't answer and they both knew it, and Casey could tell that it was killing him.

"How did Clancy get assigned to the Moll case?" she wanted to know.

"Everybody gets the same training, they endure the same preparations, same background checks, one bodyguard isn't any better or worse prepped for any case than all the rest, all we do is narrow it down to a matching race so they can pass as family."

"Why are you prohibiting the police from going public with this story?" Casey asked. "If you really think John Clancy is innocent, you can't be worried he'll harm David, right?"

"This is a multi-billion dollar industry, if the public gets the idea unstable killers are going to be living with them, our name is mud, thousands of people will be out of work and thousands of others will be without protection," Beck pointed out.

"The BTK Killer worked for ADT Security, that pesky little fact hasn't been the company's undoing," Casey said.

"Because the public didn't find out until years after the fact when he was caught, this is current and the public will be in an uproar, the rest of our clients would likely drop us like flies, we can't protect people if they don't trust us," Beck replied.

"Trust is a two-way street, Mr. Beck," Casey told him, "if I find out that you removed one Post-It note from Steven Moll's files, nothing personal," she mocked his earlier words, "but my detectives will hunt you down and haul you in for conspiracy in the doctor's murder and the disappearance of his son."

He didn't say anything in response, but the look he shot her said it all.

"One more thing, when somebody hires a bodyguard from your company, I'm assuming they show up with more than just a big smile, right?" Casey asked. "What do they bring on the job?"

"Two travel bags containing a few sets of civilian clothes, a first aid kit, an emergency cell phone that runs on batteries, an emergency food kit with 2 liters of bottled water and nonperishable food, two guns and enough ammo to reload each one three times, a ready made passport for their alias, one for the client as well, and $10,000."


"$10,000 in his suitcase, both of them could get out of the country easily on that," Munch said.

"That might be but I doubt he'd take his chance at JFK," Olivia replied, "even if it would take forever to sort through the airport security footage, he knows we'd eventually find him, what flight he got on, what the destination was, all of that."

"Truck drivers know all the back roads and shortcuts to make their time, he could drive out to a private runway and pay someone to fly him out on a charter plane, all off the books," Fin mentioned.

"Do you still think we shouldn't go public with this?" Elliot asked Cragen.

Munch decided to answer, "Sure and open the hotline to 10 million whackos who ever saw a guy with a buzz cut with a kid accompanying him. We'll be sorting false leads until Labor Day, and I'm not even sure what year."

"Well we're not giving up," Cragen said, "nobody goes home tonight, we've still got a mountain of papers to sort through on the vic and the perp, there's got to be something that can explain what's going on."

"If not, it'll do wonders for everybody's speed reading skills," Munch dryly added.

Elliot murmured to Olivia, "I better call Kathy and tell her I won't be home."

"Anybody need a spare set of eyes?" Casey asked as she entered the squad room with two carriers of coffee in her hands.

"What're you doing here?" Cragen asked.

"I want to catch this son of a bitch," Casey answered, "I figured if we're going to be here all night, the coffee should be better than what you usually drink, no offense."

"Oh goodie, an ADA bearing gifts," Munch said as he took a cup, "Casey, you know me like a book. And maybe now that you're on board for a slumber party, we can find the answers to some things that aren't making any sense."

"Like what?"

"Like why Moll only felt a need to hire a bodyguard after his wife died," Olivia answered. "A terminally ill woman in the hospital would especially be a vulnerable target."

"We've been sorting through all the threats against him from the last four years, and the ones he submitted to SafeTCorp as proof he and David's lives were in danger," Elliot said, "none of them mention his wife."

"There were a few," Olivia corrected him, "but none of them made any threats against her, those were more along the lines of telling the doctor his wife dying was karma for the patients he killed."

"And we're sure that his wife's death wasn't foul play?" Casey asked.

"Doesn't seem that way, when his wife got sick, Dr. Moll sprang for a second, third and fourth opinion and they all came back as Huntington's disease," Olivia answered.

"I thought that usually took 10 or 20 years to kill someone," Casey said.

Elliot replied "Normally yeah, but her physical and mental deterioration was sped along by a stroke she suffered, left her half paralyzed, she never left the hospital after that and while she was there…"

"Another stroke occurred," Casey realized.

"Bigger one, pushed her over the edge into total brain death, the doctor couldn't accept it."

"His son couldn't accept it," Olivia added.

"They held off pulling the plug incase the doctors were wrong but finally there wasn't anything left to do," Elliot said.

"So whoever these people were who wanted the doctor dead, didn't mind threatening his son but they didn't see any point in dragging his wife into it too?" Casey asked.

"Now do you see why it doesn't make any sense?" Munch asked.

"And there's been no update on their whereabouts?"

"Every police district in the tri-state area has been alerted to what's going on, we got a BOLO out on the plates for his car," Cragen said.

"As smart as this guy is, he either changed the plate or switched cars," Munch said, "any idiot working for the government would know that."

"Did you check out his ex-wife?" Casey asked.

"Yeah, she says she hasn't seen Clancy since they got divorced, we got an unmarked car watching her house just incase he shows up anyway," Cragen said.

"What about his home?"

"Doesn't have one."

"What?" Casey asked.

"He sold his place when he found out he was going to be undercover for five years," Elliot said. "We've checked, he has no other properties in his name."

"And his parents?"

"They had two properties, both of which have been checked out and turned up empty," Cragen explained.

"And we don't know anybody else he's likely to go to?"

"After four years with no contact you're not going to have many friends left," Elliot said, "these guys lose everything about their own identity, the only cell phones they're allowed to carry are for their cover, they're not allowed to send emails to family or friends, they can't make phone calls to anybody they know, they can't post on social media, it's like they've dropped off the face of the earth. To work at this company takes a dedication you only find in cults."

"Like those damn Moonie people," Munch chimed in.

"Thank you, John," Cragen dryly responded.

Casey managed a small smile and said, "Looks like it's going to be a long night."


"Liv…Liv…Liv!"

Olivia half snorted, half choked, let out a started yelp and reached for her gun as she sprang up on the bed.

"Chill," Fin said as he held his hands up, "it's just me."

Olivia brushed the hair back from her eyes and realized as she rolled over on her back that they were in the crib.

"What time is it?" she asked, slowly remembering the events of last night, reading reports and praying for a lead every time the phone rang, then finally calling it a night around 4 A.M.

"Five to eight," Fin answered. "Casey finally went home a couple hours ago."

Olivia rubbed her eyes groggily, then jumped up as a thought occurred to her. "They find anything?"

"Not yet, we just brought back some coffee and doughnuts."

"We?" Olivia asked.

"Munch ain't been to bed yet, said the bunks up here 're too uncomfortable for his bony ass."

"That his direct quote or yours?" Olivia asked as she smoothed her hair back.

"What the hell's going on down there?" Elliot tiredly asked as his head came into view, upside-down, from his spot on the bunk above Olivia's.

"Time to get up, altar boy," Fin said.

Elliot's head disappeared from Olivia's point of view, then his whole body swung down from the top bunk and asked, "They find the kid yet?"

"We ain't that lucky," Fin shook his head, "let's just hope the boy's still alive."

Olivia checked he watch and said, "Well we're still less than 24 hours into it, that has to count for something."

"What time is it?" Elliot asked.

"8 o' clock."

"Goodnight," Elliot said as he moved to climb back on the top bunk.

Munch came running up the stairs to the crib and called to the other detectives, "We might have something."

"What?" Fin asked.

"Looks like Clancy's burning his tracks," Munch said, "fire department in Queens responded to a fire last night, they found something in the ashes."


The four SVU detectives pulled up beside a vacant lot that was next to a condemned motel that had gone up in flames and was now just a smoldering shell. The dried grass that ran from the motel property to the lot next door was all charred to a crisp that was now drowned in water.

"What happened here?" Elliot asked.

The fire chief met with them and explained, "Some night owl was looking out their window and spotted the flames about midnight and called it in. As far as we can tell, somebody lit a garbage fire in a plastic dumpster next to the motel here and took off, the dumpster melted, as dry as the weather's been it didn't take ten minutes for the whole lawn to go up in flames and then it spread to the building, as bad a shape as it was in the whole thing should've gone up instantly but for some reason it took its time to really start burning. Would've saved a lot of trouble to just let it all burn to the ground, but again, dry as things have been, we had to contain it."

"We were told you found something," Olivia said.

"In what was left of the dumpster…somehow not all of the contents inside had gone up in flames, enough of it was salvageable to get a good idea what happened. The local cops told us about this guy you're looking for. As soon as we saw what it was, we figured we'd better call you."

The detectives walked over to the other side of the lot where the fire hadn't reached, and saw the remnants of several items laid out on the lawn. Most of it was burnt beyond recognition but they were able to make out part of a boy's blazer, part of a black tie, a white shirt, tan pants, part of a backpack and blackened parts of about four school text books.

"Oh my God," Olivia exhaled.

"Find anything else?" Elliot asked.

The fire chief shook his head, "Everything else that was in that dumpster is long gone."