A/N - I own nothing.
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Chapter Three - Connecting
He opened the top file and his resolve faltered before he had even begun, seeing Olivia's familiar scrawl across the bottom of one of the reports. But he took a deep breath and muttered at himself to get a grip. It was only going to get worse from here, and if he fell apart now then he'd never see this through.
There was all the usual information: victim's name, address, report of the attack and photos of her injuries. He could sit and read the statement, stick to the simplicity of black and white words without emotions, but it was both easier and more difficult to sink again into his memories. Easier because she would be within them, he could reach out and almost touch her, see her, hear her. More difficult for precisely that reason.
He took a deep breath and started reading, knowing that his mind would take over and twist the words into vivid memories. Really, he had no choice in the matter at all.
"It was an ordinary middle-of-the-night call. His cell had shrieked at him to wake up at just past 1a.m and both his body and mind confirmed that he hadn't been asleep long. The conversation was short, if not sweet, and he slipped from the bed carefully, not wanting to wake his sleeping wife. She would only utter that sigh, the one that showed her impatience at their night being broken again, as if it were his fault there had been another victim created. It was simpler if she just slept.
Thirty minutes later he was pulling up outside an apartment building, barely taking in the standard flashing lights of squad cars and an ambulance, and the normal sight of a uniform taking a statement from a man. He walked into the lobby and was directed up one flight of stairs. When he rounded the corner at the top he saw Olivia, her messily pulled back hair highlighting the fact that they should both be in bed, and as she saw him coming she cut off her conversation with another officer and stepped towards him.
"What now?" While his question would have sounded harsh to any other person, he could see only understanding in her eyes. The frustration of yet another crime, the resignation that it happened at night and the knowledge that these scenes would never come to an end.
"Twenty three year old Laura Hayden, came home from a night with friends and was ambushed by a guy in her apartment, hiding behind the front door." She glanced down at her notebook for a second. "Seems he held a knife to her throat and then raped her. First on scene couldn't get much more out of her. She's being seen by an EMT now."
Elliot nodded and stepped towards the open door to the apartment, looking down as he did so.
"No damage to the lock," he stated to no one in particular.
Olivia stepped past him and into the main living area, the kitchenette to one side and an open window straight ahead of them, facing the door. She gestured to it.
"Seems he got in from the fire escape. Only took one blow to the lock to break it enough to open the window."
Moving towards the girl sitting on her sofa, Olivia took the lead and introduced them as Elliot swept his eyes across the rest of the apartment. There was a small smear of blood on the floor about eight feet inside the door but, other than that and the window, there were no other signs of an attack.
As Olivia pulled out a pen and began listening to the girl, Laura, tell her story, he moved closer to hear it for himself.
"I got home about 11pm I guess. I'd been with some friends, we go to the movies every week, it's a standing date."
He watched her as she began to talk, assessing her body language and attitude. It wasn't that he automatically disbelieved a victim, it couldn't be further from the truth, but there were signals that could often reveal more than the words said.
"Did you notice anything odd before you came into the apartment?"
She shook her head, long dark hair falling slightly in front of her face before she pushed it back and looked at Olivia.
"No, nothing."
"Did you hear anything unusual?"
A repeat of the shake, and the falling of the hair.
"Okay, what happened next?" Olivia leant forward, almost imperceptibly, as if to offer support, or make sure she didn't miss anything. Probably both, and Elliot doubted Laura was even aware, but he was so used to his partner, he knew her ways. The girl took a deep breath and began, her voice shaking slightly already.
"I unlocked the door and tried to turn the light on but nothing happened. I figured the bulb had blown or something. The door shut behind me, and then I heard something. It was hardly anything, not enough to make me jump or anything, and I went to move but suddenly there was a hand over my mouth and something digging in my throat."
"Was he wearing gloves?" Elliot asked, and she looked at him for the first time, but without meeting his eyes, before staring back down at her hands.
"Yeah. Wool I think. And a dark colour, blue or black." He nodded, and she took another breath.
"It happened so fast. He....he said he had a knife and he wasn't afraid to use it. I tried to move a bit and he pushed it harder and cut me. Just.....a little cut, but then he kissed it." Her fingers touched the small red line on her neck and she shivered slightly at the thought. "He said he didn't want to kill me but he would if I gave him trouble."
She swallowed, and a tear drifted from the corner of her eye, tracing her skin before Olivia pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it over. Elliot looked at the floor, not wanting to intrude on her trauma more than he could manage.
"I told him to take what he wanted. My wallet, my laptop, my jewellery, anything. He gave this laugh, and said that wasn't what he had come for."
She had already started tearing the tissue up, pulling little pieces off and letting them drop to the floor as snowflakes.
"He told me to get down on the floor, on my stomach, with my arms reaching above my head. When I lay down, he got on top of me, the knife pressing against my throat again. He pulls my pants down so hard I heard them rip. Then he pulled my panties down and put his knee between my legs. I tried to kick him but he slammed my head against the floor. Hard enough to draw blood. And then he.......he....."
Her words had been getting faster and faster as she recounted the events, as if speed would make it all be over sooner, and remove some of the impact of what happened. They both give her silence for a second before Elliot fills the gap.
"He raped you."
She nodded, not looking up at all, her shoulders curling in towards her.
"Yes. The knife was still at my throat and every time he moved it scratched me." She distractedly touched her neck again.
"He was so heavy, I could hardly breathe." As she neared the end of her story, her voice was getting dimmer, the energy and life draining out of her like the air from her lungs.
It was with a note of disbelief that she continued, "it didn't take very long. When he started I.....I thought it would last forever, but it didn't." She shrugged slightly and sighed.
"Then he got off, and told me to close my eyes. He said he'd kill me if I looked. I tried too, out of the corner of my eye, without him seeing, but it was so dark. He went to the door and opened it, and then he left." She straightened up as she finished, and looked at Olivia who had been making small, discrete notes.
There was an appeal in her voice, a child to an adult, looking for confirmation or understanding about her actions as she spoke again.
"I didn't know what to do. I guess I just lay there for a few minutes before I could move. Then I called 911."
"You did great," Olivia reassured, resting her hand on Laura's knee for a second before looking back down to her notes and resuming the questions.
"Could you tell how big he was?"
She considered for a second, and Elliot saw it looked easier for her now it was down to the details instead of the emotions and overall experience.
"Taller than me. Maybe, a head taller? I'm 5'5". I guess perhaps 6ft or so." Olivia nodded.
"And what about his build?"
"Not......big like, fat. But he was really strong. And heavy." Elliot shifted slightly, and asked,
"What about his voice? Did you recognise him?"
She looked up at him, shock flashing over her pale, tear-stained face at the thought of someone who knew her being able to do that, before the numb and exhausted mask returned.
"No. I didn't."
"And did he has an accent?" She shook her head without speaking. Olivia could see her tiring, and softened her voice.
"Did he have a smell?"
Laura looked like she was going to burst into tears, biting her bottom lip and holding her breath before her eyes flickered round the room and settled again toward the floor.
"Umm.......his breath smelt of mint. Like he'd been chewing gum, or brushed his teeth. Other than that, he just smelt...........like a guy." The shrug was there again, punctuating her statement, and she rubbed her face with her hand. Elliot could see the tiredness creeping further and further up on her.
"We're nearly done with the questions. Just a couple more. Have you had any trouble recently? Split up with a boyfriend?" Even though she said she didn't recognise him or the voice, it was another one of those things he had to ask.
"No, I'm single at the moment. My ex moved to Europe about 2 months ago and I haven't been seeing anyone." Possibly at the thought of her boyfriend, or the fact she hadn't got one, the tears started flowing faster and her body began to shake. The shock was beginning to wear off, and the pain had begun.
Olivia shifter further forward on the coffee table she was perched on, after putting the pad in her pocket.
"Okay, you're going to go to hospital now to get checked over, and they'll run a rape kit to look for evidence. I'll be with you the whole time, alright?" Laura nodded and began to stand up, her hand reaching for Olivia's as she put her arm around the wobbly girl's back.
When they started to walk out of the apartment, Elliot went over to the officer at the door.
"Initial canvass get anything?" He asked, but the other man shook his head.
"No. Nobody saw a guy, no one heard anything, and there are no security cameras in the building."
Elliot sighed. Unless it was an acquaintance rape, which looked unlikely, or the rapist had handily left DNA or fingerprints and was in the system, this seemed as though it was going to be one of those cases where they didn't catch a break.
Now, looking back, he remembered different things about that case. Olivia's hair slipping slightly from its band throughout the whole interview; the journey to the precinct in silence, both so used to one another that no words were needed; the sight of her expression when he stopped for coffee and handed it to her.
In the car, all that hung in the air was the quiet recognition of never expressed despair, numbed by years and the harsh practicalities of the job but existing in tiny shards nonetheless. Always there was this, sometimes just for a second and other for minutes or hours, before life and the cop voice kicked in and emotions were expunged, or ignored.
Elliot rubbed his hand down his face and realised that this part of the continuing ordeal was over, for the minute. The file and the two below were ones at which he had looked over more times than he could think, still searching for clues, and he dreaded being forced to go through them yet again.
But, at the same time, he feared not doing so. It would mean the end, and the answers. Even though answers was what they have all been continually seeking, faced with the possibility, ignorance began to seem more and more appealing.
He skimmed the rest of the file, and the two under it. Two other names: Kirsty More and Joanna Lister, with statements to match their first victim's, and the dates of the crimes coming ten and sixteen days after the first. The only difference was the point of entry, the perp had picked the locks of the other two, but all else showed it was the same guy. And, at the end, the final kick in the guts that meant these rape victims were more connected to Olivia than he could ever have imagined.
A sheet of paper with DNA results, matching all three of the victims to each other and the single perp.
He didn't want what was about to happen, and he fought it for a few deep gasps of breath as his fingers dug into the desk. But, inevitably, he lost, and he saw Melinda walking through the door to the precinct, the darkness of night of that first, terrible day following her in, causing the crowded room to hush as she looked towards Elliot and the other detectives.
She held out a file, but began speaking before Cragen could even open it.
"I put a rush on the blood found in Olivia's apartment. I compared the sample to hair from her hairbrush. The blood on the counter and the floor beneath is a match to hers."
Elliot vaguely heard a gasp, the murmur of voices from the outskirts of the room, and the silence of those standing by him. He could feel it, the oppressiveness as the information settled around them, enveloping them. Behind him he was aware of Fin punching his desk, but he didn't move. Melinda twisted her hands together in worry and trepidation, before speaking again.
"There's more," she said, taking a a deep breath. "There were small blood spots found on the other side of the kitchen, toward the living area. They weren't Olivia's."
Elliot was too numb, too lost to speak, but Cragen did.
"Do we know whose it is?" His voice came out sharp, probably sharper than he intended but Melinda didn't appear to react, looking him straight in the eye as she answered.
"It's a match to the semen found in Laura Hayden, Kirsty More and Joanna Lister." And as they stared at her, fear roared in Elliot's head, loud as a building falling around him, waves overpowering him and dragging him under."
Sitting at the desk, at Munch's old desk, he could still hear that sound beneath his thoughts. The noise that had overpowered him the moment hope began to die.
Again - not begging but reviews/criticisms/comments are appreciated and much valued.