An Ill Wind
Chapter Nine
The Rundown
OOO
16th Precinct
Special Victims Unit
9:20 A.M., November 20, 2005
Olivia and Don exchanged a look, both of them surprised that nothing had ever been mentioned about Elliot's first, apparently nearly fatal, encounter with Roger Devane, and then after a gesture from the captain, Olivia spoke again.
"We're trying to find DeVane, Alphonse, but we keep hitting dead ends. I thought Elliot's notes on the old case might help us locate him this time, but when I pulled the file, I couldn't find anything about how Elliot figured out he was the perp or how he knew where to catch him. I was hoping you could give me some of the information that's missing."
"There's nothin' missin' from Elliot's notes. We never really knew who he was," Alphonse told them. "It was just plain dumb ass luck that Elliot caught the bastard. There was no police work involved."
Another look of confusion flew across the captain's desk in New York.
"Well, why don't you tell us how it happened, Alphonse?" Olivia coaxed.
"Yeah, all right," the retired detective said agreeably. "Well, it started with Elliot an' me gettin' saddled with a week of four-to-twelves. I still don't know who the hell we pissed off to deserve that on the Fourth of July weekend, but the good thing about it was we had the days off to spend with our families. 'Course, the bad things about it were all the kooks come out after dark, people drink too much on the holiday weekends, an' as hot as it was, tempers were short. We knew we were gonna have a lot of business."
Olivia couldn't resist a small chuckle. "That much hasn't changed," she said.
"Yeah, well, all the nuts roll down hill to Florida. Ya ought to come visit some time an' see what I mean. You have no idea how freaky people can get down here. Anyway, communication between the precincts wasn't what it is now, an' by the time Elliot an' I caught the Suzie Liu case, there had already been five attacks," Alphonse went on.
"Elliot was the one who discovered the pattern. It was the Friday before our night shift started, an' I was in court on another case, so he spent his afternoon makin' calls an' convincin' other detectives to fax him their reports whenever he found somethin' that looked like a match. When he took his findin's to Cap'n Christian, old Wild Bill wanted to take it away from him an' make me the primary." Now that he had started the story, the retired detective had dropped the banter and was all business . . .
1993
"I took the call, Captain," Elliot persisted, "I did the research, and right now I know this guy better than any cop in the five boroughs."
"I realize that," Bill Christian told his detective patiently, "and that's why I'm going to keep you on the case assisting Alphonse."
"Damn it, Captain!" Elliot blurted in frustration, standing up as he did so. "I'm the lead investigator on this case. You can't take it away from me. It's my first time as the primary!"
"Will you sit down and shut up, Detective?"
Elliot practically leaped into the chair to comply. He knew the nickname 'Wild Bill' was a deliberate ironic misnomer. His Captain's surname, Christian, was a much more accurate reflection of his personality. William Christian was a life-long bachelor who didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't use profanity or tolerate it from his subordinates unless they were questioning a suspect, and had never, as far as his squad knew, had a romantic relationship with any woman, or man, for that matter. He kept a Bible in his office, which he often read when his work got him down and from which he could fluently quote long passages relevant to almost any subject discussed in the squad room. He was a good ten years older than most of his peers in the NYPD, yet he'd only had his captaincy for two years. Rumor had it he was a decade behind in his career because he had taken a few years off to pursue a Doctorate of Divinity from Columbia University and then waffled about for a while as he considered joining the priesthood.
How much of the story was true, Elliot didn't know, but of one thing he was certain: When Captain Christian started throwing around harsh words like ' sit down and shut up' he was only a heartbeat away from putting a letter of reprimand in someone's jacket.
"Now, Detective, do I have your attention?" the captain asked with deceptive calm.
"Yes, Sir," Elliot replied respectfully.
"Good." The captain paused a moment, ordering his thoughts.
"I know this case is important to you, Elliot," he said. "And if it were an ordinary case, I wouldn't dream of pulling you off as the lead investigator, but with something like this, well, there are other factors to consider."
Elliot frowned. "Sir?"
"This guy is bound to get noticed by the press, and when he does, there will be questions to answer," Christian explained gently. "Why did it take us so long to spot the pattern? Why aren't our best detectives working on it? Why did I put a rookie in charge?"
Elliot dropped his gaze to the floor, seeing for the first time the political side of things.
"And God forbid he should go on for months and not get caught, then there will be serious fallout," the captain continued. "People will want a scapegoat. Who's to blame? Will he be punished? Worse yet, if the guy never gets caught, or if we catch him and can't get a conviction, why hasn't that cop been fired?
"Elliot, I can protect Alphonse if something like that happens. He has closed a lot of big cases over the years. He has a reputation that he can stand on, you don't. If I leave you as primary and things go badly, well, it will be a miracle if they only bust you back to patrol. I can guarantee you, if we don't put someone in jail for this, you'll be off the force.
"I know you're a good detective, Elliot, and when the time is right, I won't mind sticking my neck out for you, but it has to be a battle I have a chance of winning. This one, Son, it's a risk you don't want to take with your career. Do you understand?"
Elliot slowly looked up and met his captain's gaze. "Yes, Sir, I understand what you are saying, but . . . Isn't it my job to go after creeps like this? I didn't join this squad to have to watch my tail and duck and cover every time there might be some political fallout. I volunteered for this squad because there are a lot of perverts out there doing evil things to defenseless people and I want to stop them."
Leaning forward in his chair, Elliot continued earnestly, "Sir, you're talking about pulling me off as primary on this case under the assumption that I will fail and that you can't trust me to do my job. That tells me that you don't think I'm a very good detective, and if that's how you feel, maybe I don't belong here."
Elliot watched the older man carefully as he bowed his head, and he wondered whether the captain was thinking or praying about the situation. After a moment, Christian looked up and asked, "What were you planning to do next?"
"I need to put the information I have up on the board in the bull pen and address the squad."
Captain Christian nodded. "Go do that, then."
"Yes, Sir," Elliot said gratefully.
"But, Elliot," when the young man stopped and looked back at him, Bill added, "I haven't made my decision yet. I'll let you know by the end of the day whether it's you or Alphonse who will be running this one."
Elliot swallowed back a protest, knowing he had already said all there was to say and that the decision was up to the captain now. "Yes, Sir," he muttered, and left the office . . .
"Wild Bill wound up leavin' El as the lead investigator," Alphonse said, "against his better judgment, I think. At the time, I wished he had turned it over to another team of detectives entirely so we didn't have to deal with the press, but in the end, it didn't matter much. Elliot actually caught DeVane even before we knew we were lookin' for him, an' after what he went through to do it, he deserved all the recognition he got."
"What do you mean, he caught him before you knew you were looking for him, Alphonse?" Cragen asked.
"Well, like I said before, it was just dumb luck . . . "
1993
"If ya ask me . . . "
"I didn't," Elliot said stubbornly.
". . . ya should have told Wild Bill to give this dog to another team."
"What the hell for?" Elliot mumbled lest the captain hear his profanity.
"'Cause when the press gets a hold of this, they're gonna be all over the lead detective like flies on shit." Alphonse dropped his voice to a whisper, but the sharp consonants of the last word still carried into the captain's office and, like guilty schoolboys, they both tried to look busy when their CO looked up.
After a quiet moment, Alphonse asked sincerely, "You know I'm not a glory hound, right, El?"
"Yeah, I realize that, why?"
"Because I think ya should at least go in there an' tell him ya changed your mind an' ya want to let me take the lead on this one."
"Now, why would I do that?" Elliot asked, clearly irritated by the suggestion.
"'Cause ya know the captain is right, ya damned fool," Alphonse insisted. "If this blows up, your ass is fired, but if I'm the lead, all they can do is tear me a new one."
"It's not gonna blow up, Alphonse," Elliot said calmly. "I'm gonna close this case."
"Damn it, kid, use your head . . ."
"Stop it," Elliot cut in. "I know he's right. I know you're right. I also know I'm right. I'm gonna put this animal in a cage, and you can either help me do it or stay out of my way. Either way, I won't hold a grudge, but I'm not running from trouble."
Alphonse quietly fumed for a few moments, then he asked, "Ok, what's next?"
Elliot grinned gratefully to his partner. "Well, I have people out re-canvassing the scenes of the other abductions right now, and I have an appointment with the parents of Elise Neubauer Sunday evening as soon as we start our shift, and then I'm going to meet Cecilia Rojas' mother after that. I'd like you to come along. I figure by the time we finish with Mrs. Rojas, it will be too late to go anywhere else to work the case, so we can come back here and try to figure out what these girls have in common. Why did he pick them? How did he find them? Tuesday I have appointments with the Hennes, the Carmichaels, and the Washingtons, and then I think we need to go back and talk to Suzie Liu and her parents again."
Alphonse nodded, knowing he wouldn't have done anything differently. At least the kid was on top of things. "An' what do ya have planned for this weekend?" he asked.
"Man, since I told Kathy I'll be working nights, she has started planning my days," Elliot complained with a laugh. "I think she forgot that I need to sleep sometime. Tomorrow I'm supposed to weed the flowerbeds and clean the gutters in the morning before it gets too hot, then in the afternoon I have to get an old bed out of her mother's attic and set it up in our guestroom. I don't even know why we need a guest room. In nine years of marriage, we've never had an out of town guest spend the night!"
"Tell me about it!" Alphonse commiserated. "Francine wants me to help her rearrange the livin' room tomorrow, because she's 'bored with it'. Why do women insist on changin' things just to make them different?"
"Hey, man, if I knew the answer to that . . . "
"You probably wouldn't have married one," Alphonse interjected.
"Yeah, I think you're right, but what would I do without her?"
"Starve, an' pay someone to do your laundry?"
They shared a laugh as they got their stuff out of their lockers and headed down the stairs. "At least I get to have some fun on Sunday," Elliot said. "After mass, Kathy wants to take the girls to the Children's Museum of Manhattan."
"Ya mean you're comin' back into the city for fun? On the Fourth of July? Are ya outta your mind?"
"Hey, I'll be spending the day with my wife and kids," Elliot said, his whole face lighting up. "I don't care where we are."
"Oh, man, those two girls have got ya wrapped around their tiny little fingers, don't they?" Alphonse teased. "I'll bet Kathy has to handle all of the discipline because you're such a softie."
"I suppose you're right," Elliot said with a delighted grin, "but ask me if I care."
"Ya know," Alphonse said thoughtfully as he and Elliot unlocked their cars, "Francine an' I are keepin' Jeanie, for a week while Lois an' my idiot son-in-law go on a 'romantic cruise' in the Caribbean to celebrate their fifth weddin' anniversary. Who the hell looks for romance in the Caribbean durin' hurricane season, I don't know, but I'll bet Jeanie would enjoy the museum. Would it be all right if we tagged along?"
Elliot shrugged. "Have Francine call Kathy. Maybe they can work it out."
"Yeah, an' who knows," Alphonse suggested "maybe those two can entertain each other an' we won't have to spend our days at home cleanin' gutters and movin' furniture!"
"Optimist!" Elliot chuckled, and climbed into his car for the long drive home.
"The next thing we knew, the girls had planned the whole day for us," Alphonse continued. "We were gonna meet at the museum after Elliot and Kathy took Maureen and Kathleen to mass, an' then, when it was time for us to go to work, the girls would take the kids home in one car, an' El an' I would ride to the station together in the other."
"Did you guys spend a lot of off-duty time together?" Olivia asked, wondering how her partner had changed over the years to separate his work and his home life so completely.
"Four or five times a year," Alphonse replied. "His birthday, my birthday, Fourth of July, New Years Eve, Memorial Day, or Labor Day, if they didn't have plans with Kathy's folks. Elliot's mom was alive then, but they didn't do much with her. I always got the feelin' there was a story there that he didn't want to tell, so I never asked him. I know when she had her stroke, he took a couple of days off to sit with her in the hospital. Then she died, an' he was back at work the day after the funeral lookin' like he'd been dragged through hell backwards an' tryin' to act like nothin' had happened. Wild Bill took him out to lunch that day, which I thought was odd, an' when they came back, Elliot looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. I always wondered what the captain had said to him, an' I suppose I could have asked about it then, but I figured Elliot would tell me if he ever wanted me to know."
"Family is a complicated thing," Olivia agreed, "and it's always hard to ask someone else about theirs when they never mention it."
There was a brief silence, and wanting to nudge things along, Olivia asked, "So, what happened at the museum? That's where you caught DeVane, isn't it?"
"No, that's where Elliot caught DeVane," Alphonse corrected. "I just sort of sat on my ass an' talked into the telephone.
"It was the middle of July, hottest damned day of the hottest freakin' week of the year. For days, it had gotten into the hundreds an' stayed in the eighties an' nineties at night. Ya couldn't step outside without breakin' a sweat, an' it was so humid the air was thick, one of those days when all ya wanna do is call in sick an' sit home in front of the AC . . .
1993
"If they call us out into this heat tonight, I think I might just shoot somebody," Alphonse muttered as he took out a big white handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. He was a heavyset Italian man, and no sooner had he wiped his face dry than the olive skin was beaded with drops of sweat again.
"Then at least be sure you kill them," Elliot mumbled back as he moved his work clothes into Alphonse's car. "The ER is gonna be jammed with heat emergencies, second and third degree sunburns, fireworks injuries, and drunks, and I don't want to have to sit there with a wounded perp all night."
The Stabler family's station wagon was larger than the Bennetto's Chevy Cavalier convertible, so Kathy, Francine, and the kids would be taking it to the pool and then home when Elliot and Alphonse left for work later that afternoon.
"What are you two doin' back there?" Francine called. "The kids are ready!"
"We're comin', Frannie," Alphonse shouted. "You girls go on ahead, an' get out of the heat." His wife hated being called Frannie, and he knew that was all it would take to get rid of her.
"Damn, what I wouldn't give for a cold beer, a bowl of chips, an' a football game," Alphonse groaned, stretching his sore muscles as Elliot transferred little Jeanie's car seat from the Cavalier to the station wagon. "When I woke up this mornin' I could hardly move. Francine had me move the sleeper sofa three times before she told me to put it back where it was to begin with."
"Oh, quit complaining, and let's go," Elliot said, eager to catch up with his wife and kids. "At least it's air conditioned inside, and if they have a snack bar, I'll buy you a soda." He slammed the car door, walked around the vehicle trying all the handles to be sure it was locked, and started walking away, leaving Alphonse no choice but to grab his camera and follow.
"Ahhh," Alphonse sighed in relief as he sat down on a bench in the air-conditioned central hall of the museum. The main exhibit was entitled "The Body Human" and the massive space was dominated by a three-story tall, fiberglass model of a human heart that giggling, excited children and their harried parents could explore.
He heard a familiar, delighted squeal, and, looking up, he saw Jeanie, peeking out of the pulmonary artery, Francine and Kathy Stabler holding her up so she could see. "Gampaw, 'ookit meee," she called. "Come pay!"
He stood up and said, "You just have fun, Honey, an' Grandpa will take lots of pictures, ok?"
"Kayyyy. Take one now!"
He did, and she giggled and waved and then disappeared back inside the heart.
Just then, he heard childish shrieks of mock terror, and, looking in the direction of the sound, he saw Maureen and Kathleen Stabler come tumbling from the inferior vena cava with Elliot hurtling out right behind them, crawling along on all fours faster than Alphonse would have thought possible for a grown man to do. The two girls pounced on their dad before he could get to his feet, and in defense, he grabbed Kathleen and started tickling her. When Kathleen screamed to her sister for help, Maureen, who apparently knew where her father's ticklish spot was, came to her rescue.
Alphonse laughed at the sight of his partner allowing himself to be wrestled to the ground by two little girls, and then groaned. He had never felt so old in his life. The shape his back was in, if he had been doing that with Jeanie, he never would have been able to get off the floor. Moving the sleeper sofa yesterday had made him feel every one of his fifty-two years and then some.
Shaking his head, trying to cast off the gloomy feeling, he snapped a couple of shots of Elliot and the girls tussling. He was a decent amateur photographer, and the thought occurred to him that a few nicely framed photos of Elliot with his kids would make a perfect little Christmas gift for his partner, the devoted family man, come December.
Elliot abruptly ended the wrestling match by wrapping one arm around each of the girls and lugging them off like a couple of sacks of potatoes to clear the way for other museum visitors to exit the heart. They wandered about the exhibition hall for a while, Elliot reading and explaining some of the small signs to the girls, until he spotted Kathy, Francine, and Jeanie coming out of the heart. With a gesture, he directed the girls toward their mother, and then, keeping an eye on them as he walked, he came over to speak to his partner.
Still grinning and acting casual, he rolled his eyes and jerked his head in the direction of a man in a baseball cap and blue shirt. "Keep an eye on the Yankees hat, Alphonse," he said quietly. "Something's not right about him. He's been following that girl in the rainbow-striped shirt since we got here, and she doesn't even know he exists. I'm gonna find museum security."
"She's probably just havin' a really good time," Alphonse suggested, "an' she's forgotten all about dear old Dad."
"Uh-uh. She's with a church group. They all have those red wristbands, and every so often, one of the leaders calls for attention and they all hold up their hands with the bands around them and do a head count, or I guess it's a hand count, but he's not with them. Also, he's passed right in front of her a couple of times, and she has looked straight through him. If she knew him, she would at least acknowledge him." As he walked away, Elliot said, "Just keep your eyes open, and look out for Kathy and the girls, too, ok?"
"Yeah, all right," Alphonse called to him, "Just don't get ahead of yourself an' do somethin' embarrassin', ok?"
Elliot waved him off and set out in search of the museum security.
While he waited for his partner, Alphonse watched the man in the Yankees cap carefully, and to his dismay, he found that Elliot was right. The guy was stalking a girl of about twelve years old. A couple of times, as she stopped to read the signs that described different parts of the exhibit, the creep would get close enough to read over her shoulder, and he would appear to inhale her scent or 'accidentally' brush his fingers against the girl's chestnut brown hair. It was all Alphonse could do to resist the urge to walk over and bust the pervert then and there, but so far, he had done nothing illegal, just creepy.
Soon Elliot returned. "Well, what do you think?"
"You're right, he's stalkin' her. What do you wanna do?"
"Security is watching him from the video surveillance room. As soon as they can get an image of his face, they have someone who will take it to the nearest precinct and try to get started on an ID," Elliot said. "And once I identified myself as an off-duty cop, they gave us a couple of their radios so we can keep tabs on him if he gets out of camera range."
Elliot discretely handed off one of the small walkie-talkies to Alphonse, and said, "I think we ought to keep an eye on him, and as soon as he does anything remotely questionable, we ask him for ID and then run it for outstanding warrants."
"Ok, an' what about the girls?"
The two detectives exchanged a mortified look, and decided to do rock-paper-scissors, to decide who told their wives that work had found them on their day off.
"I lost," Alphonse said, "I swear we were both more afraid of our wives than we were of anything that might have happened while we were trying to stop that guy."
"I don't suppose they were too happy, were they?" Don asked.
"Are you kiddin'? Francine would have slapped me if we hadn't been in a public place. Kathy just huffed a little, took the girls by their hands, an' stomped off. I almost felt sorry for Elliot," he said. "Francine could get real mad, but she always got over it. Kathy can hold a grudge."
"So, the guy was DeVane?" Olivia asked, "Was the little girl Muriel Faringo?"
"Yes, an' yes," Alphonse replied. "An' what happened that day, I've never seen nothin' like it before or since."
1993
Kids were playing and screaming and just having a great time, exactly the way they were supposed to at the Children's Museum of Manhattan, and with the exception of two off-duty detectives and their wives, so were most of the parents. Alphonse and Elliot were taking turns watching the stalker and their own families with Elliot spending most of the time tailing the stalker because with his sore back, Alphonse wasn't sure he would be able to keep up with the guy if he decided to do something to the child and run. Every time Elliot caught Kathy's eye, she would narrow her gaze at him and then pointedly turn away. Whenever Francine got a look at Alphonse, she would stick out her tongue. They had suggested that their husbands leave the matter in the hands of the museum security, but Alphonse had explained that the kids who worked for the museum had neither the training nor the experience to do this type of surveillance, and they certainly didn't have the authority to take any action if something criminal did take place.
The little girl was a curious child, and it wasn't long before she got left behind at an exhibit that had particularly captured her interest. A few minutes later, she rounded a corner near a stairwell, and found herself all alone. The next thing she knew, a hand wrapped around her face, clamped over her mouth, and a voice said, "Don't scream and don't fight. Come with me or, I swear to God, I'll break your neck."
All the terrified child could do was comply, and when the man dragged her into the stairwell and down to the street, she went along without a struggle.
"Stop! Police!" the shout came from above.
The girl tried to obey, but her abductor smashed a fist into the side of her head and everything went dark.
"He grabbed her, at the southeast stairwell on the third floor," Elliot spoke into his radio as he scrambled down the stairs. "I am in pursuit on foot. Call 911, and Alphonse, round up the girls, ok?"
"Will do," came the reply.
"He just threw her into an older model green Dodge Caravan. Plates are dirty, can't get the number. Continuing foot pursuit. North on Amsterdam."
By this time, Alphonse was on the phone in the security office relaying Elliot's information to the dispatcher, who was then broadcasting it to the area patrol cars.
"He's at the light on West 84th, waiting to turn right."
Already, Elliot was feeling the effects of the heat and humidity. He couldn't seem to take in enough oxygen to keep his muscles working. His limbs were burning and it felt like he was running through pea soup. Just as he caught up to the van, there was a break in traffic and it made a turn.
"Right onto West 84th at Amsterdam, now heading east toward Columbus Avenue."
There was a pain in his side, and his heart pounded with the effort of running in the heat, but he knew, with traffic what it was in the middle of the day, it could be several minutes until a patrol car caught up to the van. Until then, he had to keep going.
"Elliot chased that van on foot for thirty blocks through midtown, holiday traffic in the hottest part of the day on the hottest damned day of the year," Alphonse said with admiration in his voice, "an' he never once lost sight of it. Hell of it was, after all that runnin', the chase ended in a bar not six blocks from where it started, an' Elliot didn't even get to make the arrest."
"Why not?" Olivia asked.
"'Cause he stopped to get the girl out of the van, an' everything went to hell from there."
1993
"Turning right . . . off West End Drive . . . onto West 81st . . . heading toward . . . Riverside."
Kathy sat beside Alphonse listening intently as her husband gasped out directions to relay to the patrol cars that were closing in, oh, so slowly, on his location. Francine had taken the girls to the snack bar for some ice cream.
Elliot had been following the van on foot for over twenty minutes. He was just able to keep it in sight because, with all the people coming into the city for the fireworks celebration, the streets were glutted, and everything was running slow. Unfortunately, that meant, even with lights and sirens, the cruisers couldn't make much headway either. The excited atmosphere in the security office at the beginning of the chase was now somber and tense as it became clear to everyone that the man on the radio was about to collapse from exhaustion.
"Thank God . . . he's pulling over," Elliot's voice gasped out of the radio. "Halfway down the block . . . on the left . . . place called Lenny's . . . getting out . . . left the girl in the van . . . going into the bar . . . I hear the patrol car . . . I'm gonna get the girl."
Kathy fiddled with the hem of her shorts, clutching it like she would a rosary, and in the tense silence, she closed her eyes and began to pray. Meanwhile, a few blocks away, Elliot staggered toward the van, only marginally aware of the strange looks he was getting.
"Police," he said, taking out his wallet and flashing his ID. "Child in the van . . . has been abducted." It never occurred to him to ask for help or to tell people to move away, but human nature, the sense of altruism in some, and the desire for self-preservation in others, showed itself and some people followed him to assist while others cleared the area on the chance that violence might erupt.
Elliot's limbs felt like lead weights, he could hear the ocean rushing in his ears, and the world kept shifting colors from red to brown to gray. He kept going only because he knew that a child was still in danger. His hands were clumsy, and he couldn't get his wallet back in his pocket, so he dropped it. He didn't have much cash left and his credit cards were maxed out anyway. He was so intent on getting to that child that nothing else really mattered.
Approaching the van and looking in the window, he saw her unconscious on the passenger seat, an ugly bruise forming at her temple. He wanted to go into the bar and beat the hell out of the man who had hurt her, but he couldn't leave the child alone and unconscious in a vehicle in this heat. Looking around, he saw a pick up truck, and stumbling over to it, he found a toolbox in the bed. It was locked, but it was small enough for him to lift it by the handle and heavy enough to smash the window of the van. As he dragged it over the tailgate of the truck, it fell toward the ground almost toppling him over.
"Hey, Detective, it's all right, we'll get her out."
He heard the voices, but ignored them. He was on a mission. Reaching up, he placed the radio on the roof of the van, and then, tightly gripping the handle of the toolbox so he didn't drop it on the girl, he lifted it to shoulder height and heaved. Glass showered down on the child, and it occurred to him that he should have smashed the driver's side window. He lost his balance then, but gentle hands caught him and lowered him to the ground. Things happened around him, moving in slow motion, but he couldn't keep up with them.
A patrol officer pulled the child out of the van. She was dazed and crying, but seemed ok. He flopped back on the sidewalk, throwing his arms over his head, oblivious to the heat of the pavement burning him through his shirt, and tried to catch his breath, but it seemed he couldn't breathe deeply enough. He saw the man in the Yankees cap come out of the bar in cuffs, escorted by a patrolman. Then people were lifting him up, compelling him to stagger into the bar. When he couldn't move his legs, they dragged him. He wanted to tell them to just leave him alone, but he couldn't get his wind.
He didn't understand what they were doing to him, and when a woman started pulling his shirt off, he shoved her away. It was like some bizarre dream, and he wasn't sure now whether the girl, her stalker, the afternoon at the museum, any of it, had been real. A cop in a blue uniform got in his face and started jabbering at him as the woman pulled at his shirt again, and that made him angry. He swung, his fist making satisfying contact with the young man's mouth, but he was losing his coordination and they had him outnumbered. Before he knew it, they had stripped him down and forced him onto the cold floor. Terrified, not understanding why they were doing these things to him, all he could do was struggle and hope someone would come rescue him soon.
"Two patrol cars got there just as Elliot collapsed," Alphonse said. "A pair of uni's stayed with him an' Muriel, an' called an ambulance while the others went in and busted DeVane. Of course, some of the bar patrons followed them out to the patrol car 'cause they were curious, an' El was lucky one of them was a nurse. She recognized the symptoms of heat stroke right away, an' by the time Kathy an' I got there, she'd got some people to move him inside. They had him in a back room under the air conditioner, stripped naked, wrapped in a wet tablecloth, his neck, armpits, an' groin packed in ice, with a fan blowin' on him. The doctors at the ER said that is what probably saved his life.
"When we walked in, he was freakin' out. Didn't know where he was, how he'd got there, nothin'. He was fightin' the nurse an' the bartender, who were trying to help him, which I imagine was just makin' things worse 'cause the strugglin' had to be heatin' him up even more. He had completely lost it. He was hyperventilatin', panickin', an' he had already socked one of the officers in the mouth. The other one was tryin' like hell to restrain him an' not havin' a lot of luck.
"Well, I just stood there lookin' stupid, I'd had the same first aid trainin' all cops do, but that was it, an' I didn't really know what to do to help, but Kathy, now, she was magnificent . . .
1993
Kathy could hear her husband cursing and complaining as he struggled to breathe. She could tell he was frightened and not right in the head, but with Alphonse's broad back blocking her view, that was all she knew. Once they were fully into the room, she stepped around the big man and realized immediately what she needed to do.
Crossing the room, she took her husband's head in her hands and forced him to look her in the eye. Only when she had his full attention, did she begin to speak.
"It's ok, El, you're safe."
"Kathy? The girl?"
"It's ok. You saved her. She's fine now, and the officers arrested the man who took her."
"What . . . happened? Where . . . am I?"
"You're safe, El, but you're sick from the heat and you have to let these people take care of you, ok?"
Amazingly, it only took about ten seconds for him to settle down. "Stay here?" he pleaded.
"I will. Now you just be still and let these people do what they have to and I won't go anywhere."
"I need you to roll on your side, Elliot, in case you get sick," the nurse said.
As if her words had made it happen, Elliot turned over and vomited. He began to panic again, but Kathy put a hand on his arm and said, "It's ok, El. Just relax."
He nodded, and on their advice, he did his best to take deep, slow breaths, but he couldn't get enough air, no matter what he did, and even lying down, he felt dizzy. A few minutes later, the paramedics arrived. They started an IV, and put him on oxygen and a heart monitor. He heard some conversation, but none of it made sense to him, then he felt them pushing away the wet fabric at his backside. He felt something cold sliding into him there, and he whimpered and tried to squirm away from it, but Kathy reassured him.
"Shhhhh. It's ok, El, they have to check your temperature, that's all. Let them do what they have to, and they'll take good care of you."
"One-oh-six point four," a voice said quietly. "We have to get him stabilized and to an ER now."
He locked his gaze on his wife, and she never took her eyes off him. She continued to soothe him and wipe his face with a cool, wet cloth as the paramedics did their job. When he got sick again, they gave him a bag to puke in, and when he started seizing, they gave him an anticonvulsant and put a breathing tube down his throat. It was a terrifying experience for him, because he still didn't comprehend what had happened, but as long as Kathy was there to tell him it was ok, he would go along with whatever they needed to do.
"It was amazin' to see," Alphonse said thoughtfully. "He trusted her to take care of him when he didn't understand what was goin' on. I mean, I have known people who really love each other, who are made for each other, but these two, they had somethin' you only ever get to share with one person in your entire life if you're lucky. I've never seen anythin' like it since then.
"They kept him in the hospital for almost two weeks, the first five days in ICU. He was on a respirator for a little while, an' about three days in, he got jaundice because the heat stroke had damaged his liver. They were worried about his kidneys, too, an' for a while, they thought there might have been some brain damage. His temperature kept fluctuatin' while he was in ICU, so they monitored it continuously, which really pissed him off because of where they put the probe to do it. I remember him bitchin' about that, an' it kind of embarrassed me, because, I mean, what do you say to a guy when he complains about that, y'know? I just figured he wasn't in his right mind yet, because he never would have mentioned it if he was."
Olivia and Cragen exchanged a glance when they realized exactly what Alphonse was talking about, and it was clear that both of them wished he had omitted that detail from his story. Don couldn't suppress a shudder, and Olivia knew she was blushing. Alphonse blithely continued his tale.
"Poor Kathy was a wreck whenever she was alone or just around Francine an' me, but when she was with Elliot or the girls, she was a champ. Of course, it didn't help that she was in a delicate condition at the time."
"You mean she was pregnant? With the twins?"
"She had just found out," Alphonse said. "Elliot still doesn't know that she told me before she told him, so don't ever mention it, ok?"
1993
"Alphonse, thank you, for everything you did today. I'll be over early tomorrow to get the girls."
"Ahh, take your time," he told her. "Jeanie is havin' a blast with them. Take care of yourself an' come check on him first, then stop by for lunch."
Kathy sighed and nodded. "Thanks, I'll do that." As they were talking, she moved out into the hall, guiding Alphonse a little way down from Elliot's ICU room. She could still look through the window and see her sleeping husband, with tubes down his throat, in his arm, and up his nose, a catheter carrying waste away, and wires leading from various places to monitor his heart rate, temperature, and oxygen levels. She was grateful that, at least for tonight, the anticonvulsant they had given him would let him sleep, but she knew that for the next few days, he was going to be miserable and would need her there to comfort him.
"He's in bad shape, Alphonse," she said. "The doctors say he might get worse before he gets better . . . if he gets better."
"He's tough, Kathy. He'll pull through."
She nodded. "I need some advice."
Alphonse felt his heart begin to pound. He knew she was going to ask him a question that he couldn't answer, one he didn't even want to consider. He and Elliot had never discussed that sort of thing, both of them superstitious enough to think that talking about it could bring it into being. "Kathy, I'm sorry, we've never talked about what we wanted if we were . . . beyond help."
She shook her head. "It's all right," she said, "he and I have. I know what his wishes are about that. I don't want to have to carry them out, but I will if it comes down to it."
Alphonse breathed a sigh of relief, and asked, "Well, then, what did ya need to ask me?"
Kathy began to shake, and Alphonse moved her across the hall into the lounge where she could sit. He took a seat across from her, and she began to speak again. "I'm pregnant, Alphonse, and I haven't told him yet. I wanted to make it special . . . romantic. Mom was going to keep the girls for the night, and I was going to surprise him with breakfast in bed. But now . . . I don't want him to worry about it now. Whatever happens with his condition, we'll be ok, but if he . . . if I never get the chance . . . I don't want him to die without ever knowing that he's going to be a dad again, so when do I tell him, Alphonse?"
The older man gave it some thought and then said, "First of all, congratulations."
Kathy wiped at her tears and smiled. "Thank you."
"Now, ya need to think positive, Kathy. Ya have to believe he's gonna be fine."
"That's not easy to do when he's lying there so still like that," she said shakily.
"I know, but just keep tellin' yourself that he's restin', gettin' his strength back, an' gettin' better. Really try to believe it, for his sake."
She nodded. "Ok, but telling him. When do I do that?"
"Well, as long as he's holdin' his own, I wouldn't say anything until ya get him home, an' then do it just like ya planned."
"And what if he gets worse?"
Alphonse took a deep breath. He didn't want to think of that any more than she did, but he knew it was possible.
"If you're afraid you're gonna lose him, tell him," he advised, "an' then tell him that he doesn't have to worry. You'll be fine, Kathy, 'cause I give ya my word that Francine an' I will take care of all of ya for as long as ya need us."
Kathy smiled and sniffled. "Thank you, Alphonse. I know, if it comes to that, he will be grateful." Then her tears started again. "What if it happens when I'm not here?"
Alphonse couldn't help but smile, he could answer that question. He was sure he knew exactly what Elliot would say. "If it does happen that way, Kathy, then he'll be in a place where he'll not only know your expectin', but he'll know whether it'll be a boy or a girl, who it'll look like, what color hair an' eyes it'll have, what you'll name it, whether it'll suck its thumb, an' what it'll be when it grows up. He loves ya, Kathy, an' he lives for his kids. He's always gonna be there for all of ya, even from the other side."
Kathy swallowed hard, smiled, and nodded. "I know, but I'm still so afraid to lose him."
"That's ok, Sweetheart," Alphonse said, pulling the frightened woman into a hug. "I am, too."
"Everything straightened itself out eventually," Alphonse finished his story. "Once he left the hospital, Elliot spent about three weeks at home, an' he was on restricted duty for another two, maybe three, months after that. I remember he had to check his temperature a few times a day, an' they were really careful about how much exercise he was allowed to get until they were convinced he was recovered. I finished the paperwork on the case an' turned it over to the DA, but I listed Elliot as the lead investigator. He's the one who made the collar.
"Anyway, it was an open an' shut case. DeVane kept trophies," Alphonse said, finally getting back to the real reason for the call. "We found little girls' panties an' barrettes an' stuff in the van, an' every one of our victims picked him out of a lineup, so we never had to work out his pattern. Like I said, it was just plain dumb ass luck that we tripped over him on our day off.
"I wish I could help ya more, cause this is twice that bastard has been responsible for Elliot suffering. If there's anything else I can tell ya, just call me, anytime, an' I'll be glad to help. And tell the kid if he wants to talk, he knows where I am."
"Ok, Alphonse," Don replied, "and thanks."
"Yeah, sure thing. Hey, Olivia?"
"Yeah?"
"Just between you an' me, every cop has a partner he decides to retire from, one person he has worked with that is so good, that clicks so well with him, that he knows it can't ever be better. Elliot was that partner for me. He doesn't know it yet, but the way he talks, I know you are that partner for him. Take good care of my boy, ok?"
"I'll do my best, Alphonse," she told him with a smile, but she couldn't help wondering how often the two men talked and exactly what Elliot had said about her.