Around three in the morning, Cragen arrived with Fin in tow, along with another person behind them. He stood against the wall in a cocky sort of way, and I could almost hear Munch's inaudible scoff as Cragen introduced him.
"This is Greg Johnson from Staten Island's police department. He'll be a part of the team until we get our numbers up, and another new person will be here in the morning," Cragen introduced. "We're off Olivia's case, mostly for personal reasons, but also because it's federal now."
"Any leads on his whereabouts?" John asked. Cragen and Fin shook their heads.
"The FBI cut me out of the loop hours ago," Fin replied. "But word from the news points to nothing."
"How's Olivia?" I asked. Cragen sighed heavily.
"She's looking at a lot of rehab and surgery because of this. Her legs are badly damaged, as is her face and hands. She has some other injuries as well, but she can't talk. The damaged skin has swelled, and the doctors are doing their best to treat her. She'll live for now, but she's not out of the woods."
"So why'd you come here at three in the morning?" John asked.
"We were up anyway," Fin whispered. "It looks like you two were too. I told you to go home."
"I've been content with sitting here," I replied. "But I'd consider some mindless paperwork to take me out of here, if there's any."
"There's actually three cases waiting for us, all being handled by others while all this has been going on. That's one for each of you. Handle your own, but don't go anywhere without a partner, at least until this prick gets caught," Cragen said sternly.
"What about me?" John smirked.
"You're going to stay right there," I replied, grabbing my coat and preparing to leave for the precinct. "Someone will come back later, but no food for you until you get better."
"I'm fine," he whispered.
Greg decided this was his moment to step in, and he moved closer to respond.
"It takes time to recover from a gunshot. Take it from me, the fact that you were even on the job days after being shot is a miracle."
"And how would you know this?" John asked coldly.
"That's what happened to my partner, or rather my former partner. He got shot in the leg and thought nothing of it. He did his time, then he went home to recover a few days sooner than he should have. Infection set in, but he ignored it. Now the neighborhood kids call him 'Hop Along Harry' because they had to amputate his leg."
"That's worst-case at its finest. Besides, you don't even know me," John spat.
Cragen and Fin tried to leave, but these two weren't going to stop. Greg attempted to be friendly though, moving closer with a smile.
"I know of your work, and I have to say you're an idol. You helped catch my uncle's murderer years ago, and I've always wanted to thank you. It's an honor to meet you, even if you are a grumpy bastard when you're faced with a little down time."
That didn't sit well with John, but he had no choice but to accept it because we left the hospital, but not before a quick check on Olivia. She looked awful, and I said a little prayer for her in my mind before we left.
My case was a school-based incident from bullying. Apparently New York law changed that year, making bullying victims special victims, meaning schools could file a formal action against bullies within local police precincts like ours.
I knew it would take interviewing to get the stories straight, which meant recruiting a partner. But Fin was buried in a domestic violence suit, and Cragen was nowhere to be found after our return and disbursement. That left me with Greg to ask, but he looked very busy. So I read through what little I had.
After two hours of review, I was ready to make my way to the school and interview the charging principal before school started. By now, Fin and Greg had left to interview their victims, leaving me alone, or so I thought.
"Monty, could I see you in my office a minute?" Cragen asked. I nodded, walking into his office as asked. Inside stood a woman, who shook my hand with a smile. "This is Detective Bonnie Wilson. She's from a unit in Philadelphia that handles similar cases. Wilson, you'll be with her today and help her with her case. And Monty, your techs will be directed by me. I received good reviews about your performance last night, so you will definitely be missed if anything comes up."
I thanked him and led Bonnie to John's desk, where I'd been working to appear apart of the group. I briefed her on the case, then we made our way to the school.
Once there, we immediately interviewed the principal. She set us up a private room afterwards, allowing us to interview everyone involved. There were nine victims total, all saying that an older, troubled student had bullied them over the internet. He apparently made sexual references as well, which made the job even more complicated.
After taking detailed statements from them, I had the suspected bully brought into the room. He sat down nonchalantly and put his feet on top of the table. Bonnie immediately moved them off, giving him a death stare in the process.
"Is there a problem, ladies?" he grinned.
"It's detectives to you, and yes, there is a problem," I replied sternly. "These are printouts from an online chat room. Are the highlighted lines from you?"
"Yeah, but I didn't mean anything by it," he replied. I nodded to Bonnie who brought the boy down, handcuffing him and reading him his rights. "What did I do wrong?"
"You broke a New York law, so you have to come with us," Bonnie replied. "We didn't have this law in Philadelphia, but they should. Stand up, we're going to the car."
"But I can explain!" he hissed. I stopped her from taking him out of the room.
"You have five minutes to explain yourself, then you're going to jail."
"I didn't write those things while sober, honest! I'll tell you where I keep my stash if you'll just let me go!"
"Stash of what?" Bonnie asked.
"Weed. It's legal now, isn't it? That's what Ray said."
"Who's Ray?" I questioned.
"My dealer. He said he smokes blunts in front of cops all the time but they never do anything to him."
"I've heard enough," I sighed, leading them outside. I gave a message to the principal to direct anymore statements to my office, then I drove Bonnie and our suspect back to the precinct.
Sure enough, the idiot gave up his stash and his dealer, and soon we were sorting through those details as well as going over statements from teachers who had witnessed other events of bullying or drug-controlled behavior. Because his drug charges would get him a month in detention anyway, we merely took the statements on the bullying to seal the case. Soon everything was processed and he was in juvie, giving Bonnie and me a free lunch break. We took it at a diner nearby.
"What's Philadelphia like?" I asked. She shrugged.
"I'd say it's the same as New York, but I've been watching the news. We have a smaller volume of regular cases that they do, but it's still a rough world. How long have you been in a special victims unit?"
"A few weeks," I replied. She smiled to me.
"Cragen mentioned there being two newbies, but I thought you were seasoned, especially with how well our interrogation went."
"I was with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation before transferring here, so I am seasoned with the interrogation aspect of things."
"I thought you looked familiar. I have an aunt who lives in Georgia, and she sends me newspaper clippings all the time. They showed you as being related to a victim, but also as aiding the New York leg of the investigation. I never thought it would be permanent."
"My old partner didn't either, but I needed a change. It just happened to come when this came up, so here I am. I like the position though, and Detective Munch has taught me so much."
"Cragen mentioned him, as did my aunt's clippings. How is he doing with his injuries?"
"He's recovering in the hospital, but he's not very happy with things. He'd rather be here, especially with all the high profile cases being splattered around the past few weeks. He just doesn't know what slowing down means I guess."
"Men are like that sometimes. My father is eighty and still runs a shoe store right outside of Philly. My mother has been on him for years to retire, but he just won't do it, at least not without a fight. Mom died last year, so now his sister and her daughter get to lecture him full time."
"My husband's father is the same, but he has a lot of people helping him, so it's not as bad."
"I read up on him online. He was a good man, and I'm sorry he had to go like that. Is he why you wanted into Special Victims?" she asked.
"A little. I knew going in that it wouldn't help him in any way, but I knew it would help people like me, and people like him, who need closure. I'm still seeking some myself, but it helps me rest easy to know that the I-rapist is dead, and he can never hurt another victim," I replied. She smiled softly.
"I'll toast to that."
Soon we were back at the office, where Fin and Greg had returned with nothing on their cases, so we joined them in their investigating.
But as the day passed, we found only a few clues for either case. By six, I was feeling the pressing exhaustion that came from days without good sleep. Cragen sent me home with Fin, who was very willing to drive me to Mercy to visit Olivia and John before heading back to the apartment.
Olivia was in surgery when we arrived, so we went up to John's room. He was asleep when we came in, but he was soon awake and talking to Fin about something I didn't understand.
I drifted off during this time. Apparently the men noticed, because when I woke up, there was a blanket over me and Fin was gone.
The clock read two when I checked it, and John was asleep nearby. I knew there was nowhere I needed to be, so I tucked myself in and went back to sleep.