Chapter 3: Painting
The Special Victims Unit Squad Room was up and busy as always. Detectives bustled here and there, papers rustled, and the phones were ringing constantly. Suspects and witnesses were ushered here and there and occasionally someone crying could be heard as a killer or rapist confessed to hurting a family member or friend. Olivia Benson sat at her desk with a mass of papers strewn out in front of her. She was working on going over the reports and the rape kit that had been done on Payton Biscayne. She had discovered through reading these reports that this girl had definately been tortured. She had extensive wounds over her body, which included laserations with what the medical examiner believed to be a box-cutter. She also had extensive bruising all over her body. She had also been brutally raped; there was bruising in her pelvic area and traces of semen from a single indevidual. No human being should ever have to go through something like this.
"We got anything?" Elliot asked as he walked over to Olivia's desk.
"No leads yet, but as far as I can tell, the perp tortured her and raped her for two weeks while her mom sat at home half scarred to death." Olivia said.
Just as Elliot was about to reply, the phone on the corner of Olivia's desk rang, startling them both.
"Hello?" Olivia asked as she picked up the reciever.
There was a moment of silence before Olivia whipped out her small notepad and a pen.
"Okay, she lives where, now?" she asked, writng down something, "Okay, thanks."
She hung up the reciever and clicked her pen closed.
"That was the hospital. Payton Biscayne was released this morning." Olivia said, "I have her address; we need to go talk to her, see if she remembers anything."
"All right. Where does she live?" Elliot asked.
"A townhouse in Queens." Olivia answered, standing up and closing her notebook.
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Elliot and Olivia arrived at the Biscayne house in Queens and parked the car on the street in front of the house. It was a nice-sized townhouse with beautiful, rustic architecture and painted a burnt-orange color with peach-colored molding. There was a porch extending all the way across the front and about half way down the right side. They got out of the car and walked up to the green door and Elliot knocked on it loudly. Within seconds, the door opened and Monica Biscayne appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a red-plaid kitchen towel.
"Detectives." she said, sounding surprised, "I wasn't expecting you."
"We would like to talk to you and your daughter." Olivia said.
"Yes, of course. Please, come in." Monica said, stepping aside.
Olivia and elliot stepped inside and found themselves in the living room of the townhouse. The living room was a nice size and the walls were painted a lemonaid-yellow color. There was a plush, hot-pink couch on the wall to their right with a short, wooden coffee table in front of it. On the coffee table were a few magazines, two coasters, and a small flower arangement. On the wall to their left was a large, flat-screen TV with a small shelf below it, which contained a DVD player and several DVD's. Back from the TV was a staircase that lead up to a second floor. Behind the the stairs was a doorway which lead to a spare beroom. To the right of the door was a wide hallway that lead to the kitchen. The smell of cooking hamburger meat and spices wafted through the air and filled the whole house.
"Where's Payton?" Elliot asked.
"She's in her room." Monica answered, "Upstairs and down the hall, first door on the left."
Elliot nodded and walked up the stairs and followed Monica's instructions and knocked on the first door on the left side of the hallway.
"Come in." he heard a voice say.
Elliot opened the door and stepped inside. He took a quick survey of his surroundings. The room was a nice size, but the only piece of furniture in the room was a twin-sized bed and a beside table in the corner. There was also a wooden ladder a few feet to the side of the bed that was propped inside a hole in the ceiling. He wondered where everything else was; this was definately not the typical teen-age girl's bedroom. He saw Payton laying on her bed on her side with the blue-and-white plaid comforter drawn up over her. There was an open can of Coca-Cola and a half-eaten Mr. Goodbar on the bedside table.
"Hey, how you doing?" Elliot asked, walking over to the edge of her bed.
"Fine, I guess." Payton said.
"Mind if I sit down?" Elliot asked.
"No, go ahead." Payton said, sitting up and scooting over a little.
Elliot sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Payton do you remember anything about what happened to you?" Elliot asked.
"I'm starting to remember a little." Payton said, drawing her knees up a little.
"Yeah? What do you remember?" Elliot asked.
"I um.....I remember being so excited about going swimming with my friends. When my mom finally said I could go, I ran right up to my room and put on my swimsuit. I packed my swimbag and ran out the door to meet my friends at the pool. We spent most of the day swimming and playing and just having fun. A few minutes before six, we my friends' parents came to get them. They offered me a ride, but I said that I could walk. I watched them drive off and I started home. To get from the pool to the street, I had to walk throught this creepy alley between two buildings. I felt like someone was watching me, but I tried to just brush it off. I passed by this dumpster and someone--a man--grabbed me from behind and he put this cloth over my face....." Payton broke off, feeling her eyes starting to burn, "I tried to scream, but I couldn't. I felt light-headed and things just went dark. I'm-I'm sorry."
Payton just let the tears fall and she buried her face in her knees.
"Hey, hey." Elliot said, scooting over to sit beside her, "It's okay. It's okay."
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her back soothingly.
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Olivia sat on one of the three bar stools on one side of the island in the kitchen. Monica stood on the other side of the island, chopping an onion on her wooden cutting board. The smell of hamburger meat and spices filled the air, creating a pleasant aroma.
"What are you fixing?" Olivia asked, observing her.
"Lasangna." Monica answeed, "It's Payton's favorite. I thought since all this happened, she deserved a little something special."
"That's nice." Olivia said, "She's a nice girl."
Monica smiled and nodded, "It's a shame all this had to happen."
"Have you noticed anyone in the neighborhood paying any close attention to Payton lately?" Olivia asked.
"No. This is such a nice neighborhood; I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt her." Monica answered.
"Has she ever gotten in trouble at school?" Olivia asked.
"Only once." Monica said, "This older boy was making fun of her and she got mad and beat him up."
"She beat him up?" Olivia asked, surprised.
"Yes. She's stronger than she looks. She gets that from her father. He always told her to stand up for what you believe in." Monica said.
"Do you think she could be romantically involved with anyone?" Olivia asked.
"Goodness, no. I've taught her better than that." Monica answered, dumping the chopped onion in her mixing bowl.
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In Payton's room, her tears had, for the most part, subsided. Elliot decided to try and lighten the mood by changing the subject.
"This room is kinda empty. I mean, there's only a bed and a table in here; where's everything else?" he asked.
"In my loft." Payton answered.
"What loft?" Elliot asked.
"Want me to show you?" Payton asked, wiping her tears away.
"Sure." Elliot answered.
Payton climbed off the bed and walked over to the ladder on the other side of the room, "Follow me."
Elliot stood up and followed her up the ladder. When they reached the top, Elliot saw that they were in a whole other room, most likely an attic. The room was as long as the house, but a few feet not as wide. The large room had a layer of light blue carpet on the floor and the walls were painted white. A few feet up the walls, the walls took a sharp slant upward to match the shape of the roof. Sunlight poured in from two large windows on either end of the room. The white walls were decorated with band posters, digital photos, and stickers. On the other side of the room was a small entertainement center with shelves on either side of it and a large flat-screen TV, a DVD player, and a Play Station 2 on it. There were two small doors at the base of the entertainement center for storage. On top of the entertainement center was a large boom box with a stack of CD's on either side of it. A few feet in front of the entertainement center was a bean-bag chair and an array of plush pillows. In front of the window was a red electric guitar on a stand and a large, black amplifier set beside it. On the opposite wall as the entertainement center was an artist's desk with a large sketch pad, a Nikkon digital camera like some of the professionals use, and a range of other art tools on it. A few feet to his left was a wooden easle with a canvas on it. A wooden box set on the floor next to it, which contained her paints and brushes. On the other end of the room was a stack of storage boxes that housed her other belongings.
"This is a really nice loft you have here." Elliot said, looking around.
"Thanks. This is where I get all my inspiration." Payton said.
"Your mom said you like art." Elliot said.
"Oh, yes. Come here." Payton said, leading him over to the easle.
Elliot was stunned by the work of art on the canvas. On the canvas was an expertly-done painting of a wall of ocean waves coming right at you. There were two gray lines down the middle of the painting as it the viewer were looking through a window. The waves were an array of shades of blue and light blue and white adorned the tops of them.
"This is wonderful." Elliot said, marvelling at the painting.
"Thanks." Payton said, "I finished it this morning. I haven't showed it to my mom yet."
"What say we take down and show it to her now?" Elliot suggested.
Payton nodded and carefully picked up the painting, as it was still drying.
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Olivia watched as Monica deposited clumps of sour cream, cream cheese, cottage cheese, and spaggheti sauce into a mixing bowl and stirred it together.
"How's Payton been doing since you came home?" Olivia asked.
"She seems okay, but I know she's not." Monica answered.
"It's obvious why she's not all right, but how do you really know?" Olivia asked, curious.
"We came home around 6:30 this morning and she went straight to her loft. She sat up there and painted for hours. She loves to paint, but she only paints for hours on end when she's really upset or mad about something. She just emerses herself in her painting." Monica explained, "And it doesn't matter whether she's upset or not, she never lets me see that painting until it's completely finshed."
Just then, Payton and Elliot appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.
"Yes, baby?" Monica asked, looking at Payton.
"Payton has something to show you." Elliot said, gently nudging Payton forward.
Payton walked over to the side of the island where Monica stood and turned her canvas around, revealing her freshly-finished painting.
"Oh, that's wonderful, honey!" Monica said, smiling.
"Thank you. I finished it this morning after we came home." Payton said.
"You're quite an artist." Olivia said, looking at the painting.
"Thanks. I finished it this morning." Payton said.
"Why don't we go hang it in the living room?" Monica said.
Payton nodded; she always liked to display her works of art around the house.
"Excuse us." Monica said as she and Payton walked into the living room.
Olivia and Elliot exchanged a glance before walking into the living room.
"Mrs. Biscayne, I think we have all we need for right now; we have to be getting back to the squad room." Olivia said.
"All right." Monica nodded, looking over her shoulder.
As Elliot and Olivia left, they saw Payton and Monica hanging the newly-finished painting above the hot pink couch.
A/N: Well, there it is....FINALLY. And I would like to thank m3lode for all the great ideas she has given me! Thanks!