T Minus 3 Days, cont'd
Munch stood up, showing him the photos he'd pulled aside, explaining his reasoning that the guy, if it was the same guy, seemed to have popped up suddenly and had quite a lot in common with Olivia to be around her nearly as often in those two days as Elliot himself was. Elliot stared at the image, trying desperately to recognize what was too blurry to see. As Munch headed off to get TARU's help, Fin hung up the call that had come in just when Elliot had asked his question.
Fin looked up, delivering news that could easily go either way. "O'Halloran found a hair, root intact, on the tape. And there's a partial print on the edge of the envelope."
Elliot couldn't believe the break. Evidence. They actually had real, solid evidence. "Are they running the print against the ones on the dumpster?"
"Apparently it's a very partial print and could easily match hundreds of thousands of people, so it probably won't even do us any good with a suspect." Fin held up his hand before Elliot could argue. "I told him to compare it to Avery anyway."
Shaking his head, Elliot tried to stay calm. It was something. It would help. Sort of. If they had someone in custody. It could be used to rule people out, at least. "What about the hair?"
"DNA says it's female."
Elliot's brain couldn't comprehend it. There was no way Olivia had been bested in a fight by a woman. Not unless it was some kind of female body builder or something.
Fin continued, seeing Elliot's confusion. "They want a piece of Olivia's hair to compare it to. They're thinking maybe it's hers."
It was a considerable let down. Proving that Olivia was nearby when someone had stolen her gun wouldn't do a damn thing. "Olivia's DNA should be somewhere in the system. She used it to find Simon."
Nodding, Fin realized Elliot had completely misunderstood what the crime techs were suggesting. Not that he could blame him, since he'd missed it too. "They're going to check the partial against Olivia's prints."
Elliot looked even more confused. "They think someone made her send her gun in?" He shook his head, continuing to miss the point. "She knows my name. Why would send it to 'Detective Benson's partner?'"
Looking down, Fin issued the last part of the request. "They also want access to her home printer."
It was then that Elliot caught on, his head turning as his eyes narrowed. "What the fuck are you saying, Fin?"
"I'm not saying anything." He shook his head. "Besides the fact that O'Halloran and his buddies are a bunch of motherfuckers."
"They're not seriously suggesting that Olivia faked her own disappearance."
"Apparently that was their brilliant conclusion after finding the hair." Fin shook his head. "Guess that's why they're lab techs and not detectives, huh? Hey, where are you going?"
Elliot was halfway across the bullpen. "Olivia has a brush in her locker. They want to rule her out as suspect, fine. They need to hurry up and move on." Pure anger fueled him as he took the stairs two at a time, slammed through the door to the crib, and dialed her code into the lock. But as soon as he was facing her open locker, he froze. He'd been in it plenty of times for various reasons. He could even recall one time, about a month into their partnership, when he'd broken into it, convinced that he lack of need for sleep could only be drug-induced. Of course he'd found nothing damning and then had to buy her a new lock, only realizing as he handed it to her that doing so had given away that he'd been the one to bust the old lock in the first place.
But whatever his reasons had been in the past, he felt it was different. Olivia wasn't half-asleep in the car, waiting for him to grab her keys. Olivia wasn't in the emergency room, having begged him to get her an unstained shirt. Olivia wasn't celebrating a birthday, desperately needing the goofy gag gift she'd find just before she went home for the night. Olivia wasn't off working a case for the feds, unaware that her partner simply needed to touch something that belonged to her to convince himself she would come home. No, for all the reasons he'd been in there, he'd never been looking for a way to clear her name, to redeem her. Even when she'd been in Oregon, he'd never felt so cut off from her.
He picked up her brush, telling himself it wasn't pathetic to run his fingers over the disconnected pieces of her hair and wish they were attached. With a sigh, he pushed the whole thing into an evidence bag and tucked it into his pocket. He couldn't bring himself to walk away, not even having already achieved any legitimate goal. He reached into the darkness, his fingers brushing across her sweatshirt. Behind that, he found an old sweater. It was one she'd worn a lot several years earlier, but had eventually cast aside when a few holes appeared. She'd loved it so much, though, that she hadn't been able to throw it away, instead leaving it in her locker for one of those days when she needed a change of clothes. His fingers curled around the soft fabric, certain its baby soft feel had been the reason she loved it. He pulled it out, holding it to his face, inhaling deeply, taking in as much of her lingering scent as he could. He put it back quickly, afraid that, like her jacket, his cologne would quickly overpower her soft scent. He needed to know it was there, just in case he needed another fix of it.
His hand moved over the random collection of things on the shelf – some hand lotion, a single gold earring, a pair of gloves, a few envelopes. Curious, he pulled them out, recognizing the return addresses on all but one as having been victims she'd helped over the years. The last one, though, had no address. He checked over his shoulder before he carefully pulled the card free from the envelope. It was a Christmas card, featuring a teddy bear hugging a snowman on the cover, a cute, silly kid's card. He flipped the cover open, feeling his heart stop at the messy printing on the inside: Mery Crissmis Love Lizzie S. He had to smile at the innocence of the message from his youngest daughter and at the knowledge that Olivia had kept the card for so long. Lizzie's spelling had come a long way in ten years, as had the animosity that had grown in his kids who sometimes still thought Olivia had something to do with their parents divorce. But knowing Olivia the way he did, he realized she'd probably kept the card simply because it was the first one she'd received in a long time. He set it back on the shelf, closed her locker, and headed back downstairs.
He handed the bag with the hairbrush to a uniformed officer and sent him to go see O'Halloran. If he had to face the guy himself, he might wring his neck. He had no intention of retrieving Olivia's printer. He figured the hair would be enough to keep them busy for a while, especially when they checked and found that her prints didn't match the one on the envelope.
The thought of looking through more pictures made Elliot sick, so he turned to the fingerprint list. The techs had finished processing almost all the prints they'd found, but only about half the names had been searched in the system. He wasn't a big fan of what he normally would have considered busy work, although he knew a print on the dumpster where Olivia had been attacked might wind up being the best lead they had found yet.
About a half hour into searching, he'd crossed a few names off the list. His phone rang, distracting him with a name half entered in his computer. He made a mark below it to remember his place while he picked up the phone.
"Yeah, Stabler."
"Hi, Elliot, are you busy?" Munch's voice sounded playful.
Which was no less than incredibly unwelcome to Elliot's ears. "What the fuck do you want, John?"
"I was just wondering if you have a few minutes to join me."
Rolling his eyes, and then realizing unexpectedly that Olivia wasn't watching him and therefore wouldn't be amused, he took a moment to clear his head. "Seriously, what do you want?"
"Well, I'm down in TARU with those pictures I mentioned." He paused, lending a somewhat dramatic feel to his statement. "And there's something I find rather curious here."
Every muscle in Elliot's body tensed as he spoke. "What? What did you find? Is there something there?"
"Why don't you come down and have a look?"
Without bothering to say a word, either to Munch on the phone or Fin who was staring at him, Elliot tore out of the room. He was completely out of breath when he shoved through the door, not bothering to explain his zeal to the questioning eyes of others. He spotted Munch in the far corner and Elliot weaved through the maze of desks and equipment.
"What did you find?"
A tech he'd never seen smiled at him, taking the time to look him over. "Hi, I'm Melanie."
Munch's head was ducked down, borrowing Fin's pastime of staring at his shoes. Except he wasn't quite as skilled and Elliot could hear the hint of a snicker.
Normally, even if Olivia were there, Elliot would have smiled back, made small talk, possibly even attempted to flirt if he thought it might merit him a favor at a later date. The energy to do so was lacking, so instead he ignored it. "What did you find?"
Munch jumped back in as soon as he realized he wasn't going to have to put up with Elliot two-timing Olivia, even if it was only by flirting. "Melanie is excellent with computers. She's practically a magician." He picked up one of the pictures, showing Elliot the blurry shape in the background. "Observe, if you will, this indiscernible figure." He handed it to a laughing Melanie who placed it on her scanner and began clicking a series of keys.
They watched as the outline became bigger and bigger, each progressive enlargement making the shape more and more distorted. And then Melanie looked up at them, her hand poised over the mouse. "And voila!"
And suddenly, Elliot was staring at a life-sized image of Howie Druskin's face.
As soon as he managed to draw in a breath, his rage was boiling over. "Son of a bitch!"
Munch grinned. "I thought you might appreciate Melanie's fine technical display." Elliot was already walking away, ready to beat the shit out of Howie. "There's more."
With no further need for an impressive display, Melanie's flourish disappeared entirely. She pointed out one screen after another, always the original photo and then the zoom. It was always Howie. He was watching her, staying back where she might not notice him. But then Melanie brought up photographs of her and Elliot together. Elliot's presence, it seemed, wiped the dopey, attentive, eager look off Howie's face and replaced it with one of intense anger and hatred and loathing.
Munch looked at Elliot and shrugged. "It would appear that Howie doesn't approve of your relationship with Olivia."
Shocked that Munch would make such a public mention of what he'd agreed, for the meantime, to keep quiet, Elliot's mouth fell open. He didn't even notice the way Melanie looked up, quickly understanding what Elliot was upset about.
Realizing what Munch thought, he tried to point out what he'd meant, not caring that he didn't fool anyone. "I guess Howie wants to be Olivia's partner."
Elliot was pissed that Munch had said something stupid, yet again, that caused him embarrassment, yet again. He practically growled back. "I'm Olivia's partner." Stating the obvious was something he'd learned to do in fights with Olivia, when she frustrated him past the point of making any reliably intelligent arguments.
Melanie, who was well aware she was being ignored for the moment, couldn't keep out of it. "Lucky Olivia."
Elliot was too distracted by the whole situation to even realize that her comment was meant as a compliment. He pointed at the screen. "This guy Howie? Asshole kidnapped her four days ago and we can't find her. Doesn't seem so lucky now, does she?"
Melanie turned away, deciding it was pointless to argue with the man who had made it painfully obvious that he was not simply Olivia's partner. Munch tapped her on the shoulder. "We're going to need copies of these enlargements, please."
While they were waiting for the prints, Elliot called Cragen, informing him of their discovery. Elliot knew, had it been one day earlier, that Cragen would have read him the riot act over having missed something when he'd talked to Howie twice. He felt like reading it to himself. Olivia herself had mentioned not liking Howie. Munch hadn't liked him either. And Elliot, the biggest asshole of them all, hadn't seen anything harmful in the man at all.
But it wasn't really that his perceptions had been so inaccurate.
It wasn't even that he'd been so wrong.
It was that they might have gotten to Olivia two days sooner. If only he'd listened to her.
Elliot took the wheel, paying very little attention to his own physical safety as he took them to the library, weaving carelessly in and out of early rush hour traffic. No matter the speed, it took too long, and by the time he pulled up to the door, he'd had it. Recklessly parking the car half on the curb and half blocking another car, he darted toward the library door.
"Hold up, Elliot!" Munch gave chase, feeling very little besides imminent threats to his life merited running.
Elliot's eyes were furious as he spun on Munch. "What? You want me to be nice to him? He's got Liv! Who knows what he's done to her? We don't even know where she is!"
"Exactly." He held the door shut, insisting that Elliot listen. "He has her. We need him to tell us where she is."
"Oh, I'll get it out of him."
Munch had no doubt that Elliot was serious. "You can't kill him, Elliot. I'm not losing my pension because you have to beat someone to death while Olivia's not here to cover it up for you." He smiled. "I understand the urge. I was ready to go after you last night myself. But look, we don't have a warrant yet, so we need to get him down to the precinct without letting him know what we know."
Elliot swallowed hard, wishing he felt less determined to kill Howie. "Yeah, ok." He didn't really care what Munch was saying. He just wanted to get his hands on the fucker that had Olivia.
"No hitting." Munch's tone took on the edge it had when he was talking to kids and, unfortunately, got much the same result in an eye roll and a turned glance. "Once we get him back to the station, then you can scare him all you like, ok? Once it's Cragen's problem and not mine."
Elliot shook his head. "I cannot make any promises regarding what I'll do when I get my hands on the bastard that kidnapped Olivia."
"How the hell does Olivia put up with you?" Sighing, Munch opened the door.
With a grin, Elliot surged ahead of Munch. "Because I'm a good kisser." Without waiting for Munch's requisite horrified expression, Elliot waved at Angela as he passed through the metal detector.
They found Howie at the same table he'd been at when they'd talked to him two days earlier. Elliot was shaking with the urge to attack and he wisely held himself back, letting Munch take the lead. Munch settled down beside him, leaving Elliot to stand directly behind him. Elliot would be ready if Howie tried to run.
Mustering up the friendliest smile he could, Munch observed Howie's blank face. "Hey, Howie's, what's going on?"
Howie shrugged. "Nothing really."
"Looks like you're not reading as much today." Munch was referring to the presence of a single magazine where Howie had previously kept a stack. "All caught up?"
Howie nodded. "Yeah, sort of. I'm almost ready to go home."
Elliot couldn't resist, knowing Howie hadn't spotted him yet, knowing Howie didn't like him. He bent down, letting his face crowd in right next to Howie's ear as he spoke in a hiss. "And just where is home exactly?" Because if Howie was dumb enough to answer, Elliot had every intention of abandoning Munch and going after Olivia.
Howie jumped at Elliot's voice, nearly falling off his chair in an attempt to get away. "I didn't see you there."
Elliot smiled, well aware that his hard, cold stare conveyed his feelings adequately.
Howie's eyes widened and he turned back to Munch. "I'd love to help you guys out, but I really have to be getting home."
Elliot leaned in again. "Someone there waiting on you?"
Munch kicked Elliot in the shin behind Howie's chair so he wouldn't see the dispute between the partners. "Detective Stabler just likes to hear about kids. He loves kids." Munch knew his bullshit wouldn't fool anyone, except that Howie had seemed kind of stupid and always usually went out of his way to placate them, probably thinking it would throw them off his scent.
Shaking his head, Howie frowned at Elliot. "I – uh – no, no kids. I don't have much family."
"That's too bad, Howie." Munch put his hand on the back of Howie's chair, trying to keep him distracted by Elliot's intimidating glare. "You know, you were really helpful when we talked to you before." He waited for Howie to offer a tight, fake smile. "And Olivia told me how helpful you were when she talked to you." He saw Howie's smile become real, a deep, red blush coloring his cheeks. "Since you're ready to go home, can we offer you a ride?"
Howie bit his lip as he glanced at his hands. "Um, it's really ok. I like to walk."
Elliot was back in Howie's ear. "You live close by? How close?"
Munch kicked Elliot again. "He's fascinated by real estate too. He's got a lot of interests."
Howie smiled again. "I have a lot of interests too."
Nodding, Munch continued prodding Howie. "You guys probably have a lot in common, I bet." He decided he might as well go for it. "He thinks Olivia is pretty. What about you?"
Another, deeper blush covered Howie's face. "Yeah, she was very pretty."
"Was? What do you mean was?" Munch wasn't sure he was breathing. He knew his heart had stopped the moment Howie used the past tense to describe Olivia's beauty. When he finally dared look at Elliot, he saw the other man's face had paled, his jaw was hanging slack, his whole body shaking with unexpressed rage.
And then Elliot was spurred into action, no longer capable of playing nice. "We're giving you a ride, Howie. Get up." He grabbed Howie by the arm, physically pulling him to his feet.
Munch jumped up to assist as soon as he realized that for all his slumping and unassuming posture, Howie was taller than both of them and probably weighed twice what Munch did. Both Munch and Elliot realized simultaneously that Howie could put up a hell of a struggle if he wanted.
Munch tried to backpedal, smiling sickly at the bastard. "Really, you've been such a great help."
Howie, for all his size, didn't even seem to realize it. He was nervous, glancing between Elliot and Munch repeatedly. "I only saw her one time, you know. That's all I meant." He walked along with them even as he tried to talk his way out of it. "Really, I have to be getting home. I –uh- there's something – I need-"
Elliot's grip tightened as he yanked Howie into the stairwell. "You said you didn't have any kids. So who do you have to worry about? Huh? Somebody's waiting for you?"
Howie tried to shrug, except that the detectives had hold of his arms. "I –uh- well, I guess a ride would be nice if it's not out of your way."
The car, of course, headed for the precinct; Elliot's fierce driving shortening the ride considerable. Howie issued several protests, mentioning repeatedly that his place was in the other direction, but neither Munch nor Elliot responded. Elliot dragged Howie up the stairs, ignoring Howie's argument and Munch's request that they not injure Howie just yet.
Elliot practically threw Howie into the interrogation room. He didn't even wait for Munch to follow or for Cragen's direction. He knew how to work the room, knew how to get his way. He narrowed his eyes at Howie's surprised face. "Where the hell is she?"
Howie shook his head. "Who?"
Elliot squeezed his eyes closed and promised himself, and Olivia, that he wouldn't kill the man who held her. If only because they didn't know where he hid her. He glared at Howie again. "Olivia. Where the hell is Olivia?"
Howie's eyes moved around the room, appearing to search his memory for an answer. "I-uh- I don't know anyone named Olivia."
For just a moment, Elliot's eyes widened at Howie's audacity. The calm was short-lived, however, as Elliot lunged at Howie.
