"This is a huge escalation," Amanda stared at the muted television screen. Every major news station in New York was covering Richard Wheatley's escape. "This doesn't make sense."

"Since when is he supposed to make sense?" Fin wondered aloud. Olivia Benson's team and Carisi were crowded around the bullpen.

"No, she's right. He's smarter than this," Olivia agreed. "Stabler said they were waiting for him to make a move, this might be it."

"One guard dead, and the other is conveniently missing or a hostage," Carisi noted.

"Or on Wheatley's payroll," Velasco added and Carisi nodded grimly.

"Maybe Stabler's jab at Ellery wasn't too far off."

"And Barba doesn't know where his client is?" Amanda asked Olivia. "I mean that's convenient."

"Barba's smarter than that too," Carisi stepped in before Olivia could say anything. "No way he's on the take for Wheatley."

"Coulda fooled me," Fin shrugged. "Nobody can get ahold of him either."

"Okay, let's stop with the gossip and the speculation," Olivia finally spoke up. "We work the case, just like we would any other."

"Yeah but Liv, this ain't our case," Fin reminded her. "It's Stabler's. Which, where the hell is he at?"

"Paying his contempt of court fine." Carisi came around behind Amanda and placed his hands on her shoulders. He rubbed them absentmindedly, his eyes drifting to the interrogation room they used for children. The three of them were engrossed in coloring an entire ream of pictures. Thank God most of this is goin' over their heads, he thought. "It might muddy the waters, but I came to you," he said finally. "We came to you because of a threat to our children," Carisi clarified. "That makes this Special Victims case, and the 8th floor can fight me."

"Nice to know you're not just sneaky in court," Fin said. "Liv, we get anything from Taylor at the crime lab yet?"

"The email is a dead end," Olivia said, pulling up an email from Mac on her phone. "All they can find is that it was pulled off a phone. They're working on the photos, looking for anything identifiable."

"Typical," Amanda muttered. "We know it's Wheatley, but his hands are completely clean."

"Let's start with this latest development," Olivia said. "Get the names of the officers on the prison transport and dig into their backgrounds, see if we can tie either one of them to Wheatley. Have TARU pull traffic cams, and see if they can't get a trace on Barba's phone."

"You don't think he's in on it, do you?" Carisi asked. The idea that his mentor might have crossed over and taken a seat on Wheatley's payroll made him sick to his stomach. He looked at Olivia, but she couldn't meet his eye. He knew she felt completely betrayed by him taking this case knowing what was involved. Amanda brought both hands up to cover his on her shoulders, playing with his wedding band.

"Hey, Danny?" Adam Ross rolled his chair across the tile to the station where Danny was poring over Jesse Rollins' photo. "I need a second opinion."

"Sure, man. I look at this any longer and I'm goin' cross –eyed." Danny followed Adam back over to the second station to the photo of Jacob Rodriguez, which had been blown up on the screen. "Watcha see?"

"Okay, there's a parking meter on the sidewalk next to the car," Adam said, pointing. "I can't tell if it's just sunlight or something else there but-"

"Oh, I see it!" Danny double clicked to zoom in further. "Nice job, Adam. That's not a sunlight reflection; that's the reflection of a white van. Look, you can just see the door handle. And," he added, pushing in a little farther, "I bet if we clean up that brown smudge there, we get a company logo." He gave Adam's head a pat. "Nice job, buddy."

"Hey I got my one job and I'm good at my one job," Adam said sarcastically, bringing the photo into a cleanup program.

"Only the one?" Danny teased him.

"Don't wanna oversell my skills." Adam grinned. He waved at Mac through the glass, beckoning him over. "Hey, Boss. Got something."

"You know, if you wanted to talk trial strategy, I didn't mind meeting you at Rikers," Rafael Barba sat in an overstuffed chair, acutely aware of the pistol pointed at the back of his head.

Richard Wheatley stood nursing a glass of scotch in the corner, one eye trained on the Atlantic Ocean. "I prefer meeting on my own terms, under my own conditions," he replied easily. "I'm not entirely a monster, Mr. Barba."

"Really," Rafael said dryly. "I had no clue." He adjusted his tie, slightly askew from being thrown into the back of a van earlier that day.

Wheatley chuckled. "I thought as my lawyer, you wanted me to tell you everything."

"Oh if it's not pertinent to your defense, I don't need to know." Wheatley shook the bottle of scotch at him, and Rafael shrugged. He watched Wheatley closely as he poured a couple fingers of it and handed Rafael the glass. "Best business meeting I've ever been to," he noted. "Or at least, the one with the best booze."

"I take care of my friends," Wheatley said.

"I'm sure you do." Barba took a sip. "So. Gonna tell me exactly what I'm doing here, or is that something I should've read in the terms and conditions?" His eyes drifted upward. "And…is this guy really necessary?"

Wheatley jerked his head, and the guy standing behind Barba stepped back. "Nah," Wheatley said. "We're just having a conversation."

"Little one-sided so far."

"You're an interesting man, Rafael Barba."

"Any more interesting and I'd be the spokesman for Dos Equis."

That elicited a genuine laugh from Wheatley. "You know, I wasn't sure at first when you offered to defend me, Mr. Barba," he said, "but you're making me pretty confident in that decision."

"So confident you had to kidnap me to talk strategy?" Barba swallowed another taste of the scotch.

Wheatley's expression darkened. "Just wondering how dedicated you are to my defense," he said. "You were awfully silent during cross-examination."

"You object too much, the jury thinks you have something to hide," Barba replied. "And you opened the door." He set the glass down on the side table. "If you hadn't let Stabler goad your ego into taking the stand, we'd be in better shape."

"You're the lawyer. Fix it."

Barba shook his head. "Everybody heard you threaten the ADA in open court. Nothing I can do about that." He leaned forward, sick of the game. "And if you touch Dominick Carisi or anyone else, I'll kill you myself."

Wheatley stared at him, then shook his head. "Here I was hoping that look of utter revulsion you got from Olivia Benson in court meant you'd severed ties." He threw his glass across the room. It shattered against the wall next to Barba.

He couldn't help it; he flinched. "Stabler's got his damn teeth in fucking everybody, doesn't he. I didn't know any better I swear he planned that meetup in the men's room before cross." Wheatley eyed Barba. "You know anything about that?"

"You mean do I know anything about possible collusion between the ADA and the man who wants your ass dead and buried?" Barba regained his composure, calmly crossing one foot over his knee. "Of course not." He tried not to let the previous mention of Olivia Benson or Carisi get under his skin or show on his face. Wheatley wasn't above threatening or worse to anyone, but, for the first time since he'd volunteered his services to Richard Wheatley, Barba was starting to sweat.

And secretly, he hoped that just maybe Olivia Benson still cared enough to know he was missing and track him down before Wheatley did more than kidnap him.