"You know," Barba said conversationally, his eyes on Wheatley, "now that you've kidnapped the Manhattan DA and a prominent defense attorney-"

Carisi coughed.

"-I'm gonna have to recuse myself from your defense."

"Oh yeah, I get that," Wheatley agreed. "Conflict of interest."

"The biggest conflict there is." Barba leaned back in his chair. "I'm a big picture guy, Mr. Wheatley-"

"I think we've gotten to the point where you can call me Richard, Mr. Barba," Wheatley kept up the friendly façade, sliding into one of the barstools.

Barba chuckled dryly. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen. Anyway, big picture. You-and stop me if I mistake the details-you threaten the Manhattan DA's family, you kidnap two lawyers…" He shrugged. "I mean for a guy who does his best to weasel out of everything, this is fairly overt. Why the change?"

"Oh, he wants the whole city to know who's pullin' the strings," Carisi cut in. He glared at Wheatley. "Right? You're a smart guy, hell, you're the smartest guy in the room." Thank you, Amanda. "And you want everybody to know that you can do whatever you want to whoever you want."

"Ohhh…" Barba nodded as if this was a realization. "Right, right. No more hiding behind that good guy mask, you figure if everybody thinks you're the monster, then you're the monster. You want us to know you got to your son, to your wife. You killed Kathy Stabler." Barba crossed one knee over the other. "Anything I missed?"

Wheatley gave them both a slow clap. "I can see why you two are the top of the heap, Carisi with his high closure rate and you, Barba, with your high retainer. You've figured me out," he continued, slowly climbing off the stool and walking toward them. "Yeah, I did it all," he told them. He nodded to Carisi. "Sorry, didn't wanna give it all away in court."

"Woulda made my job a helluva lot easier," Carisi said. "I hate easy wins anyway."

Wheatley laughed. "You wanna know the best part, Counselor?" he asked Carisi. "I knew all it would take to get you really involved would be those pictures of your kids." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Look at Stabler. Guy's a bulldog. He wasn't gonna let up, so I had to knock him back a few."

"Yeah, except that plan backfired spectacularly," Carisi reminded him. "You turned him into a pit bull. You pulled the strings and he cut 'em. He wasn't gonna play your game anymore." He narrowed his eyes. "And neither are we. So let's cut the bullshit, Wheatley. Big picture," he said, tossing a glance at Barba. "What's the end game here?"

Wheatley shrugged. "Well, it's simple, really. The game is still on. We're just waiting on the rest of the players to show up." He reached behind his back, pulled a gun from his waistband. "They'll be along shortly."

He gestured for the two men to stand. Barba helped Carisi to his feet, and Wheatley guided them to one of the bedrooms in the back of the guest house. A man, Barba recognized as one of the men who'd dumped him in the back of the delivery van, was already in the room. Must've snuck in the patio while we were listening to Wheatley monologue. He was on his belly half in, half out from under the bed, but stood up when Wheatley pushed the two lawyers into the room.

"Everything good to go?" Wheatley asked him.

"All set."

"Perfect. These guys can go where, anywhere?"

"One sec." Wheatley's crony grinned, and disappeared through the sliding glass door that led onto the back patio overlooking the beach. He returned with two folded beach chairs. "Front row seats," he grinned.

Wheatley grinned at Carisi and Barba. "And I thought I had a flair for the dramatic." He waved the gun toward the chairs. "Have a seat, guys."

"There's the van." Stabler was out of the car before Fin could put it in park. The windows to O'Brien's were dark but the delivery truck was parked in the alley beside the storefront.

"Is he always like this?" Velasco asked as Fin pulled in sharply across the street.

Fin threw the unmarked into park. "You get used to it," he lied. "Come on, we better go cover his ass." He jogged across the street, Velasco on his heels, as Elliot threw open the back door of the van, gun aimed into the back, flashlight panning the empty space.

He played the beam over the floorboards. "I got cut zip ties," he noted. "Somebody was back here they didn't want gettin' away."

"Barba," Velasco guessed, and Fin nodded.

"Nothin' else." Elliot found the side door for the closed storefront and jiggled the handle. He stepped back and planted a boot just below the handle, splintering the old door.

Velasco glanced at Fin. "I'm gonna call CSU," he said, taking a few steps back toward the street.

Fin shook his head. New guy's not a complete idiot, he thought to himself. "Yeah, good plan," he told him. Stabler kicked the door in, and Fin sighed, following him inside in a cover position. "Stabler, we've got a warrant," he reminded him. "We don't need to raid the place."

"Who's raiding?" Elliot shot back. "That's how I normally open doors." He made his way into an office. "Got a computer….couple of addresses on sticky notes," he catalogued as he went.

Fin glanced at the sticky notes. "Addresses for the kids' schools," he said. "Wheatley's guys are gettin' sloppy." He followed Stabler out into the loading dock. His flashlight caught something, and he reached for a light switch, flooding the space. Elliot whirled, gun in hand, until he realized it had been Fin. Fin gave it a full minute before he figured Stabler wasn't gonna shoot him, and then he moved. "Take a look at this," he said, nodding to the workbench against the wall. He could see a car battery and some other random car parts from the trucks stacked near it, but that wasn't what had caught his attention. "Kitchen timer, wires, PVC pipe..."

"One of these things isn't like the other," Elliot agreed. "None of this belongs here. And these could all easily be used in a homemade bomb."

Amanda paced Olivia's office. It was nearly midnight but she was wide awake. Her kids and Jacob were crashed in the interview room, the stress and terror of the day finally taking its toll. She felt especially for Jacob. Sonny had only recently gotten custody of Jacob and for Jacob to see all of this so soon after was a big gut punch for the eight year old. I need Sonny to be okay. She hadn't prayed in a long time, but if He was listening….God please take care of Sonny tonight. Tell him we're coming. We're gonna bring him and Barba home. She wished he was here. If there was anyone that could talk her off the ledge, it was him, and right now, her rock was missing.

"Amanda."

She jumped at her name, turned to see Olivia slip inside. The two women looked at each other, and then Olivia threw her arms around Amanda and wrapped her in a hug as Amanda fell apart. "Hey. We're gonna get him," Olivia said, and Amanda knew she meant more than just Wheatley.

"I know," Amanda said into her shoulder. "I just…God, Sonny, I can't-"

"Arnold lawyered up, but Mac and Stella are good at their jobs," Olivia said. "They'll connect him to Wheatley and right to Carisi and-and Barba."

Amanda took a step back. "God, how are you doing?" she asked, brushing tears from her eyes. "I know how much Barba means to you, and don't even try to brush it off," she added. She laughed humorlessly. "I'm a profiler, and you're my best friend, you're not hiding that one from me."

Olivia shook her head. "I can't even think about him right now," she said. "I need to focus on this case."

"He is the case," Amanda said. "Or at least, he's part of it. You know, he only took Wheatley's defense to protect you," she added.

"Oh you know that? Did he tell you that?"

Amanda shook her head. "He didn't have to, Liv. Just like you don't have to tell me how worried you are."

"I'm not worried," Olivia countered. "I'm…"

Amanda raised an eyebrow, and Olivia shook her head. "He put himself in Wheatley's crosshairs for me?" she clarified with Amanda, and Amanda nodded. Olivia went around her desk and sat down, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. "Well," she said after a moment, "in that case…I'm worried."

Her phone rang, and she picked it up. Amanda watched Olivia's face pale, and her own heart sank.

"I've got your boots." Mac Taylor laid the footprint copy on the table in front of Arnold. Stella leaned against the window, waiting. "GSR on your hands from a recently-fired weapon," here he laid out a second report, "and testimony from Detective Rollins that ADA Carisi said it was you at the door right before someone started shooting and he disappeared."

"Don't forget the part where he ran from the scene," Stella reminded him.

"That too," Mac agreed. "Now I'm not gonna ask you any questions because you lawyered up, so I'll just keep thinking out loud here." He sat down, rolling his shirt sleeves up his forearms casually. "I think Richard Wheatley paid you to kidnap ADA Carisi. I think you sent the other officer away and took over the watch. The funny thing is, you could've easily made up a reason for him to go with you peacefully, but you decided to go in swinging, and I'm gonna bet that when we find Carisi, we're gonna find your DNA on his hands from where he fought back."

"Wheatley must have got you a little nervous, huh?" Stella asked. "You panicked, went in guns blazing. Didn't want to screw this up, so you took the hard way, didn't use your head."

"He left all that forensic evidence behind," Mac shrugged. "Sounds like a screw up to me."

"Ooh." Stella shook her head and tsked. "Yeah, Wheatley's not gonna like that when he gets wind of it. What'd you do, drop Carisi off somewhere and come back? Mac, I bet he dumped him somewhere and didn't bother to tell Wheatley it was done," Stella guessed. "That'll go over well." She looked Arnold in the eye. "Wheatley's not the kind to suffer a fool."

There was a knock on the door, and Mac and Stella both turned to see John Buchanan enter the room, looking none too thrilled that he'd been called in so late. "Talking to my client without his lawyer present?" Buchanan barked. "Taylor and Bonasera, you oughta know better."

Mac eyed Arnold, who, he noted with satisfaction, was starting to sweat. "Not talking," he said, standing slowly. "Just…thinking out loud." With that, he grabbed the crime scene evidence and slid it back into the folder under his arm. "Detective Benson'll be in touch," he called over his shoulder as he and Stella turned to go.

Stella's back foot had just crossed the threshold when they heard a "Wait" in a trembling voice.