Dr. Huang looked at each of the forensic photos closely before he taped them to the clear case board that had been wheeled into the conference room.  Normally this type of session would take place in the bullpen, but with a judge involved, discretion was a moral imperative.

 

When he was done, he stepped back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with one hand while he flipped through the case notes in the file.  He glanced up when the door opened and Alex entered, moving to stand next to Cragen at the back of the room while Olivia, Elliot, Munch and Fin were all seated around the conference room table.

 

“So,” He began.  “Here we have a victim in her mid thirties, average build, above average social standing and monetary means, who engages in aberrant personal behavior with homosexual tendencies.  Am I missing anything?”

 

Olivia cleared her throat.  “According to Serra Tate, the ex-lover, Samantha was also obsessive and controlling with some major father issues stemming from an affair that occurred prior to her mother’s death.”

 

“I see.”  Huang stepped closer to the board, allowing his fingers to trail over several of the X marks cut into the victim’s flesh as he leaned his head to one side.  “We’re looking at a serial offender.”

 

Olivia sighed in frustration.  “That was Warner’s take on the condition of the body too but we can’t find anything to substantiate it!”

 

He circled his hand over the photograph, drawing their attention to it.  “These cuts are meticulous, precise.  See how each one is exactly the same length and depth, one leg slightly longer?  These are the marks of a careful predator; one who is doing more than inflicting pain… he’s exacting punishment.”

 

“Punishment?  For what?”  Elliot’s forehead furrowed in confusion.

 

Huang didn’t answer; instead he looked Olivia up and down.  “You’re almost perfect.”

 

The detective’s eyebrow arched.  “Well gee, Doc… I like you too.”

 

The psychiatrist ignored the comment.  “Lay down on the floor.  On your back please.”

 

"I don't like you that much!"  Olivia joked, but did as she was told.

 

“Elliot!”  Huang beckoned him over.  “Kneel down beside her.”  When the two detectives were in the right positions, he continued.  “What happened to Samantha Wainscott was not only painful, but terrifying.  I find it doubtful that she merely laid there and allowed it to be done to her. There were no recent signs of restraints being used on the victim.  The markings on her wrists were several days old but there is bruising that appears to be more recent.  The perp couldn’t sit on her because his body would have blocked the area he wanted to cut.”  He looked at Elliot pointedly.  “If you had to subdue her, knowing those limitations, how would you do it?”

 

The big man looked down at his partner for a moment.  Then he took both of her wrists in his left hand, holding them over his head as he placed a knee firmly across her shins.  It was awkward, but it worked.  Olivia squirmed but couldn’t break free.

 

“Huh.”  Elliot blinked.  “Ok, so this tells us what?”

 

Huang pulled down one of the pictures that clearly depicted the cuts covering the victim’s thighs.  Turning it slightly, he angled it so that the perspective was the same as Elliot’s when he looked down at Olivia.

 

There was a collective in-taking of breath from around the room.

 

Viewed from the new angle, each of the longer cuts was pointing downward.

 

“Crosses.”  Olivia whispered as she climbed to her feet.  “That bastard cut crosses into her.”

 

Huang frowned.  “I’ve seen this type of thing before in other’s suffering from religious psychosis.  The belief is that the cuts allow the evil within the individual to be purged while exacting penance from the wicked.”  He shrugged.  “It isn’t something a first time offender would jump into.  These cuts, as I have said, are meticulous.  That takes practice.”

 

“So you’ve seen this M.O. before?”  Cragen’s voice was hopeful.

 

“Not this one.”  The diminutive man shook his head slowly.  “Usually this type of thing is done to the chest or genitals.  The ME’s report states that they chest was opened but that the skin was intact.  Your guy purposely avoided those areas.  I believe his intent was to rape Samantha Wainscott when he was done with her penance.  Mutilating those areas would have prevented that.”  He pointed to the photo showing the victim’s torso.  “All of this damage was done post mortem.”  He nodded quietly to himself.  “That’s rage.  I think Samantha struggled, causing the perp to cut too deeply, severing the femoral artery, which resulted in her death.  When he was denied the opportunity to complete his purification rite, he enraged, mutilating her corpse as a means of venting his anger.”

 

“What about her face?”  Munch asked quietly.  “What inner need does that fulfill for this psycho?”

 

“That’s a good question.  Shame, maybe? ” Huang shook his head.  “But that doesn’t fit with the sense of entitlement this guy feels.  Not only does he think he’s punishing his victims, he feels that he has the right to do so.  No, the face is something else.  Something…”  He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It’s an incongruous element.”

 

“Now is it just me, or wouldn’t you all think that Samantha would be screaming her head off through all that?”  Fin asked sarcastically.  “I don’t know about you, but personally, I’m of the opinion that pain hurts.”

 

“There was an ENC call.”  Elliot shook his head.  “If the neighbors were used to her ‘activities’, which I’m sure they would have to be after months of using that bench, then the call would have been more out of aggravation than concern.”

 

“Let’s get back to the MO.”  Cragen stepped closer to the board, his eyes hardening as he looked over the pictures.  “You said our guy is a serial offender, but we’ve been through every database we can access and we’ve got nothin’!  How do you explain that?”

 

Huang shrugged.  “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong place.”

 

Olivia’s head shot up, her eyes narrowing as they centered on the board in front of her.  Reaching out, she traced the damage done to Samantha’s face as she whispered, “Rage…”

 

Cragen blinked.  “Olivia?”

 

The detective’s laugh was short and bitter.  “We are looking in the wrong place.  We’ve been looking for bodies.  We should be looking for victims!”

 

Elliot shook his head.  “But even if the victim of a previous attack survived, the MO would still be in the database!”

 

“Unless your perp was a juvenile.”

 

Every head swiveled towards the back of the room where Alex was leaning up against a filing cabinet as she studied the case board intently. 

 

“Come again?”  Fin scowled at her.

 

“All records of juvenile offenses not involving homicide are sealed in the state of New York until such time as the perpetrator is released from incarceration.  At that time the records become available only to court officials handling the reintegration of the juvenile into society.  When the courts are satisfied that the rehabilitation statutes have been met, the records are destroyed or sealed permanently without ever being entered into the national databases.”  She arched one eyebrow at Olivia who was looking at her with a slightly stunned expression on her face.  “You wanted to know how this guy could have slipped through the cracks.  Well, that’s one sure-fire way. Your perp was a juvenile.”

 

“Hang on!”  Elliot raised his hand to interject.  “I’m six foot-two and I could barely manage that hold.  To be tried as a juvenile, we’re talking about a kid that had to be…what?  Twelve?  Thirteen on the outside?  No way could a kid that age manage this kind of attack.”

 

“If he is a previous offender he wouldn’t be a kid anymore, he would be an adult now.  And there’s no way for us to know what the ages and body types of his previous victims were without finding them.  They could have been juveniles as well.”

 

“There’s also another possible explanation.”  Huang tapped the autopsy photos.  “This kind of response to anger and frustration reflects serious psychotic issues including, but not limited to, obsessions and compulsions, tantrums, and impulsive behaviors.  Those are all symptoms of certain genetic disorders that can also include gigantism, a condition characterized by excessive growth and height significantly above average.  Children suffering from these disorders are often unable to control their reactions to outside stimuli.  They are truly at the mercy of their baser nature.”

 

Olivia looked at the ADA hopefully, inserting just a touch of personal into her gaze.

 

Alex looked scandalized.  “I can’t make a blanket request for juvenile records!  Any judge would take one look and see that for exactly what it is: a fishing expedition!  To even consider breaking a seal I would need the name of the original suspect and a tangible link to the current crime!”

 

“What about the… what did you call it?”  Fin looked at Huang expectantly.

 

“Gigantism.”

 

“Yeah, what about that?  Wouldn’t that count as a wild card?”

 

Alex rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath as she tried to hold onto her patience.  “What I need is a name and a victim with injuries consistent with Samantha Wainscott.  Then, maybe, I would stand a chance of getting juvenile records unsealed.”

 

Olivia sighed heavily, running both her hands through her hair before settling them on her hips.  “Okay, fine!  Then our next step is to find a victim.”  She chewed on the inside of her cheek.  “So… if our perp is attacking women in an effort to punish them, and his chosen method is to cut crosses into their flesh, then they would all have to be guilty of something he considered a sin, right?”

 

Huang smiled.  “Last I checked the bible didn’t say anything about bondage.”

 

“Nope.”  Elliot shook his head.  “But it’s got a plenty to say about homosexuality.”

 

Olivia tossed him a sideways look.

 

“Hey!”  He held his hands up defensively.  “I didn’t say I agreed with it, just that it was in there.”

 

Munch and Fin glanced at each other and then at Alex, who suddenly became fascinated with her shoes.

 

“So we contact support groups for the victims of hate crimes.”  Olivia said quickly, drawing the attention back to her.  “As well as all of the Gay and Lesbian Centers in the greater New York area.”  She nodded at Munch and Fin. “If we split those up between the four of us it should only take us, say… forever.”

 

“Start local.”  Cragen growled.  “And hope this creep didn’t wander.”

 

“Hang on a second.”  Huang stopped them all in their tracks as he looked at Olivia expectantly.  “Tell me about the father.”

 

The detective frowned, casting a quick glance at Alex and the Captain as she rethought the scathing words that were about to leave her mouth.  “Samuel Wainscott, district court judge, good reputation on the bench.  He was pretty torn up by both our initial notification of his daughter’s possible homicide and our verification of the body as hers.  Not very supportive of his daughter’s sexual orientation or her chosen lifestyle.”  She pursed her lips slightly, locking her eyes intently with the psychiatrist.  “And not very forthcoming about the family’s financial situation, either.”  She could feel the weight of the silence coming from Cragen and Alex like a physical force and squared her shoulders against it. 

 

Huang nodded.  “I got that from your reaction to what Hansen said about Samantha’s will.”

 

Olivia nodded.  “Samuel Wainscott told us he had no idea that his daughter had changed her will to leave everything to her ex-lover, Serra Tate.  Apparently that was a lie.”

 

“If you choose to believe Hansen over a New York State judge.”  Cragen’s voice was low.  “Why would Sam lie?  What would he have to gain?”

 

“Well…”  Munch pulled on his overcoat, his lip curling slightly in a sarcastic grin.  “That’s the one hundred and forty seven million dollar question, isn’t it?”

 

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Chapter Nine:  Momentum

Monday 04:36 PM

 

Elliot leaned in a little closer to the glass case, his forehead crinkling as he took in the myriad of rainbow stickers, pink triangle pins, and various t-shirts with slogans that ranged from ‘Hate Is Not A Family Value’ to ‘I’m not gay, but my girlfriend is…” Blinking, he shook his head slightly as his eyes settled on another shelf, this one full of what had to be every type of condom and dental dam currently in production.  “One-stop shopping.”  He whispered.  He put out his hand to push open the swinging doors to his left only to have Olivia step in front of him.

 

“Uhm…  no, you don’t really want to go in there, Elliot.”  She laughed as she took him by the shoulders and turned him around.  “Not if you want to be able to look me in the eyes for the rest of the day.”

 

He tried to peek over his shoulder as she led him away, finally giving up when they were on the other side of the room.  He leaned on the counter next to the register.  “What the hell is in there?”

 

Olivia’s eyebrow quirked as humor lit up her eyes.  “It’s called The Toy Shop for a reason, El.”

 

“Ahh.”  He nodded, absently glancing at the jewelry case that was built into the countertop.  He blinked in confusion as he studied one of the silver pieces, not quite able to make out what it was.  It looked like an oddly shaped flower or something, maybe an orchid, the petals curling outwards with a tiny pearl at the top…  “Oh my god!”  He straightened up quickly as his face flamed bright red.

 

Olivia took one look at the piece that had captured his attention and started laughing.  “Come on, partner!  Try to be a little more open minded!”

 

“Open minded?”  He wiped his hand over his eyes, like he was trying to drag the image from his mind.  “Trust me; this has nothing to do with the whole ‘gay’ thing!  If my daughter came home wearing a little silver penis around her neck I’d think she was nuts too!”

 

Olivia snickered at his choice of words but let it go.  She pointed at the case.  “What if it was one of those?”

 

Elliot glanced at her sharply.  “Something you know that I don’t?”

 

“No!”  She laughed.  “I just like to see that vein pop out of your forehead.”

 

“What are we doing here anyway?”  He growled.  “We’ve been to a dozen different support centers this afternoon with no luck, what do you think we’re going to find here?”

 

“Faith.”

 

He stared at her in bemusement.  “Faith?”

 

“Someone callin’ my name?”

 

Elliot turned to see an older woman, probably in her late fifties, with mid length red hair and bright green eyes step out from the back room.  She was tall, nearly six feet, and extremely well put together.  Definitely someone that would still turn heads wherever she went and there was something about the way she carried herself that made Elliot think of the women who starred in the old cop movies he watched as a kid.

 

“Olivia!”  Faith vaulted the counter to wrap the much smaller woman up in her arms.  “Jesus!  How long has it been?”  She released the detective, holding her by the arms as her eyes traveled up and down her body possessively. “My god woman!  And here I thought you looked good in your uniform!  Mmm mmm!  Black jeans, leather jacket and a badge!  Be still my heart!”  She glanced at Elliot quickly before tossing the brunette a sly wink.  “Not that you don’t look best in absolutely nothing at all…”

 

Olivia grinned and shook her head, wry amusement plain in her features as she kissed the older woman on the cheek.  “You never change.”

 

Faith wrapped one arm around the detective’s shoulder.  “Why mess with perfection honey?”

 

“Elliot,” She inclined her head towards the woman at her side. “Meet Faith Dufresne, transplanted Texan and all around bad seed.”

 

“Nice to meetcha.”  Faith pumped his hand firmly before grinning down at Olivia.  “You know the upside of being a sinner named Faith, darlin’?”

 

“Yup.  Nothing better than a joke that don’t need a punch line.”  Olivia mimicked the woman’s accent, earning a slap across her ass for her trouble.

 

“So what brings you to my little den of iniquity?”

 

The two detectives sobered immediately.  “We need your help.” 

 

Faith caught the change in her friend and let her arm drop.  She led them to the back room, pointing them both to chairs situated around her desk.  “What’s going on?”

 

“I looked for you at The Center downtown.” Olivia gratefully accepted a cup of coffee, waiting as she poured one for Elliot as well.  “They said you weren’t volunteering there anymore.  You were there for twenty years, Faith.  What happened?”

 

“Politics.”  The older woman shrugged, a slight note of bitterness creeping into her voice as she answered.  “They got funding from some conservative group that wanted to whitewash our more…shall we say ‘colorful’ side?  Apparently they don’t want the cause to seem quite so wrapped up in sex.”  She snorted.  “Did you ever hear anything more ridiculous?  Considering the only reason there is a cause is because of who we sleep with?”  She opened her desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of Irish whiskey.  After adding a generous shot to her own mug, she raised her eyebrows in question, nodding when the two detectives declined.  “Anyway, I guess my flame burned a bit too bright.  They told me I could stay if I sold the shop.  I told them they could take a flying fuck at a rolling jelly donut!”

 

Olivia shook her head.  “That’s crazy!”

 

“Nah!’  Faith sipped her coffee, smiling in appreciation.  “A minority group becoming intolerant of certain internal factions is just another step in social evolution.  Shows how far we’ve come, and indicates that maybe we overshot the mark a wee bit.”

 

Elliot blinked in surprise causing the two women to laugh.

 

“I may be a heathen Detective.”  Faith winked at him good-naturedly.  “But I am an educated heathen!”

 

“Faith has degree in philosophy from NYU.”  Olivia smiled.  “She just likes to play at being an ignorant redneck.”

 

“And Olivia likes to play with handcuffs.”  Green eyes flashed wickedly.  “Always has.”

 

“Okay!”  The brunette threw up her hands in surrender.  “You win!  I give!”

 

“Yes, I remember.”

 

Elliot laughed out loud as a deep red flush crept into his partner’s cheeks.

 

Olivia glared at her friend.  “Why didn’t you jump to another center?  Not all of them want to stifle the community.” 

 

Faith shrugged.  “I can do plenty from right where I’m at. And I get to do it my way.  I give money to victims groups, advocacy groups, and shelters.  I still help out whenever I can, just on a smaller scale.”  She set her mug down and met Olivia’s eyes.  “So what can I do to help you out?”

 

The detective sighed.  “I need some information about possible victims of a hate crime.  We’re between a rock and a hard place, Faith.  We don’t have a time period or even a general location, but I figured if it happened anywhere in New York you might have at least heard about it.”

 

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll see if this old brain can spit out any pertinent facts?”

 

Olivia reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a photo, hesitating for a moment before passing it across the desk.  The picture only showed the damage done to Samantha’s thighs, but it was still horrifying.  “It’s pretty bad…”

 

Faith opened her desk drawer and pulled out a pair of glasses, sliding them on before holding her hand out expectantly.  “I’ve worked with women who have been raped by their own father’s in an attempt to ‘fix’ them, Olivia.  I’ve had friends beaten and urinated on.  I’m sure I’ve seen worse.”

 

With a sigh, the detective handed her the photograph.  She felt her guts twist when Faith’s lips curled in anger, her normally easy going manner gone instantly.  “Where did you get this?”

 

“The victim was found in her apartment early last Wednesday.”

 

The older woman’s head shot up quickly.  “You mean this is recent?”

 

Olivia frowned.  “Yes why?”

 

“I was wrong; this is the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”  Faith laid the photo face down on her desk.  Taking off the glasses, she rubbed her fingers lightly at her temples.  “But it isn’t the first time I’ve seen it.”

 

Elliot leaned forwardly eagerly.  “You know a woman who was attacked like this?”

 

“Not a woman; three women, all of them lesbians.”  She sat back with a heavy sigh. 

 

“When did these attacks take place?”  Olivia pulled out her notebook.

 

“God, it must have been… ten or eleven years ago?  Jessie, the second one that creep grabbed, she was a regular at the center.  She managed to talk the other two into coming in for counseling once they caught the bastard.  None of them stayed very long, though.  It was hard for them to open up about what that butcher did to them and I never did find out much more about what happened.  For some reason a lot of the details didn’t make it into the papers.   Jessie stayed the longest, but last I heard she moved out of state.”

 

“Can you give me their names?”  She saw her friend begin to close down and hurried on.  “We need to contact these women, Faith.  They’re the only ones that can help us find this guy before he hurts somebody else.”

 

“Why don’t you talk to her?”  She pointed at the photo.

 

“She’s dead.”  Elliot met the older woman’s eyes.  “He’s escalating.”

 

Faith drew in a long breath.  “Jess listed herself as a contact for victim aide.  She wanted to help others who had gone through similar situations.  I can give you her information.  As for the other two…  If they want to disappear, it isn’t my place to help anyone find them.”

 

“Understood.”  Olivia watched as Faith opened a battered leather organizer, flipping through the pages until she found the information she wanted.  She quickly wrote down a name and a California phone number on a post-it note and handed it to the detective.

 

“She called last December to update her information.”  The red head drained the rest of her coffee.  “I hope it’s still good.”

 

“Well, even if it isn’t, we can probably track her down by her name.”  Olivia stood and went around the desk, leaning down to hug the older woman tightly.  “Thank you, Faith.”

 

“Anything for you, darlin’, you know that.”  The older woman grinned.  “How about we have dinner sometime next week?”

 

“Oh, uh…yeah.”  Olivia stammered.  “I’d really like that.  It’s just… well…”

 

Faith laughed out loud, waving her hand at Olivia in dismissal.  “Bring her with you.  Anyone who’s got Olivia Benson that tongue tied is someone I have to meet!”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

“So…”  Elliot smirked at his partner as they drove back to the precinct.  “You two seem close.”

 

Olivia brushed her hair off her forehead absently.  “If there’s something you want to know, Elliot, just ask.  Of course, whether or not you can handle the answer is something else altogether.”

 

“She’s very...”  He scratched his neck, trying to find the right word. “Striking.  Were you two…?”

 

Olivia smiled and looked out the window.  “Once upon a time.”

 

“Really?”  His eyebrows tried to crawl off his forehead.  “She seems a bit too old for you.”

 

“Yeah?  Well, she was a lot younger fifteen years ago.  I met Faith on my first trip to The Center.”  The detective smiled fondly at the memory.  “And she’s older, but not too old.  She taught me a lot.”  Olivia raised one finger at him in warning.  “Trust me; you want to let that go without asking.”

 

Elliot laughed as he pulled the car into their designated spot.  He followed Olivia into the bullpen, going for coffee as his partner sat down and picked up the handset on her phone. 

 

Olivia carefully punched in the numbers from the post-it note, silently pleading with the universe to give them just one frigging break on this cluster-fuck of a case.

 

Her prayers were answered when the other end was picked up on the fourth ring, a strong female voice echoing in her ear.  “Hello?” 

 

“Yes, hello.  May I speak to Jessica Reed, please?”

 

“This is Jess.  Who is this?” 

 

“Hello, Ms. Reed.  My name is Detective Olivia Benson. I’m with the New York City Police Department.”

 

The voice on the other end snorted derisively.  “So what is this like a courtesy follow up call? Because I already heard the good news.”

 

Olivia blinked in confusion.  “I beg your pardon?"

“You’re calling about that psycho getting out of FenBrooke right?”

 

“FenBrooke Psychiatric Facility?”  She looked up at Elliot as he sat on the edge of her desk.  “Ms. Reed… Jessica… if we can just take a step backwards, that would help me out a lot.  Who exactly are we talking about here?”

 

“Peter Kinkaid!”  The woman snarled.  “The freak that ruined my life.”

 

Olivia wrote the name down quickly.  “Jessie, we’re currently investigating the murder of a woman who might have been attacked in the same manner that you were.  Can you please tell me what happened to you?”

 

“What happened to me?”  The words were repeated bitterly and Olivia knew she was losing her.  “What happened to me was that I lost my girlfriend, my job, my sense of well-being.  That bastard took everything from me and what did they do to him?  Absolutely nothing. Not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect.  I’ll remember those words for the rest of my life.”  Her breath hitched.  “No jail time.  He tortured and raped me and those two other girls and all they did was send him to that country club of a hospital.  And you know what the kicker was?”  Jessie spat.  “They tried him as a juvenile!  Said he was thirteen or something.  My ass!  That bastard was nearly six feet tall!  Judge said he didn’t deserve to have his whole life ruined over his ‘misdeeds as a confused youth’.  What the fuck is that about?  What about my life?”

 

Olivia rubbed the back of her neck.  She could sense Jessie’s anger and bitterness was about to cause her to spiral out of control.  If they didn’t get the answers they needed soon, the woman would end the call and they would have to start all over again when she had calmed down.

 

And they did not have that kind of time.

 

Her only option was to try and push the victim’s buttons, make her angrier and see what shook loose.  It was a tactic she normally avoided at all costs, but she didn’t see any other way to get the information they needed quickly.

 

“Ms. Reed!”  Olivia inserted a hint of irritation in her voice.  “I have a killer on my hands that may or may not be the same individual who attacked you.  I am sorry about what happened to you, and those other two girls, but the particulars of your court case do not interest me.  I need to know what happened during the attack.  I know it was a long time ago, but I need to know what you remember.”  She winced at the harshness of her words, not meeting Elliot’s questioning stare.

 

“What I remember…?  You want to know what I remember?”  Jessie’s voice sounded incredulous.  “I remember the way he smelled, the ways his hands felt on me.  I remember how calm he was, like what he was doing was the most normal thing in the world.  I remember the way he pinned me down, how he ripped off my clothes.  But you know what I remember most of all?  His voice.  His dead, flat, monotone voice and the way he kept saying the same four words over and over again like it was some kind of prayer.”

 

“What words?” 

 

“Thy will be done.”  The woman began to sob.  “I still hear it, in my sleep.  I wake up screaming.  Do you know how many times he repeated those words? Forty times!  Do you know how I know that?”

 

“How?”  Olivia whispered.

 

“Because he said it right before he cut into me each time!  Right before he carved each one of those little fucking crosses into my legs!”  Jess screamed.  “And every time my lover touches them I hear those words again!  You call me up, after your fucked up system let the bastard out and you ask me what I remember?”  Her voice suddenly became very quiet.  “I remember wanting to die, detective.”

 

“Ms. Reed, I am so sorry-“

 

“Don’t call here again.”

 

The line went dead before Olivia could complete her apology and she hung her head for a moment, silently finishing the words in her head and heart.  Then she dropped the handset back into the cradle and stood up.  “We’ve got what we need.  Let’s call Alex.”