Animal - Ch. 9

[whedonist]

Ch. 9 – Spit in the Face

“Nick, I don’t care if God, himself, says that it doesn’t exist. I need that information. Find the case, let’s get the precedent set so I can nail this bastard and put him where he belongs.” I press the phone into my ear and listen to him fumble for a second more. I should have just hung up.

I swear I don’t know what they’re teaching these kids in law school anymore.

“Ms. Cabot, I’ll do what I can,” the young clerk says finally, resigned to his fate of learning to be an actual attorney.

“Find it.” I’m about to cut into him a little more, but the phone beeps to let me know I have another call coming through. “Nick, you’ve got twenty-four hours. I need to go.” I end the call and switch over to my other line. “Cabot.”

“Ms. Cabot?” the female voice on the other end of the phone asks.

“Speaking.” I stop in front of the bank of elevators that will take me up to my office.

“This is Marie, Mr. McCoy’s new aide. He needs to speak with you as soon as you have a minute.” I have to feel for the poor girl on the other end of the phone. She sounds downright frightened. Whatever this is, it can’t be good. Resigning myself, I say, “Tell him I’ll be there in five minutes; I just got out of court.”

“I’ll let him know. Thank you.” She disconnects with nothing further and as the elevator doors open, I step inside and hit the floor number that is home to my boss’s office.

When I step off the elevator, Marie is waiting, folio in hand, for me. I think that weekend I had planned with Olivia is going to get interrupted.

“Right this way, Ms. Cabot,” she says too full of enthusiasm.

We head down to a bank of conference rooms, the opposite direction of Jack’s office. “I thought we were going to see Jack?” I ask.

She doesn’t bother turning around as she answers, “We are, but he’s in here with the State Attorney General and some other woman. They’re waiting on you.”

Years of keeping a façade firmly in place is the only thing that keeps me from faltering, stopping the girl and demanding more information. Instead, I hike up the strap on my attaché and take two seconds to prepare myself as we stop in front of the meeting room door.

Marie opens the door for me and I walk through. To my left, Anthony Como, the New York State Attorney General and a woman I don’t know sit silently at the head of the table. I plaster a convincing smile on my face and make my way inside.

“Alexandra,” my boss greets, stands and holds out his hand. “It’s good to see you again.” He smiles as I take his hand lightly. He turns me to Como and introduces us, “Anthony, this is Alexandra Cabot, assistant district attorney to Manhattan’s Special Victims Unit.”

“Pleased to meet you Ms. Cabot.” The short, broad shouldered man beams at me. I take his hand and offer a grin of my own.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Como,” I say sitting my case on the carpet by a chair.

“Please, Anthony. Mr. Como is my father.” I laugh lightly and cringe internally. Some jokes need to be put six feet under. He turns to the woman on his left and introduces us, “Alexandra this is Isabel Cohen. She’s a Federal Prosecutor out of Washington.”

We shake hands and I look between Jack, Anthony and Isabel. Something’s up and I know I’m not going to like it.

The U.S. Attorney must sense my confusion. She smiles at me and says, “This is my fault.” Laughing a little, she explains, “I didn’t just want to show up at your office and upset you.” She pulls out a file and slides it over to me. I open it and recognize this being a copy of the case that Liv and El are working on with Buffy and Jimmy. “It would appear that the case your detectives are working on has become a bit more muddled.”

“Alex, have you heard from Detective’s Stabler or Benson?” Jack asks.

“I’ve been in court most of the morning.” I neglect to say that I had a few missed calls and a voicemail from Olivia. Most likely about the call Olivia got brought in on this morning.

Jack nods and fills in, “There was a body that was dumped at Bellevue last night. Benson and Stabler got called in. The woman whose case they caught is Detective Debra Morgan of the Miami Metro P.D.”

Isabel takes over, “Detective Morgan, her brother, Dexter Morgan and a colleague of mine went missing some weeks ago. With Debra’s appearance here in New York, we can only assume that the other two are here as well.”

“It would be a favor to me and Attorney General Holder, Ms. Cabot,” Anthony cuts in, “if you would sit co-chair with Isabel here.”

I barely have time to respond as Isabel says, “I didn’t want to cut into your case without introducing myself.”

Uh-huh.

The pieces click into place and the chain of command this went through is a little mind boggling. Isabel called the U.S. Attorney General, who called our State Attorney General, who called our D.A., who called me.

And personal favor?

This is great. I need more headaches.

I nod at the other tables occupants and say, “That’s very nice of you, Ms. Cohen. Anthony, consider it done.”

Isabel nearly looks relieved as she stands. “Great. I was hoping you could take me to see the detectives working the case?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” I answer and stand with everyone else.

Como looks more relieved than anyone here and Jack nods lightly in my direction.

“Alexandra,” Como says with his hand outstretched, holding a card. “Take my number, my personal cell and home number are on the back. Isabel, you both will have the full cooperation and support of the state of New York and Manhattan’s District Attorney’s office. If either of you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

A quick glance at Jack and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s paled. A look to Isabel and I see that she doesn’t really care, but she says, “Thank you,” anyhow. She’s already started for the door. I scramble to keep up. I get to the door as she’s started towards the elevators.

Jack calls out, “Alexandra.”

I look over my shoulder and nod. The look is clear. Don’t fuck up. Keep him updated of any major changes.

I rush after my new co-counsel and find her waiting at the elevators, smiling.

“Sorry, but conference rooms just give me the heebie-jeebies,” Isabel says and gives a dramatic shudder. I look her over again. She’s not tall, maybe five feet-two inches. Cream colored slacks; a royal blue button-up blouse and flat dress shoes make up her ensemble. There’s a gold cross nestled at the base of her throat and no rings.

My final analysis tells me she’s pretty cut and dry, attractive and young. I don’t think she’s inexperienced, but age wise, she’s maybe twenty-eight.

I can’t help but wonder what Olivia and El have gotten themselves into.

We step into the elevator and ride down in silence. As we approach my black, Audi S5 coupe that I bought last year, I key open the locks and pop the trunk. Tossing my bag and hers into the cargo space, I wait for her to take the passenger seat before slipping into the driver’s side.

“So,” I say as I turn left, heading north towards Canal, “you mentioned the third kidnapping victim as a colleague. She was a federal prosecutor, too?”

Isabel shakes her head. “No, unfortunately, she actually works for a company I do consulting work for.”

I expect her to continue, but she offers nothing more. The information Elliot and Olivia dug up on Buffy seems to surface. Knowing that the company Buffy’s sister works for has its hands in consulting work, I hedge my bets and fish, “So she works for the Watcher’s Council.”

The other woman’s head snaps in my direction.

Bingo.

She nods slowly and says, “She does. What do you know of the Council?”

I shrug and turn onto DiMaggio Highway. “They deal in antiquities, consultations and for some reason education for gifted children.”

“They do. I actually help them with their legal work here in the States.” She leans back in her seat and pulls out her phone. Slipping it back into her pocket after reading the screen, she asks, “About how long until we get to the precinct?”

I look at the next exit and say, “Barring major traffic, maybe ten minutes.”

She nods. “The other agents should be getting ready to make announcements then.”

“Other agents?” I ask.

“Because the case now crosses jurisdictions, two federal agents have also been assigned to assist in the investigation.” I stop my mouth from dropping open and she continues, “From what I understand your detectives, Bennet and Stable…”

“Benson and Stabler,” I correct.

“Sorry, Benson and Stabler are working with Detectives McAllister and Summers?”

I nod and she asks, “Have you had much time to work with Detective Summers?”

I smile a little and shake my head. “We’ve had more social interaction than work interaction.”

“How so?”

“Through,” I decide on the name drop. Isabel seems…the only word that comes to mind is eager. Like she knows of the detective, but has never met her. “Willow.”

Her head snaps in my direction. “Willow Rosenberg?”

I nod and her reaction causes me to remember the conversation I had with Liv on Valentine’s Day. Isabel's response confirms Liv’s theory in so far as there is more to Buffy and her partners than what’s on paper.

Finally, we manage to hop off the highway and make it to the station house. I find a parking space reserved for A.D.A.’s and we head to the precinct. Signing in, I lead her up the stairs to SVU’s bullpen, half dreading the atmosphere when I get there. No one is going to be happy the federal government’s taken an interest in this case.

---

I take a look around the bull pen and shake my head. We’ve got Olivia, Elliot, Cabot, Huang and Cragen making up the gang for the one-six. Me, Cupcake and Red here for the two-four and three outsiders. I try not to sneer in their direction, but I have a hard time with feebs. They’re usually too green to know how to run an investigation and they need to be in control of every, fucking, little, thing. So much so that you can’t even take a piss without getting clearance from them first.

They haven’t introduced themselves yet, but I know F.B.I. when I see it. They all stink the same way. I look over at Elliot and nod. He’s got the same look I do.

The captain pulls us all together and says, “Team, I’d like to introduce some people. Given the nature of the case and its recent turn of events yesterday, we’re getting some federal help.”

One of the women steps up next to Cragen. She’s pretty. Asian with long hair tied up in what Cupcake would describe as a quirky type of hair do. “Hello,” she says, “I’m Federal Agent Satsu Takeda.” She points to the taller, gangly girl standing to her right and introduces, “This is my partner, Agent Amanda Kramer.” Her hand gestures to the slightly shorter than her woman next to Amanda, “This is Federal Attorney Isabel Cohen.”

A collective groan goes through the crowd except for where it should the most. I look over at my partner and see she ain’t even batted an eye. She notices me eyein’ her and shrugs. I squint. I get pissed.

She knew this was coming.

She couldn’t take two and tell her partner that this was coming?

I grumble and turn my attention back to Satsu as she continues. “We’ve had the chance to glance at the case files and I would like to first off state that we aren’t here to take over the investigation.” Her hands drop to her side and she tries for none threatening, but there’s something there that just doesn’t make it happen.

I study both her and Amanda a bit closer. My eyes go to Buffy and then back to the two feebs. There’s something there…I just can’t…

Oh.

Shit.

Well that makes tons of fucking sense. They’re slayers. Not the attorney, but these two agents are slayers. They move like Cupcake. Fluid, graceful in that unannounced sorta way that I’ve only seen her be able to pull off. And Faith. I’ve seen Faith do it too.

This is Princess’ doing. The muscles of my back tighten as my teeth scrape together.

“We aren’t here to take away the case you have worked hard on. Given the cross-jurisdictional nature, we have stepped in to assist. I’ve been given explicit direction to defer to Detective Summers.”

Satsu looks to Cupcake to take up the slack, but Buffy just stands there. Like she knew it was coming and couldn’t care less. Given that she is Satsu’s true boss, the reason she is where she is, I can sorta see it.

I look at the Captain and his cop mask slips a little. There ain’t one person from the one-six that ain’t got their jaws on the floor.

My partner finally moves and first she smiles at Satsu. A slight tip of Satsu’s chin and she steps back, falling in line next to her partner.

“Thanks.” Cupcake runs a hand through her hair and looks at Willow. Red shrugs in a ‘what are you going to do’ look.

“Right, gotta wear the general pants,” Buffy mumbles, “I hate general pants. I sucked at it.” Red sends her a sour look and Buffy straightens up. “’Kay, Satsu, Amanda and Isabel, it’s good to have you on board. Everyone else, we’ve got leads to follow up on and since Deb’s turned up, I think you guys will want to talk to her.”

“I need to go see her too,” Willow adds.

Buffy nods. She looks at me and knows that we need to talk.

Swallowing, she turns a hopeful eye to the one-six team. “Uh, is anyone free to take these four to the hospital?”

After a few seconds, Olivia steps forward and says, “I can.”

“Thanks.” Buffy steps back and I watch the group break up.

The silent dispersal of the troops makes me cringe. Everyone’s pretty tense and no one’s talking much. Olivia ushers the three feebs out of the bullpen and looks at Willow.

Red holds up her finger and says, “Give me a minute.” Olivia looks to the three of us and nods.

Buffy takes her hand and leads her towards the entrance, Will turns back and looks at me. “See you at home?”

I nod. “See you tonight,” I say, winking. Kid’s worried. I should tell her to join the club.

Buffy comes back a moment later and motions me to follow her. I push off the desk I was leaning on and follow her back to a set of interrogation rooms.

She waits for me and as I step inside the first one that’s open, she shuts the door. I perch on the corner of the table and fold my arms across my chest.

She turns to me and looks apologetic. She damn well better be. “How mad,” she starts, “are you? Scale of one to ten?”

Rolling my eyes, I bark, “Try fucking twelve.”

She winces and her shoulders slump. In the massive coat she has on, I nearly loose her. A small pang of sympathy weasels it’s way inside and I relent, not much, but enough. “I’m gonna go out on a limb, Cupcake and say you knew this was coming.”

Her arms wrap around her and she nods.

“Partner,” I say, “first thing, take that coat off. I can’t take you seriously with that thing eating you up.” She laughs and I crack a small grin, while she does what I say. “Second, it wouldn’t have taken you two damn minutes to loop me in. Hell, you could have shot it over via that mind meld you and Red are so fond of.”

“I could have,” she admits quietly. She steps up to me and takes hold of my hands, placing them on her shoulder. I stand up straighter and she leaves me no personal space. “I’m sorry.”

Sighing, I cave like a cheap chair. “You’re cookin’ dinner all next week.”

Pulling her to me, I feel her laugh against my chest. “Alright,” she mumbles. “And, I’m really sorry. There really wasn’t any time. When I left you at the hospital to go get Will, Dawn called. The team was already on their way and then I was talking with Cragen when you showed up.”

I sigh and say, “Bullshit, but I’m gonna let it slide this time.” I let her go and we lean side by side on the table. “Next time it happens, Blondie not only are you cookin’ dinner, I’m gonna make you do my laundry too.” I wrap my left arm around her shoulders and squeeze.

“Deal.”

No argument? She must be feeling bad about it.

“So,” I say trying to lighten the mood, “I’ll say we’ve got a crazy ass vampire playing with us. You want to do this old man a solid and tell me what you think?”

Sighing, she pushes off the table and starts a slow pace across the room. “Without Deb awake it’s kind of hard.”

My eyebrow raises and I know she’s holding back. “But,” I say slowly, knowing that she needs pushing, “you do have a theory.”

She confirms with a slight nod. “I do.” She stops and leans against the wall. Her head tips back and a leg comes up, bending at the knee; she rests her foot flat against the wall. “Her brother, Dexter, I think he’s partly responsible.”

I fold my arms across my chest and try to remember all that she and Will told me when they came home from Miami. “So let me try and give a run down, Dexter is a lab rat for Metro. Deb’s a detective. Dexter is also a serial killer. From what you said, he kills rapists, thugs, child molesters and other creeps that we can’t catch ‘cause there’s never enough evidence.” I wait for her to confirm that I’m doing okay. Once her head tips up and she looks at me, I continue, “So the cat’s doing us a favor, not one we should really like, but rationally it’s a favor.”

Her mouth turns down and she glares at me. I hold my hands up and say, “Look, I’m just statin’ the facts. Hell, I may have wanted to take the guy out and buy him a beer.” A projectile comes flying from her hand and I have no time to deflect it. The thunk sounds as it hits me in the forehead and drops into my shirt pocket. I rub the spot where it hit and reach into to retrieve the item.

I pull out a tube of Chapstick and frown. “Anyhow, you also said the guy doesn’t touch kids. Period.”

“He doesn’t…or he didn’t” She looks over at me and says, “My theory is that he got attacked, over powered and turned. His fiancé’s place was torched, with her and her kids inside. Then Siobhan, Deb and him go missing? That stinks.” She goes back to staring at the stained acoustic tiled ceiling. “I think they came up here to come after Will and I. I also think that Deb was supposed to be dead. She survived, but barely.”

It’s a fair guess. Truthfully, I was thinking similar things. I stand and grab her coat. She follows me to the door and we make our way out of the room. My hand goes to the small of her back, guiding her to our desks. Leaning down, I whisper, “Cupcake, you could write a book.” She looks back at me confused. I crack a wide grin and say, “You’re the only girl I know that can inspire such hatred in people that they wanna track you down even after they’re dead.”

For my joke, she swats my chest. I snort. Figures.

---

“Stabler.”

“El,” Olivia says, nearly getting lost in the noise of a busy street. I press the phone harder to my ear as she speaks, “We’re getting ready to leave the hospital. Do you want me to swing by and pick you up?”

I look at my computer and note the time. “You could, but are you gonna have time to go question Levine?” It’s not that I don’t want to go home; I just don’t want to go home right now.

“Yeah, that sounds like something we can do.” I hear a car door open and figure she has to get off the phone soon.

“Why don’t you drop off our new friends and then swing by?” I suggest.

“Yeah sounds good. See you in a few partner.” Liv disconnects and I go back to staring at my DD-5. It’s the same damn report I’ve been staring at for the past two hours. Luckily, Fin and Munch are beating the bushes and Cragen hasn’t come out of his office or I’d be in it.

Buffy and Jimmy took off about twenty minutes after everyone else left. Having them around, it creeps me out.

The other thing…I mop my face with my hand and sigh. I had to have misheard. There’s really no other explanation.

Thinking back, maybe I shouldn’t have followed them, but…maybe I can blame it on being around too many girls.

What else could sound like “crazy ass vampire” or “turned”? They were serious when they were talking about it. Like they were talking about a suspect. Maybe it’s a partner thing. Buffy could be a one of them girls that’s into vampire stories and it could just spill over into her work.

Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

Sighing, I stuff the report in the second tray on my desk and look up as Fin and Munch come through the doors.

“El,” Munch says, looking at me with a big question mark.

I smile, “How’d tea with ‘Ms. Moneypenny’ go?” It’s become the nickname for Mrs. Leslie Gutierrez.

The woman’s a piece of work. Munch and Fin land this case where this eleven year old girl ends up pregnant. The poor kid’s been victimized for years. The mother, the bitch, is protecting someone.

Last time Fin went to question the mom, she was combative and monosyllabic. That and I think that she didn’t appreciate our forty-dollar loafers and poly-blend suits touching her furniture. Let alone talking to someone that wears clothes like that.

Munch shrugs, Fin fumes, “She’s not protecting her daughter.”

Munch agrees, “Yeah, the woman gives me the creeps.”

“And we all know,” Fin comments, “That’s nearly impossible to do.”

“Odafin, the woman is bordering on impeding a criminal investigation. If I could get Cabot to get the arrest warrant, I would,” Munch grumps.

Fin nods. “You really think she’s protecting the son of a bitch that did this to her kid?”

“She’s refusing to give us access to her staff at the house,” he says, ticking the list off on his fingers as he gets wound up, “she refused to have a rape kit done on Laura, she’s less than helpful anytime we want to talk to her and in my humble opinion, the woman could care less that someone’s been diddling her little girl and has finally gotten her pregnant.”

I shake my head and look at Fin. “You just had to get him going?”

Fin smirks. “Hey I agree with the brother. The woman’s protecting someone and it sure as hell ain’t her daughter.” He looks at Munch and says, “We just need to find out who.” He then hands his partner a stack of papers. “And seeing as how Cabot went out on a limb and got us her phone records and bank statements, I think we should see if we can find anything.”

Munch takes the stack and sits down. I look between the two of them and ask, “You think there’s money involved?” Truthfully, hearing about the depravity of the human race isn’t something I need; it’s a welcome distraction to get rid of the conversation I overheard earlier today.

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, Stabler,” Munch answers as he looks up from his stack of papers.

I lean back in my chair and offer, “You guys want some help until Liv comes to get me?”

“Yeah, if you can take the cell phone records?” Fin stands and comes over to hand me a small stack of papers.

I grin up at him and laugh, “How come none of the cop shows tell you that seventy-nine percent of the job is paperwork?”

We all laugh and Munch says, “And take away the glamor that is dealing with the dregs of society? Think of the scandal.”

“It must be some type of conspiracy.” I grin at Fin and he rolls his eyes.

“Stabler, don’t go gettin’ him started. You get to leave soon. I’ll be stuck listening to him yap for hours.” Fin saunters back to his desk and I pick up the stack of papers.

Might as well make myself useful.

A quarter of the way down through the printouts and there’s a number that repeats in pattern. Once a week, at exactly six p.m. the call lasts between three to five minutes. There’s something about the woman that’s off. I know that the numbers and the bank statements are a long shot, but we’ve all been doing this too long to not start looking where the abuse usually comes from.

More often than not it's closest to home. It’s what they teach you in the academy. Most people are victimized by the people that are nearest to them. It’s a sick, sad fact. It’s also depressing that those of us that have been here and witnessed it aren’t shocked by it much anymore.

The little girl’s not talking. She didn’t want to talk to me, Munch or Fin. Hell, we even called Olivia in and the girl clammed up more around her.

“Hello,” Munch says from his desk.

I look up at him and he’s looking over my shoulder. I turn around and a girl no older than twenty-five stands in the doorway. I smile my most non-threatening smile and stand. Munch is already out of his seat and asking, “Can I help you?”

She looks down and clutches her purse. “I…My name is Rachel Gutierrez.”

Munch ushers her in and sits her at Olivia’s desk. “Hi Rachel, I’m John.” He points to Fin and then me, saying, “That’s my partner, Odafin and this is Elliot.” She nods politely in greeting and Munch drops down to one knee to try and maintain eye contact.

“What can we do to help you Rachel?” he asks softly.

A quick glance to Fin and I know we’re both anticipating whatever this young woman has to say. I go back to watching her. She looks up and our eyes meet. No one should have eyes that look that sad and that broken.

She draws in a breath and squares her shoulders. “I…talked to my mother. She said that Laura’s pregnant.” She waits on confirmation from one of us and once she gets it the flood gates open. Her large brown eyes fill with tears and they spill over, down her cheeks. “I…I…ddiddn’t…” She heaves and just then Olivia walks again.

There's ascowl on her face as she sends me a ‘what did you do?’ look. I shake my head and she’s on her knees pushing Munch out of the way. The girl falls into her arms and Olivia helps her to her feet. Olivia half carries her into an interrogation room. We stand and watch.

A hand resting on my left shoulder brings me out of my stupor. I look back and Alex is wearing a grim smile. “Who was that?” she asks.

“Rachel Gutierrez. Laura Gutierrez’s big sister.” Munch answers.

In silent agreement, we all go to the observation room and hit the button to listen. Liv is sitting next to her, holding her hand and offering her new tissues by the handful. All of us listen to the confession of this young girl’s victimization. Just like hundreds that have come before her, the walls of the room hold her secrets, their secrets, our secrets.

I fold my arms across my chest and resist the urge to puke. The girl collapses into Olivia as she details how her mother would let men visit her once a week, for an hour, sometimes longer. Rachel cries as she says that her mother would take money from the men so that they would be allowed to spend time with Rachel. Rachel’s coming forward now because of Laura. She didn’t think her mother would do that to her baby sister.

All of us, Cabot included, remain rooted to our spot for nearly an hour. Eventually the girl cries herself to sleep and I open the door as Olivia carries her out of the room. Offering to take the small girl from my partner, she transfers Rachel to me and I make my way up to the crib. The four of them follow.

Gently, I lay her down, cover her up and make my way out of the crib. I shake my head and look at everyone. We all have the same look in our eyes.

Jumping into action, Alex takes charge, “Elliot, Olivia, Jimmy and Buffy said they would take over watching Debra until she wakes up. We’re not needed there which means you can stay here to help wrap this up.” She directs a cold gaze to Fin and Munch and says, “This is your case. Call C.P.S. to bring the little girl here.” They look at her for a second, Alex clarifies, “Go get that bitch so I can make sure she, and the men she’s going to name, rot in Hell.”

A small smile forms at the corners of my mouth. It’s damn good to have Alex back.