SAVING GRACES

Chapter Two



Olivia Benson frowned at the report in front of her.



“Ok, Liv?” Elliott Stabler asked as he passed by her desk.



“Yea.” Olivia stretched her arms and legs. “Either the lights in here are getting worse, the print on these reports is getting smaller, or I need to start thinking about glasses.”



Stabler smiled. “You can’t need glasses. That’d mean I’ll need them soon too.”



Olivia returned the smile and resumed her study of the report. “George Flynn has a lot of enemies, real and imagined.”



“With his opinions, I’m not surprised,” Munch said dourly. “Some of his ideas were old in the Nineteenth Century.”



“I’m afraid his stuff isn’t part of my regular reading,” Olivia said dryly.



“You and most of the American Psychological Association.” George Huang looked up from the files he studied. “George Flynn hasn’t been part of the establishment since he fought the APA’s decision to remove the designation of homosexuality as a mental disorder. And that’s made him a hero to some.”



“Not on the list of approved headshrinkers, uh?” Stabler grinned.



“No,” Huang said tensely. “But he’s not just some maverick. Flynn holds on to ideas that have been completely discredited. His opinions on discipline and education are just this side of child abuse. In some of his writings and speeches, he’s been just this side of racism. He claims to be a devout Catholic, but the New York Archdiocese had decried much of his work and tried to put as much distance as it can between it and him.”



“And the Archdiocese of New York is a known bastion of liberalism,” Munch said dryly. “Some of Flynn’s statements would give even Pope Benedict the shivers.”



“If he’s such an extremist, why is he so popular?” Olivia asked.



“Because he yells louder than anyone else,” Huang said forcefully. “And he gives people easy answers.”



The detectives studied Huang; the psychiatrist rarely reacted to anything with so much emotion.



“Flynn,” Huang said in answer to their attention. “Is the kind of person who gives psychology and psychiatry bad names. In defense of my profession, I can say that Flynn doesn’t have any real credentials. He has a couple of honorary doctorates from small religious institutions, but no real degrees beyond a BA in Sociology.”



“If he practices what he preaches,” Munch said. “I understand why the kid ran away.”



The detectives looked up as their captain, wearing his usual sorrowful expression, entered the office.



“Looks like trouble,” Stabler said.



“Possibly,” Cragen responded. “The Flynn case. The FBI is on standby to help, but won’t be directly involved, at least not for right now.”



Cragen’s detectives visibly relaxed.



“But we will have two detectives from the Major Case Squad joining us,” Cragen continued. “In response to Mr. Flynn’s “requests”…and the “suggestion” of the Chief of Detectives.”



Just as quickly as they had relaxed, the SVU detectives became tense.



“People,” Cragen said calmly. “The Major Case detectives don’t want to intrude. They don’t want to invade our turf. They know this is politics. And I won’t reject the help.”



“All right,” Olivia said in resignation. “Who are they?”



Cragen paused for a beat. “Alex Eames and Robert Goren.”



Stabler snorted. “Great…the department’s fair-haired boy of the hour.”



“Elliott,” Cragen warned. “Neither of them volunteered for this…Neither of them seem to be glory seekers…I liked them both when I met them.”



“I know Alex,” Olivia said. “Good cop…good person…If Goren is good enough for her, he’s good enough for me.”



Munch leaned back in his chair. “Fin worked with him in Narcotics. He’s always said good things about him.”



“Anyone who could get a confession from Mark Ford Brady.” Huang shook his head. “Goren has done some remarkable things.”



“Ok, ok,” Stabler said and raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll reserve judgment on Goren.”



“For about five minutes,” Olivia said wryly.



“Ten,” Stabler said. “I promise at least ten.”



“I welcome the friendly atmosphere,” Cragen said. “But let’s try to be ready for our visitors when they get here.”



Olivia turned to the transcript of her interview with Maria Flynn, soon to be ex-wife of George and mother of Michael. “Claims her son wouldn’t run away…and most kids don’t run away,” Olivia thought. Her gut and the evidence told her Michael Flynn was not one of the rare cases where a kid had run away.



She sensed him before she saw him. Olivia wasn’t certain what alerted her to his arrival in the squad room. It may have been the sudden quiet in the room, or perhaps she saw him or the reactions of others reflected off computer screens. If she were less logical, she thought she might have reacted to his aura. For whatever reason, Olivia turned. She later regretted that she missed Alex Eames’ presence at his side, but in those first few moments Bobby Goren overwhelmed Olivia’s senses. He was big—tall and solid—and his hair full of graying and undisciplined curls. For all of his physical size, he moved gracefully, almost as if he were apologizing for taking up so much space. Olivia noted these qualities later; it was Bobby Goren’s eyes that seized her attention. They were deep, dark chocolate pools framed by impossibly long eyelashes. In the brief moment his gaze settled on her, Olivia saw a history of pain and a strange connection with this man. Goren blinked, and Olivia, unable to bear those eyes’ scrutiny, turned away. She stared at her desk and desperately tried to keep her heart from pounding. “Good Lord,” she thought. “What was that? Alex told me some women had strong reactions to Goren, but I’m no naïve kid. That hasn’t happened to me since…since ever…”



Slightly more in control, Olivia watched Cragen introduce Alex and Goren to the other detectives and George Huang. Elliott was wary but professional, Munch quiet and uncommitted, Huang curious. Cragen turned to Olivia.



“Olivia and I know each other,” Alex said.



“Yea.” Olivia stood. “We occasionally meet with other girls to complain about the department…”



“And partners,” Alex smiled.



“That,” Stabler said genially. “Must be some discussion. I bet Liv wins that competition.”



Olivia felt relieved and pleased at Elliott’s relaxed attitude. He could be very territorial, but Alex and Goren certainly weren’t acting like invaders. At Stabler’s words, a quick smile crossed Goren’s face. “I doubt it…Eames usually wins that contest without breaking a sweat,” he said.



His voice mesmerized Olivia. It was low, gentle, slightly hesitant, and she was stunned that something that hypnotic and tender came from such a giant of a man.



“Detective Olivia Benson,” Cragen said. “Detective Robert Goren.”



“Bobby, if you haven’t already guessed,” Alex said cheerfully.



Bobby turned his attention on her, and her heart again began to pound so loudly that Olivia thought everyone in the building must hear it. Her mouth filled with dry cotton, and she could only manage a nod at Bobby.



Odafin Tutuola’s arrival saved her from deeper embarrassment. “Goren!” Fin cried in delight as he strode in the office. “Whatcha doing here? Slumming with your poorer brothers?” Fin reached Bobby and wrapped him in a fierce hug. Bobby hesitated awkwardly for only a moment, and then warmly returned the hug.



“No slumming,” Bobby said as he disentangled from Fin’s grasp. “Just doing what the Brass wants…”



“Wow, Fin, this guy knows you and is willing to come work with us anyway,” Munch said dryly. “Goren must be ok.”



In the brief laughter that followed, Olivia was just close enough to hear Bobby whisper to Fin. “Thanks, Fin, for coming to the funeral…and everything.”



“No problem, man,” Fin replied.



“I take it I don’t need to introduce you,” Cragen said.



“We know each other from Narcotics,” Fin explained. “This guy could run an operation…” He shook his head. “I’m sure there’re guys sitting in cells who still don’t know how they got there. This guy is the best.”



His face slightly flushed, Bobby stared at his feet. “Well…you were no slouch, Fin. It was a good team.”



“What Bobby said…about the Brass,” Alex said, sensing her partner needed to be rescued from all the praise rained on him. “We know this is a political thing. We know you can handle this. But we’re here and we want to help.” She glanced around the room, stopping when her view met Cragen’s. “I’m sorry, Captain,” she said firmly. “If I’ve said too much…”



“You didn’t,” Cragen said warmly. “You made the point I want to. Maybe a little more bluntly.”



“She always this honest?” Fin asked Bobby.



Bobby smiled warmly and proudly at Alex. “Yea…and then some…”



“We shouldn’t have any problems, then,” Stabler said. “All this manpower should be able to find Michael Flynn.”



“Personpower, Elliott,” Olivia said lightly. She walked past Bobby, and caught a whiff of his subtle cologne. He smiled at her apologetically as he stepped out of her way, and a long forgotten warmth started behind Olivia’s heart and spread through her body. She tried to return the smile, and felt as if she were thirteen again and trying to impress Tommy Valando at her junior high dance. She was sure the results were ghastly.



“Yea, Stabler.” Enormous relief swept over Olivia as she heard Alex’s voice. “Don’t discriminate against half of the population.”



Stabler smiled at Alex. “I meant manpower as a generic term.”



“Don’t get in a snark war with Eames,” Bobby said. “She’s the master.”



“I’ll take that as an apology, Stabler,” Alex said genially. “And just to show there’s no hard feelings, Bobby and I’ll take the grunt work and look at those files from the FBI.”



Olivia caught the affectionate and worried look Alex gave her partner as they settled at two desks with the files. “She’s worried about him,” Olivia thought. She remembered the rumors that spread through the department at the break in the Brady case. Fin quickly squelched any comments he heard that suggested Goren had gotten the confession because he’d gotten in Brady’s head. “He’s got other ways,” Finn said. “And the guy’s just buried his Mom…I’d say he did good work…Give him a break.” Olivia studied Alex and Bobby. “She thinks he’s back too soon,” she thought. “And,” Olivia noted Bobby’s gaunt face and the dark circles beneath his eyes. “She may be right.”



The Major Case detectives spent the rest of the day working quietly at the two desks in a corner of the office; the SVU detectives were barely aware of their presences aside from an occasional request for a file or help with a computer. Eames cheerfully joined a run for food for lunch, while Goren remained fascinated by the files on the desk in front of him. Olivia’s attention remained on the witness statements in the Flynn case, few and largely helpful they were. When she raised her weary eyes from one statement she saw Bobby deep in study of the materials before him. He started, reached for another file, opened it, studied it, closed it, and reached for another. He repeated this process several times, a worried frown deepening on his face.



Olivia stood, stretched, and walked over to Bobby. “What’s wrong?” she asked and wondered why it was so difficult to keep her voice from shaking.



Bobby looked up at her and blinked in surprise. “Sorry,” he said after a moment. “I…I…was a bit lost…” Olivia felt herself getting lost again in those dark eyes. “It…it’s…” He pointed at the files. “Here…Do you…What do you see here?”



Olivia sat carefully in the chair next to him and struggled, not entirely successfully, to ignore her body’s physical closeness to Bobby. She concentrated on the files Bobby showed her. He made few comments beyond pointing to a few names or numbers. A terrible dread rose in her.



“I see it…A pattern of disappearances…” she said flatly.



Bobby nodded. “No disrespect,” he said softly. “But I’d like Eames to take a look at it…”



“I’d like Elliott to see it too,” Olivia answered as she stood.



Bobby nodded in understanding. Before he and Olivia could reach Alex and Elliott, a storm blew into the office. Cragen moved quickly to intercept it, but it managed to reach the middle of the squad room.



“What are you doing to find my boy?” the storm demanded. “Are there more detectives working on the case? Is the FBI involved?”



“Mr. Flynn,” Cragen began in his most conciliatory tone.



“DOCTOR,” the storm said through clenched teeth.



“So that’s “Doctor” Flynn,” Alex whispered to Munch.



“With all his sweetness and understanding,” Munch whispered back.



“I wanted the Department’s best,” Flynn said angrily. “All I see here…” His eyes lighted on Bobby, who attempted to disappear into a corner, a nearly impossible task given his and the corner’s relative size.



“You,” Flynn said in the voice of a man who was used to his commands being obeyed without question. “You’re new. Who are you?”



Alex, who knew her partner, felt the anger and tension rise in Bobby; the SVU detectives saw only his calm control.



Bobby looked to Cragen. The SVU captain was his superior in this situation, and his brief experience with the man gave him no reason to undermine Cragen’s authority. And, while he sympathized with Flynn’s situation, the man’s arrogance made Bobby ill-inclined to give the man any satisfaction.



Cragen, quietly grateful for Bobby’s acknowledgment of his superiority, moved to stand between Flynn and the detective. “Dr. Flynn,” the captain said. “This is Detective Eames.” He nodded at Alex. “And Detective Goren…”



“Goren?” Flynn stared at Bobby. “The detective who got the confession from that serial killer?”



Bobby stared at his feet. “Detective Eames had a great deal to do with it…and many others…”



Flynn ignored him. “Good…Maybe something will get done around here…Are you in charge of the case now?”



The SVU detectives stiffened, and Cragen’s expression darkened. Bobby moved to defend his colleagues.



“No,” he said calmly, although Alex sensed the anger beneath his words. “Detective Eames and I are assisting Captain Cragen and his detectives. Not that they need it…They’re the best…Let’s be honest here, Mr. Flynn…Detective Eames and I are here at the Chief of Detective’s request. But these detectives do not need our help.”



George Flynn was not used to contradictions. He flared at Bobby’s refusal to address him as “Doctor”, and stared openmouthed at the detective’s comments.



Bobby stepped closer to Flynn. “These detectives…and Eames and I…will do everything…EVERYTHING…to find your son…But you have to let us do our job…And to tell us the truth about what happened before your son disappeared.”



Elliott and Olivia shared a surprised look. The SVU detectives strongly suspected George Flynn wasn’t telling truth about what happened between himself and his son, but they hadn’t expressed these concerns to Goren and Eames.



“I know,” Bobby continued in a slow, hypnotic voice. “You’re concerned about your son…about Michael…and about your reputation…but have to decide what’s more important…”



Flynn reddened. “You think…you think you know anything about me…about my son…about psychology…”



“I know what the facts tell me,” Bobby replied. “They tell a story of a boy who’s run away before…Your wife…likely soon to be ex-wife…says your son is afraid of you…That he feels that you use him…”



“She…she’s a vindictive woman,” Flynn spluttered.



“Possibly.” Bobby’s eyes bore into Flynn. “But his teachers…his friends…They say the same things…”



Flynn stared at Bobby. The man was clearly not used to being contradicted, let alone analyzed.



“Your son’s life may depend on what you tell us…We’ve already lost over twenty-four hours,” Bobby said firmly. “You’ve probably heard that the first forty-eight hours are crucial in solving a case…That’s particularly true in a missing person case.” His tone and face grew softer. “I believe you love Michael…The facts also indicate that…That you care about him. I may not agree with your ideas, but recognize that your intentions are good…You want your son…and others…to be good, strong men…”



The swagger and arrogance left Flynn. He looked ready to collapse, and Fin rolled a chair to him; the distraught man slumped in it.



“I…” He stared up at Bobby; the two men might have been the only people in the room. “So many people look up to me…Believe me…What would they think…If they knew…” Flynn’s head fell into his hands. “Michael isn’t a bad boy…I’ve probably been too hard on him.”



Bobby grasped another chair and rolled it across from Flynn. The detective sat carefully in it and leaned forward so that only inches separated him from Flynn. They looked like a priest and a confessor.



“I believe you,” Bobby said softly. A terrible silence descended in the squad room. “Everything in Michael’s record shows a boy who’s trying to be good…to do the right thing…His grades are good…He’s an altar boy…He plays baseball and runs track…”



“When,” Olivia wondered. “Did he get all that information? Did he read the file that quickly and remember it?” She glanced at Elliott, who was clearly as impressed as she was by Goren’s knowledge and use of it.



Flynn gazed desperately at Bobby. “I believe in what I write and say,” he said. “But…but reality isn’t…The people who read me…Listen to me…If they find out that my own son…” His head fell back into his hands. “What have I done? What have I done to my son?”



“You have a chance to undo things…to make things right,” Bobby said. “Tell us the truth.”



Words tumbled from George Flynn in a great rush. He described an increasing number of arguments between father and son, many of them related to the increasingly explosive relationship between George and Maria Flynn. The day of Michael’s disappearance the father and son had a furious argument about the boy’s growing reluctance to continue as an altar boy at the local parish. The last time Flynn saw his son Michael stormed out of the house to go to a baseball game. His parting words to his father were a furious request that George Flynn not come to the game and stay out of his life.



“He never got to that game,” Stabler whispered to Alex as Bobby talked to Flynn. “But Flynn never told us about his last conversation with Michael.”



“We’ve lost a lot of time because of that,” Fin groused.



Flynn’s confessional was over, and he stumbled out of the office. Bobby stood for a moment rubbing the back of his neck and walked back to the other detectives. Olivia felt a desire to hug him; glancing at Alex, Olivia guessed she felt the same.



“I think he’s finally telling the truth,” Bobby said wearily. “He’s very conflicted…torn between his faith…his ambition…his love for his son.”



Munch shook his head. “The way he treats his son? He loves him?”



Bobby leaned on a chair. “Yea…He doesn’t know how to express it…But I think he does love him…”



“Well, at least you’ve gotten Flynn to tell us the truth,” Stabler said admiringly.



“That’s my partner,” Alex said warmly.



Bobby gave her a grateful look, but frowned. “There’s…there’s something…” He turned toward Olivia.



“Yea,” she said. “Just before Flynn burst in…” She strode to the computer where Bobby had worked through the day. “Elliott…Munch…take a look at this…”



The detectives leaned in front of the computer screen. Shadows appeared in their eyes as they took in the information.



“They see it, too,” Olivia said grimly to Bobby, who nodded sadly in agreement.



“Eames,” he said. “Could you…”



Alex nudged in between Elliott and Munch; within a few moments, the same shadows appeared and darkened in her eyes.



“What have you got?” Cragen returned from escorting a chastened George Flynn out of the building.



“There’s a pattern, Captain,” Munch said. He looked at Bobby. “You found it, Goren…You should tell him…”



Bobby sighed. “I was checking for similar past cases,” he said reluctantly. “I cast the net pretty wide…and found several cases…I used some different sources…including what the FBI gave us…and I found several cases…missing boys between twelve and sixteen…I think all were Catholic…many altar boys…disappeared on their way to or from a baseball game.”



Shivers ran up and down the detectives’ backs. George Huang gave voice to their fear.



“You think we may have a pattern,” he said deliberately. “That the cases are related.”



Bobby stared out a window; no one in the room thought he was examining the scenery. “I hope I’m wrong,” he said softly. “But yes…”



END Chapter Two