Man,Beast,Victim..at the mercy of a twisted warden, what choice is there? He's "His Pet." |
"~ His Pet ~ Prologue" Chapter 1 Fresh Kills Land Fill Staten Island, NY Tuesday, June 3rd Detective Bryce Callahan rubbed at tired eyes as he flashed his shield to the blues and stepped under the yellow crime scene tapes. He wrinkled his nose at the stench as he picked his way through the pile of refuse, working his way across the uneven ground to his partner. "What'a we got here?" he asked, joining Detective Gina Pancamo and the Medical Examiner. "On site preliminary? Our victim is a white female, mid to late thirties, possible working girl with a serious needle habit. She has severe bruising of the pelvis along with the vagina, inside of the thighs, buttocks, hip and tail bone. There are deep human bite marks to the breasts. Scratches and abrasions are consistent with being thrown repeatedly against a concrete wall or floor. She's been beaten; looks like someone used their bare fists. There are multiple facial fractures. We are talking a lot of rage. The strangulation marks around her throat and the spread of the finger bruises show us that our perp has got some big paws on him," M.E. Weiland said, pausing to push a spiral of her long, dark hair back into place. "I would say she's been dead maybe forty-eight hours from the looks of things. I will know more once I perform the autopsy, Detectives." Bryce nodded absently and squatted to examine the battered blond a little closer. His pale blue eyes narrowed intently as he took in the brute force damage. Once again the perp had taken the time to wipe a majority of the blood from the body. It just didn't match up with the rage. The images of two other working girls found dead in the last two weeks popped into his head, as he looked her over. All three had been violently raped, beaten, and strangled. He glanced around for any sign of her clothing or belongings, knowing the search would turn up nothing. Just like the other two, this was a dump job. He grimaced, noting the pun even in his own mind. Gina crouched beside him. "What is it?" she asked softly. He merely shook his head and straightened. "Bad pun," he muttered. The corner of Gina's generous mouth quirked as she rose to her feet. "Dump job?" she teased her partner. He nodded not able to contain the curve of his own lips, looking into her sparkling eyes. "How about grabbing a bite to eat on our way in? I'm starved," she said, stripping off her medical gloves and starting to shove them in her pocket. She turned at the gagging sound behind her and shook her head sympathetically at the young boy in blue tossing his cookies. Bryce laughed as he clearly heard her stomach growl. "Does anything touch your appetite anymore?" he teased. Gina had the good grace to color a little but shook her head negatively. "I'm a veteran SVU Detective, Callahan, not some rookie," she said firmly, but the blush was still visible. "Besides, I have to keep up my strength to keep up with the big boys," she muttered sarcastically, as she had to politely dismiss an overeager young officer's hand from her elbow. She shook her head, irritated that the man's leave probably had more to do with Bryce's protective glare than her protest. "I could eat and definitely need some damn coffee. Just toss the gloves. I don't think they will get you for littering," Bryce said wryly as his foot slid in god knew what. Gina's throaty chuckle sounded close behind him. Precinct House Manhattan, NY Tuesday, June 3rd Pancamo watched her partner of two years as he stood from his desk and stretched gingerly, heading toward the coffee pot. With their desks butting up to one another's face to face, it was very difficult to miss much. Obviously feeling her concerned gaze on him, he turned with the coffee pot in his hand. He quirked a perfect, dark eyebrow at her and raised the pot invitingly. She smiled and nodded, reaching for her long ago empty mug. He crossed the room easily and filled the mug, dropping two creams and a sugar onto her desk. "You ok?" she asked, quiet enough no one else would over hear in the din of the room. He looked at her, puzzled for a moment. "You're moving awful stiffly," she prompted. Comprehension dawned in his blue eyes. "I'm getting old," he cracked with a rueful grin. "I'm still a little sore from that play at the plate the other night against the two-five," Gina couldn't hold back a chuckle at the memory of watching her buff partner effectively block home plate like a brick wall against the two-five's obnoxious playboy, Detective Luke Romero. Oh sure, Bry had been rolled ass overhead, but the ball had stayed securely in his mitt and detective "Romeo" was outaa there! "You saved the game for us partner," she said proudly. Bryce's nonchalant shrug didn't cover the cocky swagger as he headed back to the coffee maker. Not for the first time, Gina wondered what in the hell his ex had been thinking to leave THAT! He was a finely put together man. Admittedly Bry had his faults, but most of them were because he cared too damn much. He was the poster Alpha Male with twelve years of Catholic school thrown in for good measure. He was a workaholic and wore his heart on his sleeve. He was fanatically protective of "the women" in his life. Gina was honored to be one of the afore mentioned along with his two teenage daughters, his mother, sister, and even still his ex-wife. She was damn lucky to be his partner. He was a good man and as cliché as it sounded, a good cop. Hearing Captain Carson's door open, she guiltily turned her attention back to the computer screen in front of her. Medical Examiner's Office Manhattan, NY Tuesday, June 3rd Bryce held the protective plastic door strips aside to allow his partner entrance into the autopsy room. The frigid blast of air condition and the eerie silence raised the short hairs at the back of his neck, as always. M.E. Victoria Weiland acknowledged their arrival with a small smile and lifted one elegant finger to give her a moment as she spoke with a man in a white lab tech's coat. Out of habit, Bryce studied him as he waited. In his early twenties, he had zero muscle tone; limp oily hair tucked behind his ears, cold, lifeless, gray eyes, and less color than the stiff on the slab. The addition of multiple piercings, a spiked dog collar around his neck, and the annoying snapping of his gum did little to ingratiate him to the rather old-fashioned former marine. "Relax. He hasn't asked Tamara or Tabitha out yet, Dad," Gina chuckled. Bryce grinned at how transparent he could be to his partner. "Probably not advisable either," he confirmed. They both stepped forward as the tech took his leave and Weiland greeted them warmly, handing a file to Pancamo. "The cause of death was strangulation as surmised on the scene. The beating and rape were pre-mortem. The finger span on the bruising matches our two previous working girls, as do the dental impressions from the bite marks. The fluids confirm we are looking for the same man. That's three working girls in less then two weeks detectives. We may have another Jack the Ripper on our hands." "~ His Pet ~ Chapter Two" |