Chapter Text
Secrets
The 20-something blonde jogger breathed heavily as she ran through the dark street with only the streetlights to see by, calling to the guy behind her, "Hurry up, Mike!"
"Slow down, Cynthia," her husband replied as he huffed and puffed, struggling to keep up with her.
She turned on her heel and watched her dark haired husband finally catch up to her, the orangish hue from the street lamps overhead showing his jogging clothes were stuck to him with sweat.
"We got two more miles to go," she told him.
"Why don't we switch gears and just walk home?" he asked. "It's still 90 degrees out, people die this way."
"Don't be such a big baby," Cynthia said as she turned to the front and wordlessly compromised by shifting down to a speed walk.
"If we gotta get in shape, why don't we just join a gym? At least they got air conditioning," he said as he walked alongside her.
"We did join one, three years ago, you never went after the first time," she reminded him. "Good money wasted."
"What do you suppose the cost for hospitalization due to heat stroke is?" he replied.
Their conversation was suddenly broken up by a sudden noise from nearby, they both stopped and looked around.
"What was that?" she asked.
"I don't know," he answered.
They heard another noise, metal trash cans being turned over, something of that sort, and it was coming from just a few yards down the block.
"Come on," the man said as he took the lead.
Now his wife wasn't so sure. "Mike, be careful."
He stepped up on the curb and saw something sprawled over the sidewalk beside an empty lot. Advancing cautiously, he watched for any signs of movement, and jumped back when he heard the sound of somebody moaning and saw something move in the dark. He was just barely able to make out the sight of an outstretched arm sticking out past the trashcans.
"Oh my God!" he exclaimed as he about knocked his wife down running into her. He turned to her and told her, "Call 911!" He looked back and he could more distinctly see the outline of a person, a man, who had slowly rolled over on his back, and could still be heard moaning faintly.
"What've we got?" Elliot Stabler asked as he and Olivia Benson crouched under the crime scene tape to assess the situation.
A uniform cop on the scene motioned towards the vic on the gurney that the paramedics were getting ready to load in the ambulance and rush to Mercy General, "White male, mid 30s, found by a couple out for a late jog, no ID, no phone, no clothes. Lacerations, contusions, looks like somebody bashed his head in."
"Any signs of rape?" Olivia asked.
"Blood and fluids, and more behind those trash cans, looks like this is where the attack went down," the uni answered.
"Okay, canvass the area, check every trash can, every dumpster, odds are the perp tossed his stuff somewhere close by when he made his getaway," Elliot told him.
"Check for any surveillance cameras," Olivia added, "somebody somewhere had to have heard or seen something."
"On it."
"Did he say anything?" Elliot asked another uni.
"He's barely conscious," he responded, "doubt the paramedics got anything either."
"Okay, so, guy's out here, why?" Elliot asked.
"This isn't heavy drug traffic neighborhood," Olivia said. "Probably wasn't buying or dealing."
"Have to wait for a tox screen to find out if he was using," Elliot said. "Not a lot of cars parked around here, either nobody's home or everybody's in bed, street's pretty empty right now. The people that found him were out for a jog, maybe he was getting some exercise too."
"Detectives," one of the women with CSU stood up and told them, "got more than one semen sample over here."
Olivia and Elliot headed over to take a look.
"Based on the smudges on the ground, I'd say this is where the vic was positioned," she told them, "and as you can see..."
"The stains are on both sides of the vic," Elliot said.
"So either he was raped more than once," Olivia said.
"Or by more than one person," Elliot added. "Or...it's the vic's."
Olivia shook her head, "Those are always the hardest ones to get the victim to press charges. Still takes us back to the original question, what was he doing out here?"
"Detectives," a uniform cop came up to the scene, "we found a phone and a wallet in a dumpster a block away."
"That was almost too easy," Olivia commented.
"Let me see," Elliot said as he took the wallet. He opened it up and grimaced. "Damn it."
"What?" Olivia asked.
"Guy's got a shield."
"He's a cop?" Olivia asked in disbelief.
"No," Elliot turned it over and showed her the badge and the driver's license. "Matthew Casey of the Chicago Fire Department."
Olivia tried to take this information in but wasn't sure what to make of it. "Guy's a long way from home, what was he doing in Manhattan?"
Elliot looked through the wallet and said, "Cash is still here, about $500, got an ATM card, got a credit card...so robbery definitely wasn't on the menu."
"Looks like the perp tried to smash the phone but only cracked the screen," the uni told them.
Olivia took the phone and on the screen, through the spiderweb cracks, she and Elliot were able to make out a picture of the vic standing beside and with his arm draped over the shoulders of a man of slightly larger build with tanned skin and short dark hair that was prematurely graying in parts.
"He's gay?" Olivia asked.
"Maybe he was out here getting a different kind of exercise," Elliot thought.