Chapter Text
Good Ending
Back at the precinct, the officers put out word that Sidney Barlow had been caught.
Amanda was questioning him in the interrogation room, as they waited for him to be taken to Rikers. It appeared as if Barlow was having great pleasure in entailing what he had done to their friend.
Carisi examined the pictures from the evidence locker, leaning against the wall as Amanda questioned Sidney Barlow.
“I asked my ladies whether they wanted intercourse,” Sidney sat back in his seat, eyeing Amanda with fascination, waiting for her reaction, “If they said no, I would not go any further.”
“You taped their mouths shut,” Amanda argued, “They couldn’t say anything.”
Sidney shifted about, trying to get comfortable. “I assume your friend over there is a Catholic,” he glanced at Carisi, “I heard the Italian drawl as soon as he opened his mouth. Well, surely he must have read Leviticus; the rules there say that if a woman does not scream then no rape took place.”
Carisi wanted to smack him. “Leviticus also says that if she a woman couldn’t scream or was not in earshot, it was still rape,” he interjected. Of course, the ancient Hebrews did not understand the concept of ‘fight, flight or freeze’, but it was a start.
Carisi wished that Sidney Barlow would stop talking about rape in regards to religious texts. It was bad enough that some conspiracy theorists believed that Barlow was a Muslim. Barlow wasn’t Muslim, he was obsessed with harems and seemed to relish in the fact that previous eras had considered fourteen-year-olds to be old enough to marry seventy-year-old men.
There hadn’t even been any religious texts in any of his houses. There hadn’t been that many books full stop, for that matter. What they had found in way of reading material was interesting, however.
120 Days of Sodom by the Marquis de Sade. The Collector by John Fowles, a book which quite a few other serial killers had had in their possession. The Handmaid’s Tale, well-thumbed with several passages underlined. Lolita, with misogynistic words hastily scrawled everywhere. A book on the migration and habits of birds, left over from the days when Sidney’s mother was alive.
It was clear for anyone to see that Sidney was obsessed with dominating his victims, using any excuse that he could find to control women, repeatedly punishing his mother.
Barlow now appeared bored. He tilted his head, smiling at Amanda. “Remember what I said, Amanda,” he chuckled, “If you want me to reveal anything about the runaways, prostitutes and homeless, your friend needs to leave.”
Carisi glared at him, but slowly made his way over to the door.
Sidney sat up, folding his hands. “Where shall we start?”
Amanda had identified four victims by the end of the week.
Sally Annie (Judith Allen, a thirty-three-year-old prostitute, 2004) and Caramel Sandals (Erica Bootham, a forty-three-year-old Latina living with her children in a homeless shelter, 2005) had been taken just yards apart in Schenectady. Hogg (Julie Hoggard, a twenty-six-year-old prostitute, 2015) had been taken from Burlington, too high to realise she was being kidnapped. Lucky (Kylie Lyon, a seventeen-year-old runaway, 2019) had been sleeping rough behind a baseball field in Littleton, New Hampshire.
She was getting somewhere. But, in all likelihood, Sidney would stay mum until he wanted something. He wouldn’t release any more names for quite a while.
Amanda thought about Olivia again. Their captain was still in bad shape, weeks after her rescue. Noah was staying with Amanda for the time being and in all honesty, she had no idea when they would be together again.
She didn’t even know if they wanted to go back to Olivia’s apartment. One or both of them might have panic attacks if they returned to live there.
But Amanda knew that Olivia wouldn’t give in. She would not let Barlow ruin her life.
Eleven years later...
“Noah Porter-Benson!” The announcer called out his name as the young man went to collect his diploma.
Noah smiled back out at the crowd. Olivia was there, as was Amanda and Jessie. As he heard everyone clap, he looked over at his mom. She was waving sweetly at him, letting him know that she was proud of her son.
“Thanks, Mom,” Noah told her as they walked back home, “You know that you didn’t have to come.”
“It’s my son’s graduation,” Olivia protested, elbowing him, “I wanted to.”
“But your operation is more important,” Noah pointed out, as Olivia’s seeing-eye cane slipped into the puddles that were practically everywhere.
Olivia stopped in her tracks and looked directly at her son. “The operation can wait a few more months, Noah.”
He sighed, running a hand through his curly hair. “I still worry about you.”
“Come here, sweetie,” Olivia pulled him close and hugged him, “You’re my world and I will always try to be there for you if I can help it.”
Back home, Noah was watching TV while Olivia was pouring iced tea. She bumped into the tray, spilled some of her drink and swore. Placing the cup back on the tray, she turned to her left to examine the mess.
She would never get used to losing her sight. The first few months had been the hardest. Olivia had woken up in bed screaming repetitively. Noah had said at first that he hadn’t heard her, but Olivia knew that was a lie.
Everyone from the squad helped her, coming round whenever they could. Amanda had suggested moving somewhere where there wouldn’t be as many stairs, but Olivia, headstrong as ever, had chosen to stay.
Olivia looked over the collage on the wall. She had started to create it after they had been rescued and she was released from hospital. Photographs and messages dotted the collage, reminding her of Noah’s achievements.
Noah’s first day at high school. Noah having a sleepover at a friend’s house. Noah dressed as Ant-Man for Halloween. Noah on the beach in his flip-flops and standing at a barbecue. Noah taking Jessie to the prom, even if it was just as a friend.
Her phone started to vibrate. Pulling it out of her pocket, she saw that it was Amanda.
Answering it, Olivia heard Amanda say on the other end, “Another of Barlow’s victims has been identified. Rosaline Brooks, 36, White Plains, February 18th 2016. She was a prostitute that he picked up on Westchester Avenue.”
Olivia nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.” Of course, if this woman had been taken to Barlow’s house in Edinburg, chances were that her body would not be recovered. It was only by sheer luck that Heather Lowell and Rosa Woodham’s bodies had been found, a little under a mile and a half from Barlow’s house, wrapped in canvas.
“Liv, are you OK?” Amanda asked.
“Yes,” Olivia replied, “I’m fine.”
When the bodies had first been dug up in New Hampshire, Olivia had kept a list of their names on a piece of paper in her bedroom. She wanted to remember them. She had never met any of these victims, but she wanted to let them know that she would always have them on her mind.
Olivia knew that she had to prepare for the next stage of Noah’s life. He was planning on being a dancer. He was going off to the American Ballet Theatre as soon as the summer ended.
She would be all alone again. The nightmares started when she was alone. It had been a very long time before she could stay anywhere in the dark for a period of time.
Writing Rosaline’s name on the piece of paper, yellowed and crumpled in her bedside drawer, Olivia gave a heavy exhale.
After Heather and Rosa’s bodies had been recovered, it had been nearly six months after Olivia’s ordeal. She had gone to see their families.
Heather Lowell’s daughters Elouise and Pamela had been eleven and ten when she went missing. They were grown women by the time they knew what had happened to their mother. The two girls had been adamant that their mother would never have abandoned them. Even so, it was heartbreaking for them to finally know what had happened.
It was a similar case with Rosa’s nephews. Corey and Carl had been Noah’s age when their aunt went missing. At first they had been told that Rosa had left, since there had been no signs of a struggle at the premises.
Whenever a victim had been identified, Olivia made it her personal mission to tell the families what had happened. They all reacted in different ways. Some had cried in front of her, some had simply nodded and waited until Olivia had left. Every one of them knew that Olivia was the survivor.
Olivia wouldn’t let the media call her the sole survivor. Bernadette had survived, though she didn’t talk very much about what happened, refusing to let what Barlow did be the thing she would be remembered for. Maybe it was because Barlow intended to murder Olivia that the newspapers called the Captain this.
Rosaline Brooks, according to her records, didn’t have anyone. She had been in and out of care her entire life, as had any children she had when working on the streets. The only good photograph of her that had been released to the press was a mug shot. Olivia couldn’t stand it when those were the only good pictures.
But none of Barlow’s victims had deserved their horrible fate. Barlow targeted women because he wanted someone weaker than himself. He was a bully.
Olivia hadn’t managed to sum up the courage to see Bernadette and Rebecca. From what she knew, Bernadette was still living with her family, her former husband released from prison but still slightly unwilling to see any of them. Rebecca was still a shell of what she had been back in 2007; a paranoid woman who looked much older than she was due to an unwillingness to care for herself.
Olivia knew that she would not end up that way. She would be the mother that Noah needed. She would move away from Sidney’s shadow.
Sidney, as with all people who thought like him, wanted control over his victims. Olivia had survived his rapes and torture. If she carried on putting herself into the victim mindset then she wouldn’t win.
She was more than a victim. She would not let being raped define her.
That way Sidney would never win.