The Harvester [omigosh01 & rizzyrat]

"W-where is she?" a lanky man asked the surrounding police officers as he stepped onto the scene. He was wearing a white button-up shirt and gray slacks. A pair of thick black-rimmed glasses covered his eyes and his curly brunette hair laid in every which way, clearly showing the man's disinterest (or lack of skill) in keeping with the latest trends. His name was Nolan Lauer, and he was one of the prime investigators for 'The Harvester’ killings. The policeman closest to him pointed him feebly pointed in the direction of the crime scene and then quickly made for the exit, as if he were going to 'make sick' once he reached the outdoors.

At the moment they were underground, in a subway tunnel beneath New York City and despite Detective Lauer’s request, the mayor had decided that the trains would continue to run during his investigation of the crime scene, and as a result the tunnels were packed with people. He had little to no privacy during his search, and every fifteen minutes or so a light tremor would shake the ground beneath him as another subway train went by. But regardless of his situation, Lauer managed to keep his cool and made his way over to the direction the other officer had pointed out earlier.

As he continued walking he realized that his path was leading toward the women’s bathroom. It was beginning to make sense now how the killer could’ve accomplished such a feat in such a public setting. Lauer thought to himself, 'The man must have captured her while she was in one of the stalls, locked the door, and... and uhm...' The man began to pale at the thought of what went on in the stalls earlier that night.

Once he opened the doors, he was surprised to find that there was no odd stench to be smelled, but it also made sense, seeing as the victim had been dropped in such a public place, she was bound to be found rather quickly, which never allowed her body the proper amount of time to sour.

He walked into the lavatory with hesitance, as if his mind knew that he didn't want to see what lay ahead, but his curiosity egged him on. And so he motioned for the all of the lower level officers to get out before he continued toward the body. He scratched around the base of his brunette hair, trying to grasp every detail of the scene before making an assumption. The only reason that he was not queasy from the sight was because he had been on the same case for several years now, and after seeing the murderer’s first kill the rest of them became less of a shock as time went on. The only person that he ever allowed near him while he went to work was his partner, and that was only because he had too. Nolan was much more of an introverted sort of person, and he often found that his partner's presence was more of a deterrence to him than a benefit.

The lights on the roof of the car she used to get around cast a glare over the streets. The siren she had learned to tune out blared loudly, causing the traffic to part. The woman behind the wheel felt this was a little pointless since the victim was already dead, but of course who was she to complain about the speedy travel time? She turned the car around a corner, seeing her destination in sight. She parked, turning the lights and sirens off. Before she left the vehicle she pulled her long strait black hair into a tight bun, removing her glasses from their case and pushing them up to frame her dark grey eyes. The lit cigarette between her lips was extinguished and she left the car, making sure her gun, badge, and any other item she needed to see the body were on her.

Carmen Stabler walked into the subway station and followed the various other detectives and policemen to the crime scene. Without much spoken word between her and any other person in her way Carmen slipped into the bathroom and made her way to her partner, standing at his side. She examined the crime scene with a grim look and shook her head. "Fit's the motive. It must be him." She said softly, kneeling down to look for evidence that might be harder to see standing. "Who found the body?" She asked, glancing up towards her partner.

Though Carmen was disgusted by what she saw, you wouldn't be able to tell by her tone of voice or facial expressions. She had the perfect mask for the job, showing little to no emotion when faced with a grim sight. She had been called cold, even heartless by others, but her record was a good one, having one of the highest conviction rates in the department. The 'harvester' killings however were her longest open case, lasting a few years now.

"What have we got so far?" She stood once more, pushing her silver, thinly framed glasses up the bridge of her nose. She turned to examine the rest of the bathroom, looking for signs of a struggle, something the killer might have dropped, anything she could use to pin the perp.

All of the muscles in Nolan’s slim frame tightened up as his saw his partner walked through the door. He clenched his teeth with aggravation as she walked closer toward him and began rattling off little notions and questions as if she owned the place. Who did she think she was, Sherlock Holmes? She had only been on the crime scene less than twenty seconds, yet she had already deduced that ‘It must be him.’ The forensics hadn’t even gotten to test anything yet. Shouldn’t she at least consider the idea of a possible copy cat? Nolan just shook his head and looked down at the corpse before replying.

“It was, uhm, Cramer. He was running up the stairwell to get some air, last I saw him.” He wanted to make a joke about how shaken up Cramer looked, but he quickly thought better of it and just kept the thought to himself.

“I’ve got everything under control here if, uhm, if you want to go ask him anything.” Nolan added in a barely audible voice. It was so quiet that one could’ve easily interpreted it as him talking to himself.

He didn’t typically talk like that, though; it was only when he was around her. He was never an obnoxiously loud man, but he wasn’t considered mousy either. No matter what the circumstance, she always made him feel small, even if she wasn’t doing it on purpose. She just had this presence about herself that made Nolan feel like less of a man whenever she was around, and it wasn’t that Nolan was a cowardly man, everyone knew that Carmen wasn’t ‘the typical woman’. Just by looking at her unaffected face as she examined the corpse, one could easily see that she had no heart. She intimidated him, but ironically, he had been on the force longer than her, and even held a higher rank, but none of that mattered when she entered the room. He knew that if he wasn’t careful she would bypass his position any day now. She was strong-minded like that.

Carmen glanced back at her partner while he answered her. She arched one thin eyebrow and glanced towards the door. "Hmm..." She said thoughtfully. She nodded and pulled out one of the thin cigarettes, resting it between her lips. "Alright. If you have it covered then perhaps i will go talk to him." She pulled out her silver lighter and flipped it open, leaving the cigarette unlit. "I'll be right back." She said softly and turned on her heel, leaving the bathroom. Once outside of the bathroom she let out a short breath to release a little tension, tilted her head to the side till her neck cracked then continued to walk outside.

Once outside she flicked her lighter, watching the small dancing flame for a moment before touching it to the cigarette and inhaling deeply. She was perfectly aware of the dangers smoking brought, but her job had taught her that there were far worse ways to die. After a puff or two she moved over to find Cramer. Away from the crime scene she slipped her glasses off. She didn't need them outside of the crime scene.

"Cramer?" She asked around, locating the man as quickly as possible. "I need to ask you some questions about the body." She pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "What can you tell me about the crime scene?" She asked lightly, casting her dark eyes over the man. "Anything seem out of place, other then the body of course." She said softly, trying to keep her tone soft so as not to seem harsh.

A large burst of air wisped through Nolan’s mouth as he gave a sigh of relief as Carmen left the room. After he had heard that her heels were about five clicks away, he kneeled in closer toward the body to get a better look. “Mortencia? Where’s Mortencia, get her in her please.” Nolan ordered with a slightly firm, yet still calm voice.

Not more than two seconds later, a tanned-colored woman entered the bathroom stalls. She was very short, around 5’ 2” maybe, and had a two purples streaks down each side of her jet black hair. She had multiple piercings on her left ear and only one on her right. Her body was completely covered in protective wear, and she quickly cracked open a black box and got to work. She reached out toward the corpse with her latex covered fingers and felt around the woman’s face and jaw line.

“The victim’s muscles are now going through the rigor mortis process. Although I can’t be for sure without further testing, I’d guess that she’s been dead for three to four hours. There’s red spotting around her face and eyelids, that’s often a sign of death by asphyxiation. Bruising around the neck and…” she paused to slightly tilt the victims head, “and behind the head. It looks as if a blunt object was used.”

Mortencia continued to reel off other facts and figures that she found from the victim, while Nolan looked around the room for other signs of evidence.
“I hate to say it,” he started, “but this guy is good. Three years tracking him and he’s yet to make a mistake.”

Mortencia paused and looked up from her work. “You sound as if you admire this guy.”

Nolan looked taken aback, “Uhm, no. No, of course not. I was just stating the facts.”

“Mhmm,” she said as she nodded her head with suspicion, “Well yeah, I guess I know what you mean. Planning something like this, on this sort of scale takes a lot of planning… and a lot of crazy to actually pull off.”

And the Harvester did have quite the MO. He got his name from killing his victims in the same way as the infamous Jack the Ripper, collecting his victims' organs, but instead of slicing his victims throats, he only strangled them. All of his murders occurred on the weekends and very late at night. In all of Nolan and Carmen’s time tracking him, they’ve yet to build up the slightest bit of evidence to even obtain and lead suspect. The Captain was giving them one more month to figure something out, or they would be taken off the case. So to add on to their distaste for one another, the added possibility of demotion made it hard for them to cooperate together.

With little to no help from the others in finding extra evidence, Carmen let out a long, low sigh. She reached behind her and released her hair so it hung down naturally, reaching down to her lower black. Once her hair was freed she ran her hand through it, taking a long drag on her cigarette. Things were getting worse as the body count piled up. There was no evidence to link anyone or anything to the crimes. Carmen could feel the pressure of solving the crimes building up. She was faced with demotion, along with her partner. It was increasingly difficult to deal with everything while having no idea who could be behind the crimes.

Before she had to return to the bathroom She finished her cigarette. She looked around, hoping someone would stand out in the crowd. They often said criminals returned to the scene of the crime. Carmen only hoped that might be possible, And that she might be able to see who was behind these crimes. At this point Carmen would take any lead they could get. Seeing nothing she turned back to the bathroom and slipped inside, keeping a smal distance between herself and her partner.

"Is there any evidence?" She asked lightly. She leaned against the bathroom wall, scanning the walls and floor carefully. Nothing was really ever left behind, but it was worth looking. Eventually the killer would slip up and leave something behind. A hair, a fingerprint, something they could use to nail the guy. Carmen put her hair up once more while she searched, to keep it out of the way.

Nolan was still deep into his search when Carmen walked back into the room. Words cannot describe the feeling that ran through his body when he noticed her at first glance. He had never seen her with her hair down, it was so long. This look was such a change that he wasn’t sure if it was really her until she began to pull her hair back up into her usual drab bun. As soon as her hair was back up her castrating facial features reappeared, and she was back to asking more questions. Nolan quickly shook whatever thoughts he had brewing in his mind and backed away from the scene long enough to address her.

“Not much, but it seems you were right. According to the way that this woman died, it appears that she’s another victim of The Harvester. The MO fits to a tee, even the time of death matches up with his usual ritual. What did you find out upstairs?” Nolan was of course referring to the questioning between Carmen and Cramer. Being the first one on the scene, Nolan was curious to hear what Cramer had found out, if anything.

Carmen glanced over at Nolan with a heavy sigh. "There was nothing." She shrugged, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "He never leaves anything behind. This man is meticulous." She turned and held her closed fist against the wall, leaning forward till her forehead touched the clenched skin. She took a deep breath. She couldn't lose herself now. She had never broken down into any sort of fit during a crime scene analysis. Now wasn't the time to start.

With a few deep breaths and a moment to pull herself together she stood and dusted herself off, returning to her calm, cold demeanor. "So we have decided it's the harvester?" She nodded and shook her head. "We should return to the station. I'm going to go ahead and pull the other files for this case. Maybe there will be something hidden in the case files we haven't seen yet." She sighed.

Carmen turned on her heal and walked out. The stress was getting to her. She had to go and calm herself before she returned to the police station. A cigarette and a quick drive should help, or so she hoped. She slipped into her car and grabbed a cigarette, resting it between her lips while she let her hair down. She only left it up while she was working. About 2 ciggs later and a half hour car ride she pulled into the station parking lot.

She sighed and left her car, brushing her hands through her hair as she entered the building, going to grab the box of files. She set it on her desk and sat down with a sigh, pulling the file for the first victim out and flipping it open.