William Lewis smiled in satisfaction at the sound that was made when he smacked Detective Olivia Benson across the face. As she fell to the floor there was a wet sort of thud and when he pulled her back up in the chair he’d tied her to he could see that the fall had broken skin and there was now a steady stream of blood flowing down her hairline.
It pissed him off that she really wasn’t paying attention to him, though. Not when her eyes kept drifting to the closed bedroom door where her daughter was sleeping. The kid could sleep through a lot. She’d certainly slept through her mother being pistol whipped and the apartment being torn apart. He hadn’t really been looking for anything in particular, but he did have fun going through her things while she was out cold. The things people kept had always had a kind of fascination for him.
The kid didn’t concern him. She was too young to be of much interest to him and even if she’d been old enough to identify him there was little doubt that once the alarm was sounded that Detective Benson was missing her whole squad would know who was responsible.
But now Olivia was awake and she wasn’t paying attention to him. That wouldn’t do.
“Oh, I see,” he said to her as she struggled against her bonds and tried to speak through the duct tape that covered her mouth. “You want to see your daughter - what’s her name again? Hope?” He smacked his lips together. “Such a sweet name for such a sweet little girl.” He stood up fully and grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to gaze at him. “I’m not a monster. I would never try to separate a mother and her child.”
Then he released her and he gloried in the panicked sounds she made as he walked to the closed bedroom door and opened it wide to walk through.
“Well, hello, Hope,” he said to the little girl sitting in her crib. “She looks just like you,” he called over his shoulder, loud enough for her to hear him clearly. “Aren’t you a little cutie.” He reached in and lifted her up into his arms and carried her back out and smiled when he heard her squeal of delight when she saw her mother. The little girl reached for her automatically but he held her in place against him. “Ah, ah, ah, I’m afraid mommy is a bit too busy to hold you right now,” he cooed to the baby. “But that’s okay - Uncle Billy can hold you for a bit.”
Olivia was fighting against her bonds and it only made him happier to see the distress he was causing - even if it still felt like it wasn’t enough.
“Uh-oh,” he said in a sing-song voice, “I think someone has a wet diaper.”
And the mother’s body went completely still and that was it . . . that was the level of fear he wanted to see from her.
“Don’t worry, mommy,” he told her, “Uncle Billy is an old hand at changing dirty diapers.” He whistled as he walked over to the baby bag he’d spotted earlier and set out everything so he could change her diaper. He set up shop right in front of her on the carpet so that she had a perfect view of everything. The whole time she was struggling to free herself and it kept him smiling, kept him whistling and happy.
“You know I never thought about having kids of my own,” he shook his head as he got out the wipes. “Never figured myself for the type. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Not if I had a little girl as sweet as this one.”
The tears coursed down Olivia’s face by the time he finished with the diaper and he held the baby up for her inspection. “All done, mommy.” Once more he held the baby against him and stood up in front of her. “Now, I am going to take the tape off your mouth and I think we both know that you are going to behave yourself, right?”
With wide eyes she nodded her head and he was satisfied when she kept her word. But she still bitched about it.
“Just put her back in her crib. Please, I’ll do whatever you tell me, just -”
He couldn’t help himself so he backhanded her. Without the gun in his hand it didn’t make quite the noise he liked hearing, but it was enough to whet his appetite. It did start the kid crying though.
“Please,” she whispered.
“You know,” he said casually as he bounced the baby in his arms. “The youngest I ever had was maybe about twelve -” he thought for a moment, “I don’t know maybe eleven. I didn’t exactly ask before things got started.”
A steady flow of tears coursed down her face, washing away her makeup and leaving her a pathetic looking mess. It was a vast difference from the defiant look she’d given him earlier in the night. He kind of missed that look. He kind of missed the fight.
“How’s about your mommy and I have a little talk, hey, sweetheart?” he cooed to the baby. “Now, Olivia,” he began, “how about we come to a little agreement, hmm? Now, you and me, we’re gonna take a little trip together.” She opened her mouth to protest but he placed a finger on her lips to quiet her. She was much too docile right now. It didn’t suit her. “We can take little Hope with us or we can leave her here and what happens happens.”
“Leave her,” she says desperately. “Leave her here and I’ll go wherever you want. I’ll do whatever you want.”
It was what he wanted to hear but he still said, “Oh, I think we both know that you’re going to do whatever I want either way.”
“You know, I’m a little surprised with you,” he continued on, “here I thought you were a good mother. But you’d rather let little Hope here die of thirst rather than let me hold her? I’m a little offended. Tell me, Olivia, how long do you think it will be before someone comes to check on you? How long do you think a baby can survive without food and water?” He tsked at her and put on a long face. “But I’ll do you a favor, how about that. How about I make her one last bottle before you and I take off - we’ll see how long that lasts her.”
When another fat tear dropped down her cheek he licked it off.