Dr. Huang looked at each of the forensic photos closely before he taped them to the clear case board that had been wheeled into the conference room.  Normally this type of session would take place in the bullpen, but with a judge involved, discretion was a moral imperative.

 

When he was done, he stepped back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with one hand while he flipped through the case notes in the file.  He glanced up when the door opened and Alex entered, moving to stand next to Cragen at the back of the room while Olivia, Elliot, Munch and Fin were all seated around the conference room table.

 

“So,” He began.  “Here we have a victim in her mid thirties, average build, above average social standing and monetary means, who engages in aberrant personal behavior with homosexual tendencies.  Am I missing anything?”

 

Olivia cleared her throat.  “According to Serra Tate, the ex-lover, Samantha was also obsessive and controlling with some major father issues stemming from an affair that occurred prior to her mother’s death.”

 

“I see.”  Huang stepped closer to the board, allowing his fingers to trail over several of the X marks cut into the victim’s flesh as he leaned his head to one side.  “We’re looking at a serial offender.”

 

Olivia sighed in frustration.  “That was Warner’s take on the condition of the body too but we can’t find anything to substantiate it!”

 

He circled his hand over the photograph, drawing their attention to it.  “These cuts are meticulous, precise.  See how each one is exactly the same length and depth, one leg slightly longer?  These are the marks of a careful predator; one who is doing more than inflicting pain… he’s exacting punishment.”

 

“Punishment?  For what?”  Elliot’s forehead furrowed in confusion.

 

Huang didn’t answer; instead he looked Olivia up and down.  “You’re almost perfect.”

 

The detective’s eyebrow arched.  “Well gee, Doc… I like you too.”

 

The psychiatrist ignored the comment.  “Lay down on the floor.  On your back please.”

 

"I don't like you that much!"  Olivia joked, but did as she was told.

 

“Elliot!”  Huang beckoned him over.  “Kneel down beside her.”  When the two detectives were in the right positions, he continued.  “What happened to Samantha Wainscott was not only painful, but terrifying.  I find it doubtful that she merely laid there and allowed it to be done to her. There were no recent signs of restraints being used on the victim.  The markings on her wrists were several days old but there is bruising that appears to be more recent.  The perp couldn’t sit on her because his body would have blocked the area he wanted to cut.”  He looked at Elliot pointedly.  “If you had to subdue her, knowing those limitations, how would you do it?”

 

The big man looked down at his partner for a moment.  Then he took both of her wrists in his left hand, holding them over his head as he placed a knee firmly across her shins.  It was awkward, but it worked.  Olivia squirmed but couldn’t break free.

 

“Huh.”  Elliot blinked.  “Ok, so this tells us what?”

 

Huang pulled down one of the pictures that clearly depicted the cuts covering the victim’s thighs.  Turning it slightly, he angled it so that the perspective was the same as Elliot’s when he looked down at Olivia.

 

There was a collective in-taking of breath from around the room.

 

Viewed from the new angle, each of the longer cuts was pointing downward.

 

“Crosses.”  Olivia whispered as she climbed to her feet.  “That bastard cut crosses into her.”

 

Huang frowned.  “I’ve seen this type of thing before in other’s suffering from religious psychosis.  The belief is that the cuts allow the evil within the individual to be purged while exacting penance from the wicked.”  He shrugged.  “It isn’t something a first time offender would jump into.  These cuts, as I have said, are meticulous.  That takes practice.”

 

“So you’ve seen this M.O. before?”  Cragen’s voice was hopeful.

 

“Not this one.”  The diminutive man shook his head slowly.  “Usually this type of thing is done to the chest or genitals.  The ME’s report states that they chest was opened but that the skin was intact.  Your guy purposely avoided those areas.  I believe his intent was to rape Samantha Wainscott when he was done with her penance.  Mutilating those areas would have prevented that.”  He pointed to the photo showing the victim’s torso.  “All of this damage was done post mortem.”  He nodded quietly to himself.  “That’s rage.  I think Samantha struggled, causing the perp to cut too deeply, severing the femoral artery, which resulted in her death.  When he was denied the opportunity to complete his purification rite, he enraged, mutilating her corpse as a means of venting his anger.”

 

“What about her face?”  Munch asked quietly.  “What inner need does that fulfill for this psycho?”

 

“That’s a good question.  Shame, maybe? ” Huang shook his head.  “But that doesn’t fit with the sense of entitlement this guy feels.  Not only does he think he’s punishing his victims, he feels that he has the right to do so.  No, the face is something else.  Something…”  He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It’s an incongruous element.”

 

“Now is it just me, or wouldn’t you all think that Samantha would be screaming her head off through all that?”  Fin asked sarcastically.  “I don’t know about you, but personally, I’m of the opinion that pain hurts.”

 

“There was an ENC call.”  Elliot shook his head.  “If the neighbors were used to her ‘activities’, which I’m sure they would have to be after months of using that bench, then the call would have been more out of aggravation than concern.”

 

“Let’s get back to the MO.”  Cragen stepped closer to the board, his eyes hardening as he looked over the pictures.  “You said our guy is a serial offender, but we’ve been through every database we can access and we’ve got nothin’!  How do you explain that?”

 

Huang shrugged.  “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong place.”

 

Olivia’s head shot up, her eyes narrowing as they centered on the board in front of her.  Reaching out, she traced the damage done to Samantha’s face as she whispered, “Rage…”

 

Cragen blinked.  “Olivia?”

 

The detective’s laugh was short and bitter.  “We are looking in the wrong place.  We’ve been looking for bodies.  We should be looking for victims!”

 

Elliot shook his head.  “But even if the victim of a previous attack survived, the MO would still be in the database!”

 

“Unless your perp was a juvenile.”

 

Every head swiveled towards the back of the room where Alex was leaning up against a filing cabinet as she studied the case board intently. 

 

“Come again?”  Fin scowled at her.

 

“All records of juvenile offenses not involving homicide are sealed in the state of New York until such time as the perpetrator is released from incarceration.  At that time the records become available only to court officials handling the reintegration of the juvenile into society.  When the courts are satisfied that the rehabilitation statutes have been met, the records are destroyed or sealed permanently without ever being entered into the national databases.”  She arched one eyebrow at Olivia who was looking at her with a slightly stunned expression on her face.  “You wanted to know how this guy could have slipped through the cracks.  Well, that’s one sure-fire way. Your perp was a juvenile.”

 

“Hang on!”  Elliot raised his hand to interject.  “I’m six foot-two and I could barely manage that hold.  To be tried as a juvenile, we’re talking about a kid that had to be…what?  Twelve?  Thirteen on the outside?  No way could a kid that age manage this kind of attack.”

 

“If he is a previous offender he wouldn’t be a kid anymore, he would be an adult now.  And there’s no way for us to know what the ages and body types of his previous victims were without finding them.  They could have been juveniles as well.”

 

“There’s also another possible explanation.”  Huang tapped the autopsy photos.  “This kind of response to anger and frustration reflects serious psychotic issues including, but not limited to, obsessions and compulsions, tantrums, and impulsive behaviors.  Those are all symptoms of certain genetic disorders that can also include gigantism, a condition characterized by excessive growth and height significantly above average.  Children suffering from these disorders are often unable to control their reactions to outside stimuli.  They are truly at the mercy of their baser nature.”

 

Olivia looked at the ADA hopefully, inserting just a touch of personal into her gaze.

 

Alex looked scandalized.  “I can’t make a blanket request for juvenile records!  Any judge would take one look and see that for exactly what it is: a fishing expedition!  To even consider breaking a seal I would need the name of the original suspect and a tangible link to the current crime!”

 

“What about the… what did you call it?”  Fin looked at Huang expectantly.

 

“Gigantism.”

 

“Yeah, what about that?  Wouldn’t that count as a wild card?”

 

Alex rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath as she tried to hold onto her patience.  “What I need is a name and a victim with injuries consistent with Samantha Wainscott.  Then, maybe, I would stand a chance of getting juvenile records unsealed.”

 

Olivia sighed heavily, running both her hands through her hair before settling them on her hips.  “Okay, fine!  Then our next step is to find a victim.”  She chewed on the inside of her cheek.  “So… if our perp is attacking women in an effort to punish them, and his chosen method is to cut crosses into their flesh, then they would all have to be guilty of something he considered a sin, right?”

 

Huang smiled.  “Last I checked the bible didn’t say anything about bondage.”

 

“Nope.”  Elliot shook his head.  “But it’s got a plenty to say about homosexuality.”

 

Olivia tossed him a sideways look.

 

“Hey!”  He held his hands up defensively.  “I didn’t say I agreed with it, just that it was in there.”

 

Munch and Fin glanced at each other and then at Alex, who suddenly became fascinated with her shoes.

 

“So we contact support groups for the victims of hate crimes.”  Olivia said quickly, drawing the attention back to her.  “As well as all of the Gay and Lesbian Centers in the greater New York area.”  She nodded at Munch and Fin. “If we split those up between the four of us it should only take us, say… forever.”

 

“Start local.”  Cragen growled.  “And hope this creep didn’t wander.”

 

“Hang on a second.”  Huang stopped them all in their tracks as he looked at Olivia expectantly.  “Tell me about the father.”

 

The detective frowned, casting a quick glance at Alex and the Captain as she rethought the scathing words that were about to leave her mouth.  “Samuel Wainscott, district court judge, good reputation on the bench.  He was pretty torn up by both our initial notification of his daughter’s possible homicide and our verification of the body as hers.  Not very supportive of his daughter’s sexual orientation or her chosen lifestyle.”  She pursed her lips slightly, locking her eyes intently with the psychiatrist.  “And not very forthcoming about the family’s financial situation, either.”  She could feel the weight of the silence coming from Cragen and Alex like a physical force and squared her shoulders against it. 

 

Huang nodded.  “I got that from your reaction to what Hansen said about Samantha’s will.”

 

Olivia nodded.  “Samuel Wainscott told us he had no idea that his daughter had changed her will to leave everything to her ex-lover, Serra Tate.  Apparently that was a lie.”

 

“If you choose to believe Hansen over a New York State judge.”  Cragen’s voice was low.  “Why would Sam lie?  What would he have to gain?”

 

“Well…”  Munch pulled on his overcoat, his lip curling slightly in a sarcastic grin.  “That’s the one hundred and forty seven million dollar question, isn’t it?”

 

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Chapter Nine:  Momentum

Monday 04:36 PM

 

Elliot leaned in a little closer to the glass case, his forehead crinkling as he took in the myriad of rainbow stickers, pink triangle pins, and various t-shirts with slogans that ranged from ‘Hate Is Not A Family Value’ to ‘I’m not gay, but my girlfriend is…” Blinking, he shook his head slightly as his eyes settled on another shelf, this one full of what had to be every type of condom and dental dam currently in production.  “One-stop shopping.”  He whispered.  He put out his hand to push open the swinging doors to his left only to have Olivia step in front of him.

 

“Uhm…  no, you don’t really want to go in there, Elliot.”  She laughed as she took him by the shoulders and turned him around.  “Not if you want to be able to look me in the eyes for the rest of the day.”

 

He tried to peek over his shoulder as she led him away, finally giving up when they were on the other side of the room.  He leaned on the counter next to the register.  “What the hell is in there?”

 

Olivia’s eyebrow quirked as humor lit up her eyes.  “It’s called The Toy Shop for a reason, El.”

 

“Ahh.”  He nodded, absently glancing at the jewelry case that was built into the countertop.  He blinked in confusion as he studied one of the silver pieces, not quite able to make out what it was.  It looked like an oddly shaped flower or something, maybe an orchid, the petals curling outwards with a tiny pearl at the top…  “Oh my god!”  He straightened up quickly as his face flamed bright red.

 

Olivia took one look at the piece that had captured his attention and started laughing.  “Come on, partner!  Try to be a little more open minded!”

 

“Open minded?”  He wiped his hand over his eyes, like he was trying to drag the image from his mind.  “Trust me; this has nothing to do with the whole ‘gay’ thing!  If my daughter came home wearing a little silver penis around her neck I’d think she was nuts too!”

 

Olivia snickered at his choice of words but let it go.  She pointed at the case.  “What if it was one of those?”

 

Elliot glanced at her sharply.  “Something you know that I don’t?”

 

“No!”  She laughed.  “I just like to see that vein pop out of your forehead.”

 

“What are we doing here anyway?”  He growled.  “We’ve been to a dozen different support centers this afternoon with no luck, what do you think we’re going to find here?”

 

“Faith.”

 

He stared at her in bemusement.  “Faith?”

 

“Someone callin’ my name?”

 

Elliot turned to see an older woman, probably in her late fifties, with mid length red hair and bright green eyes step out from the back room.  She was tall, nearly six feet, and extremely well put together.  Definitely someone that would still turn heads wherever she went and there was something about the way she carried herself that made Elliot think of the women who starred in the old cop movies he watched as a kid.

 

“Olivia!”  Faith vaulted the counter to wrap the much smaller woman up in her arms.  “Jesus!  How long has it been?”  She released the detective, holding her by the arms as her eyes traveled up and down her body possessively. “My god woman!  And here I thought you looked good in your uniform!  Mmm mmm!  Black jeans, leather jacket and a badge!  Be still my heart!”  She glanced at Elliot quickly before tossing the brunette a sly wink.  “Not that you don’t look best in absolutely nothing at all…”

 

Olivia grinned and shook her head, wry amusement plain in her features as she kissed the older woman on the cheek.  “You never change.”

 

Faith wrapped one arm around the detective’s shoulder.  “Why mess with perfection honey?”

 

“Elliot,” She inclined her head towards the woman at her side. “Meet Faith Dufresne, transplanted Texan and all around bad seed.”

 

“Nice to meetcha.”  Faith pumped his hand firmly before grinning down at Olivia.  “You know the upside of being a sinner named Faith, darlin’?”

 

“Yup.  Nothing better than a joke that don’t need a punch line.”  Olivia mimicked the woman’s accent, earning a slap across her ass for her trouble.

 

“So what brings you to my little den of iniquity?”

 

The two detectives sobered immediately.  “We need your help.” 

 

Faith caught the change in her friend and let her arm drop.  She led them to the back room, pointing them both to chairs situated around her desk.  “What’s going on?”

 

“I looked for you at The Center downtown.” Olivia gratefully accepted a cup of coffee, waiting as she poured one for Elliot as well.  “They said you weren’t volunteering there anymore.  You were there for twenty years, Faith.  What happened?”

 

“Politics.”  The older woman shrugged, a slight note of bitterness creeping into her voice as she answered.  “They got funding from some conservative group that wanted to whitewash our more…shall we say ‘colorful’ side?  Apparently they don’t want the cause to seem quite so wrapped up in sex.”  She snorted.  “Did you ever hear anything more ridiculous?  Considering the only reason there is a cause is because of who we sleep with?”  She opened her desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of Irish whiskey.  After adding a generous shot to her own mug, she raised her eyebrows in question, nodding when the two detectives declined.  “Anyway, I guess my flame burned a bit too bright.  They told me I could stay if I sold the shop.  I told them they could take a flying fuck at a rolling jelly donut!”

 

Olivia shook her head.  “That’s crazy!”

 

“Nah!’  Faith sipped her coffee, smiling in appreciation.  “A minority group becoming intolerant of certain internal factions is just another step in social evolution.  Shows how far we’ve come, and indicates that maybe we overshot the mark a wee bit.”

 

Elliot blinked in surprise causing the two women to laugh.

 

“I may be a heathen Detective.”  Faith winked at him good-naturedly.  “But I am an educated heathen!”

 

“Faith has degree in philosophy from NYU.”  Olivia smiled.  “She just likes to play at being an ignorant redneck.”

 

“And Olivia likes to play with handcuffs.”  Green eyes flashed wickedly.  “Always has.”

 

“Okay!”  The brunette threw up her hands in surrender.  “You win!  I give!”

 

“Yes, I remember.”

 

Elliot laughed out loud as a deep red flush crept into his partner’s cheeks.

 

Olivia glared at her friend.  “Why didn’t you jump to another center?  Not all of them want to stifle the community.” 

 

Faith shrugged.  “I can do plenty from right where I’m at. And I get to do it my way.  I give money to victims groups, advocacy groups, and shelters.  I still help out whenever I can, just on a smaller scale.”  She set her mug down and met Olivia’s eyes.  “So what can I do to help you out?”

 

The detective sighed.  “I need some information about possible victims of a hate crime.  We’re between a rock and a hard place, Faith.  We don’t have a time period or even a general location, but I figured if it happened anywhere in New York you might have at least heard about it.”

 

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll see if this old brain can spit out any pertinent facts?”

 

Olivia reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a photo, hesitating for a moment before passing it across the desk.  The picture only showed the damage done to Samantha’s thighs, but it was still horrifying.  “It’s pretty bad…”

 

Faith opened her desk drawer and pulled out a pair of glasses, sliding them on before holding her hand out expectantly.  “I’ve worked with women who have been raped by their own father’s in an attempt to ‘fix’ them, Olivia.  I’ve had friends beaten and urinated on.  I’m sure I’ve seen worse.”

 

With a sigh, the detective handed her the photograph.  She felt her guts twist when Faith’s lips curled in anger, her normally easy going manner gone instantly.  “Where did you get this?”

 

“The victim was found in her apartment early last Wednesday.”

 

The older woman’s head shot up quickly.  “You mean this is recent?”

 

Olivia frowned.  “Yes why?”

 

“I was wrong; this is the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”  Faith laid the photo face down on her desk.  Taking off the glasses, she rubbed her fingers lightly at her temples.  “But it isn’t the first time I’ve seen it.”

 

Elliot leaned forwardly eagerly.  “You know a woman who was attacked like this?”

 

“Not a woman; three women, all of them lesbians.”  She sat back with a heavy sigh. 

 

“When did these attacks take place?”  Olivia pulled out her notebook.

 

“God, it must have been… ten or eleven years ago?  Jessie, the second one that creep grabbed, she was a regular at the center.  She managed to talk the other two into coming in for counseling once they caught the bastard.  None of them stayed very long, though.  It was hard for them to open up about what that butcher did to them and I never did find out much more about what happened.  For some reason a lot of the details didn’t make it into the papers.   Jessie stayed the longest, but last I heard she moved out of state.”

 

“Can you give me their names?”  She saw her friend begin to close down and hurried on.  “We need to contact these women, Faith.  They’re the only ones that can help us find this guy before he hurts somebody else.”

 

“Why don’t you talk to her?”  She pointed at the photo.

 

“She’s dead.”  Elliot met the older woman’s eyes.  “He’s escalating.”

 

Faith drew in a long breath.  “Jess listed herself as a contact for victim aide.  She wanted to help others who had gone through similar situations.  I can give you her information.  As for the other two…  If they want to disappear, it isn’t my place to help anyone find them.”

 

“Understood.”  Olivia watched as Faith opened a battered leather organizer, flipping through the pages until she found the information she wanted.  She quickly wrote down a name and a California phone number on a post-it note and handed it to the detective.

 

“She called last December to update her information.”  The red head drained the rest of her coffee.  “I hope it’s still good.”

 

“Well, even if it isn’t, we can probably track her down by her name.”  Olivia stood and went around the desk, leaning down to hug the older woman tightly.  “Thank you, Faith.”

 

“Anything for you, darlin’, you know that.”  The older woman grinned.  “How about we have dinner sometime next week?”

 

“Oh, uh…yeah.”  Olivia stammered.  “I’d really like that.  It’s just… well…”

 

Faith laughed out loud, waving her hand at Olivia in dismissal.  “Bring her with you.  Anyone who’s got Olivia Benson that tongue tied is someone I have to meet!”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

“So…”  Elliot smirked at his partner as they drove back to the precinct.  “You two seem close.”

 

Olivia brushed her hair off her forehead absently.  “If there’s something you want to know, Elliot, just ask.  Of course, whether or not you can handle the answer is something else altogether.”

 

“She’s very...”  He scratched his neck, trying to find the right word. “Striking.  Were you two…?”

 

Olivia smiled and looked out the window.  “Once upon a time.”

 

“Really?”  His eyebrows tried to crawl off his forehead.  “She seems a bit too old for you.”

 

“Yeah?  Well, she was a lot younger fifteen years ago.  I met Faith on my first trip to The Center.”  The detective smiled fondly at the memory.  “And she’s older, but not too old.  She taught me a lot.”  Olivia raised one finger at him in warning.  “Trust me; you want to let that go without asking.”

 

Elliot laughed as he pulled the car into their designated spot.  He followed Olivia into the bullpen, going for coffee as his partner sat down and picked up the handset on her phone. 

 

Olivia carefully punched in the numbers from the post-it note, silently pleading with the universe to give them just one frigging break on this cluster-fuck of a case.

 

Her prayers were answered when the other end was picked up on the fourth ring, a strong female voice echoing in her ear.  “Hello?” 

 

“Yes, hello.  May I speak to Jessica Reed, please?”

 

“This is Jess.  Who is this?” 

 

“Hello, Ms. Reed.  My name is Detective Olivia Benson. I’m with the New York City Police Department.”

 

The voice on the other end snorted derisively.  “So what is this like a courtesy follow up call? Because I already heard the good news.”

 

Olivia blinked in confusion.  “I beg your pardon?"

“You’re calling about that psycho getting out of FenBrooke right?”

 

“FenBrooke Psychiatric Facility?”  She looked up at Elliot as he sat on the edge of her desk.  “Ms. Reed… Jessica… if we can just take a step backwards, that would help me out a lot.  Who exactly are we talking about here?”

 

“Peter Kinkaid!”  The woman snarled.  “The freak that ruined my life.”

 

Olivia wrote the name down quickly.  “Jessie, we’re currently investigating the murder of a woman who might have been attacked in the same manner that you were.  Can you please tell me what happened to you?”

 

“What happened to me?”  The words were repeated bitterly and Olivia knew she was losing her.  “What happened to me was that I lost my girlfriend, my job, my sense of well-being.  That bastard took everything from me and what did they do to him?  Absolutely nothing. Not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect.  I’ll remember those words for the rest of my life.”  Her breath hitched.  “No jail time.  He tortured and raped me and those two other girls and all they did was send him to that country club of a hospital.  And you know what the kicker was?”  Jessie spat.  “They tried him as a juvenile!  Said he was thirteen or something.  My ass!  That bastard was nearly six feet tall!  Judge said he didn’t deserve to have his whole life ruined over his ‘misdeeds as a confused youth’.  What the fuck is that about?  What about my life?”

 

Olivia rubbed the back of her neck.  She could sense Jessie’s anger and bitterness was about to cause her to spiral out of control.  If they didn’t get the answers they needed soon, the woman would end the call and they would have to start all over again when she had calmed down.

 

And they did not have that kind of time.

 

Her only option was to try and push the victim’s buttons, make her angrier and see what shook loose.  It was a tactic she normally avoided at all costs, but she didn’t see any other way to get the information they needed quickly.

 

“Ms. Reed!”  Olivia inserted a hint of irritation in her voice.  “I have a killer on my hands that may or may not be the same individual who attacked you.  I am sorry about what happened to you, and those other two girls, but the particulars of your court case do not interest me.  I need to know what happened during the attack.  I know it was a long time ago, but I need to know what you remember.”  She winced at the harshness of her words, not meeting Elliot’s questioning stare.

 

“What I remember…?  You want to know what I remember?”  Jessie’s voice sounded incredulous.  “I remember the way he smelled, the ways his hands felt on me.  I remember how calm he was, like what he was doing was the most normal thing in the world.  I remember the way he pinned me down, how he ripped off my clothes.  But you know what I remember most of all?  His voice.  His dead, flat, monotone voice and the way he kept saying the same four words over and over again like it was some kind of prayer.”

 

“What words?” 

 

“Thy will be done.”  The woman began to sob.  “I still hear it, in my sleep.  I wake up screaming.  Do you know how many times he repeated those words? Forty times!  Do you know how I know that?”

 

“How?”  Olivia whispered.

 

“Because he said it right before he cut into me each time!  Right before he carved each one of those little fucking crosses into my legs!”  Jess screamed.  “And every time my lover touches them I hear those words again!  You call me up, after your fucked up system let the bastard out and you ask me what I remember?”  Her voice suddenly became very quiet.  “I remember wanting to die, detective.”

 

“Ms. Reed, I am so sorry-“

 

“Don’t call here again.”

 

The line went dead before Olivia could complete her apology and she hung her head for a moment, silently finishing the words in her head and heart.  Then she dropped the handset back into the cradle and stood up.  “We’ve got what we need.  Let’s call Alex.”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Monday 08:13 PM

 

Olivia tossed a twenty to the driver and pushed the cab door shut, shoving her hands in her pockets to ward off the late evening chill as she looked up at the building in front of her.  She hesitated for a moment, almost deciding to climb back into the taxi and call it a night, but the short screech of the cab’s tires as it lurched back into traffic signaled the loss of that option.

 

She didn’t understand why she was so nervous.  There had been a cease fire called and the ‘peace talks’ that had followed had left no uncertainty that the war was over, at least for the moment.  A vivid memory pushed its way to the front of her mind; one of pale honey-toned skin, slick with sweat, sliding deliciously against her as stiff, dusky pink nipples pressed into her thighs.  She couldn’t help the grin that split her face or the strong flush that colored her cheeks.  Anyone walking by would probably think she was a lunatic but at that moment, lost in that particular memory; she really didn’t give a damn.

 

A fat drop of moisture landed on her overheated skin and Olivia looked up, grinning ruefully as the New York sky opened in a deluge that quickly soaked her to the bone.  For a few minutes she just stood there, smiling up at the sky like a fool.  Then the cold sank in.

 

Shivering, she ran for the protection of the awning that spanned the entrance to Alex’s building, tunneling her fingers through her hair to shake the moisture from it once she was safely out of the pouring rain.

 

Well, at least now I have an excuse to go inside.

 

Olivia sighed.  Why did she feel like she needed an excuse? 

 

They hadn’t discussed the ramifications of what had happened between them, and they certainly hadn’t made any plans past the activities of the previous day, but the connection she had felt, that she was still feeling, was more real than anything she had ever experienced before.  She couldn’t imagine that Alex wasn’t aware of it too.

 

The ADA had been all business when they had spoken earlier, listening carefully to the information Olivia and Elliot had discovered about Peter Kinkaid.  When Olivia was finished, Alex assured her that even if a judge didn’t think it was enough, she would be able to push it through; although it would take her until the next morning to actually get her hands on the files.  Her tone had been brisk and officious, but there was a moment right before they hung up when Alex had paused; a quiet intake of air the only sound audible over the phone line.  When she finally spoke again, there was a breathless quality to her voice that made Olivia’s pulse race.  All she had said before hanging up was ‘goodnight, Olivia’, but the detective couldn’t shake the feeling that she had meant to say something different altogether.

 

Feeling slightly ridiculous for skulking around outside Alex’s apartment building, the detective pushed through the glass doors, waving at the security guard stationed inside.  “Hey Dave.”

 

“Good evening, Ms. Benson.”  He discreetly glanced down at the clipboard on the desk in front of him, checking to make sure she was still on the list.  “Did you want me to ring Ms. Cabot and announce you?”

 

Olivia smiled.  It was good to know that the building was safe.  “No, that’s okay.  She’s expecting me.”  At least, I hope she is…

 

He tipped his hat to her as she stepped into the elevator. 

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Alex tore her gaze away from the television, her lips quirking as she pondered who might be knocking at her door at half past eight on a rainy Monday evening.  She grabbed up the remote and quickly changed the channel, trading Women’s Murder Club for a documentary on Nova.  She might be able to get away with claiming professional interest in the show, but she definitely preferred that her obsession with dark-haired, dark-eyed detectives remain a secret.

 

Even if there was something about that Lindsay Boxer character that was strangely familiar.

 

Walking over to the door, she glanced out the peephole and felt her heart jump painfully in her chest when deep amber eyes smiled back at her from the other side.  Flipping the locks, she pulled the door open, the question she was about to ask dying in her throat as she took in Olivia’s bedraggled appearance.

 

“What happened to you?”  She stepped back, waving the detective into the apartment, trying not to laugh when her boots squeaked loudly on the marble tile of the foyer.  “Don’t tell me you were out walking in this weather!”

 

“Not exactly.”  The brunette smiled, pulling off her leather jacket and handing it to Alex who hung it on the rack next to the door. “I was a little slow at the curb, got caught in a freak downpour.”

 

“Olivia, it started raining fifteen minutes ago.  I don’t think it takes that long to get across the sidewalk.  What the hell were you doing?”

 

The detective stared at her for a moment.  “Thinking.”

 

Alex raised one eyebrow, her lips quirking adorably.  “You stood in the rain in front of my building for fifteen minutes….thinking?  Thinking about what?”

 

Olivia took a deep breath.  It was the moment of truth.  “About you, about whether or not I should come up.”  She began to tremble as the cold water soaking her clothing turned her skin clammy.  “We didn’t exactly talk about any of this before I left this morning.”

 

The ADA took in the strong, normally taciturn woman who stood in front of her shivering and felt herself fall a little farther.  The familiar panic rose in the back of her throat and she shook her head to try and chase it away.  She knew Olivia wanted answers, answers about what they were to each other and where this might be going, but that was a conversation she hadn’t been expecting to have, and definitely one she wasn’t prepared for.  “Liv…” She bit her bottom lip.  “We need to get you out of those clothes before you catch pneumonia.  Come on.” 

 

Alex took the older woman by the hand and led her down the hall to the bedroom.  She dug through the drawers of her bureau until she found an over-sized t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Tossing them on the bed, she went into the bathroom to grab a clean towel from the rack by the heater, stopping dead in her tracks at the sight that greeted her when she returned.

 

Unaware of her audience, Olivia pulled off her t-shirt, dropping it into a sodden pile on the bedroom floor before wiggling her way out of very snug jeans.  The ADA watched, transfixed, as the gorgeous detective’s hips swung from side to side, each inch of wet denim slowly sliding further down the strong muscular thighs she had traced with her fingertips the night before.  When she was done, Olivia was wearing nothing but the bra and panties she had borrowed that morning; both of them stretched tightly across her more generous frame. 

 

Alex felt a familiar ache begin in her lower abdomen; a liquid heat that coursed through her veins, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up and her stomach to flip pleasantly.  She slid the tip of her tongue across her lips, wetting them repeatedly as she breathed deeply through her mouth.

 

Olivia glanced over her shoulder, her eyes darkening to an almost impossible shade when she saw the desire evident in the lawyer’s features.  A small smile curled the corners of her mouth as she turned, offering Alex a view of hardened nipples protruding from nearly transparent silk.  “Did you want your clothes back?”  She asked playfully.

 

Tossing the towel over her shoulder, Alex crossed the room quickly, not stopping until she could feel the detective’s breathe wash over her cheek.  She raised her hand, running her fingertips lightly over Olivia’s chilled skin, tracing the edges of the fabric that strained against the rapid rise and fall of the older woman’s chest.  “They’re wet.”  Alex whispered as her fingers made quick work of the bra clasp before sliding down to hook beneath the elastic band of the panties.  She kept her eyes locked with Olivia’s as she slid the wisp of fabric down her thighs, not breaking the gaze even when she needed to bend slightly to push it all the way to the floor. 

 

Olivia stepped out of the silk, feeling a smooth hand slide around her hip and up her side as Alex rose.   The blonde paused to take an aching nipple between her lips for one teasing moment before releasing it to drape the warm towel around the detective’s shoulders.  Quietly, Alex began to tousle her hair, soaking up the remaining water from the dark locks before pulling the towel down to gently rub the moisture from her skin.  When Olivia’s hands came up and began to unbutton the pajama top she was wearing, Alex smiled gently, allowing her to finish before leaning in to whisper, “Turn around.”

 

Olivia felt her stomach drop as a wild spark of electricity shot up her spine.  Swallowing, she turned slowly, reaching out with one arm to steady herself against the headboard as her weakened knees threatened to give out on her. 

 

Alex cocked her head to one side, making small sounds of appreciation as she ran the towel down Olivia’s smooth olive-toned back.  The detective’s skin was unbelievably soft and she could not resist following the path of the towel with her own bare palm.  As she traced the small of Olivia’s back down over the swell of her buttocks, she gave up any pretense of drying her skin and pressed into her tightly, fitting the older woman’s backside into her groin as she pressed hardened nipples into the sensitive skin beneath her shoulder blades.

 

Olivia threw her head back as hands snaked around her side to cup her breasts, her body beginning to rock instinctively as sharp teeth bit into the tender skin at the back of her neck.  “Jesus…”  She hissed as she tightened one hand on the headboard, raising the other over her shoulder to curl her fingers firmly around the back of Alex’s head.  “Harder…”  She begged.

 

Alex hesitated for a moment and then increased the pressure on Olivia’s neck.

 

The brunette trembled wildly as the pain from the younger woman’s bite sent a rush of adrenaline through her.  It collided with the pleasure coming from the warm fingers stroking her nipples and she pushed back harder, grinding herself against the warm body behind her.

 

Alex groaned loudly and slid her right hand down over Olivia’s belly, brushing quickly through the short patch of auburn hair to slide into the wetness between her thighs.  The brunette bucked under her touch, whimpering as she stroked her fingers firmly, gliding them over the small bundle of nerves at the top of her cleft.  She could feel Olivia shaking, could feel her entire body shuddering as her head rolled back to rest on her shoulder.  Alex watched the older woman’s face intently, taking in the deep flush of her cheeks, the lower lip she held between her teeth and the tightly closed eyes.  She knew in that moment that Olivia trusted her implicitly and that knowledge caused a sharp spasm of pain in her chest followed by a warmth she didn’t dare define. 

 

On the heels of that came a hunger so desperate that it almost frightened her.  Quickening her fingers she pushed harder against Olivia’s back, rubbing her nipples against soft skin as she whispered her need urgently.  “Come for me, Liv.”  Her voice broke as the normally stoic detective began to come apart beneath her touch.  “I need to feel it…”

 

Olivia inhaled sharply as her body convulsed; the softly whispered words enough to push her over the edge she had been balanced on since Alex had first touched her.  For long moments there was nothing but intense pleasure and tightened muscles, slick skin and heated lips pressed against her throat.

 

When she could focus again, Olivia found herself kneeling on the floor with Alex wrapped tightly around her.  Turning, she tucked her face into a long, elegant neck as her hands slid inside the blonde’s open shirt to stroke lovingly down her back.  “My God, Alex…”  The throatiness of her own voice startled her.  “What the hell do you do to me?”

 

The younger woman didn’t answer, didn’t move her lips from where they were buried in Olivia’s hair, but the detective could feel the beating of her heart and smiled.  She pulled back to look into blue eyes made bright by tears.  Swallowing, she used her thumbs to brush them away before laughing gently.  “You’re still dressed.”

 

Alex smiled.  “My clothes aren’t wet.”

 

Olivia’s eyebrow arched wickedly as she slid her hand inside the lawyer’s sweat pants.

 

“Liar.”  She whispered.

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

“Hey hon?”

 

Stretched out on the couch, Alex blinked rapidly as she looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen.  For a moment, she couldn’t respond as her brain processed the fact that Olivia had just called her ‘hon’.  “Uhm… yes?”

 

“Did you want the red or the white?”

 

Her higher thought processes kicked in and she remembered why Olivia had detoured to the kitchen.  “The merlot would be nice.”

 

“Coming right up!”  Olivia appeared a moment later carrying two long stemmed glasses and the requested bottle of wine.  She set her burden down on the living room table before climbing onto the couch, nestling her knees between Alex’s thighs and laying the length of her body on top of her.  “Hey you.”

 

Alex smiled.  “Hey back.”

 

Their lips met in a tender kiss, filled with passion but kept gentle by the soreness left over from their previous activities.  When they broke apart, Olivia laid her head on the blonde’s chest, enjoying the steady beat beneath her ear.

 

“I can’t believe you own this shirt.”

 

Alex frowned in confusion.  “What are you talking about?”

 

The detective sat up; tugging at the bottom of the t-shirt she wore as she read it upside-down.  “’What’s the difference between a lawyer and an onion?’”  She began to laugh.  “’You cry when you cut up an onion.’  What the hell?”

 

“Munch gave me that for Christmas last year.  I guess cop humor and lawyer humor doesn’t really mix.”  Alex shrugged.  “He told me to be happy I wasn’t getting one for every day of Hanukkah.”

 

Olivia grinned and poured them both a glass of wine, handing Alex hers before leaning her back against the blonde’s chest.  Alex’s free arm came up and circled loosely around her waist, eliminating the tiny bit of space that had been left between them.  There was something so wonderful about being held by this woman, which was hard to explain considering that snuggling had never been high on her list of things to do after sex.  Usually her number one goal was making a clean getaway, or showing her guest to the door. 

 

With a sigh of pure contentment, Olivia slid her wine glass back onto the living room table and curled up against her lover.  Feeling safe and happy, she fell asleep almost immediately.

 

Alex looked down at the woman in her arms, the fingers of her left hand idly stroking soft brown hair as she sipped her wine.  She felt her heart ache as Olivia sighed in her sleep and knew there was no way she could keep on pretending that this was any less than what it was.

 

But then, if she was really honest with herself, how she felt about the detective had never been in question.

 

The real problem was how she was going to handle it.

 

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Chapter Ten: Countdown

Tuesday 09:41 AM

 

Olivia looked up from her coffee, smiling innocently at Alex as she walked into the squad room. She tried not to think about what they had been doing together just a few hours earlier, but the ADA’s slightly raised eyebrow and careful wink put a fast end to her willpower.

 

The nap on the couch had been wonderful but short lived; and she had awoken to find gentle hands cupping her breasts as fingertips stroked across her nipples.  She had ended up straddling the blonde’s waist, her head thrown back, calling out Alex’s name loudly as skillful fingers curled deep inside her.
 
Most people wouldn't have noticed the tiny twitch at corner of her mouth that the memory caused, or the slight trembling of the fingers on her right hand.  But Elliot wasn't most people.  He threw a smirk in Olivia’s direction as he pointed to the thick set of files the ADA had carried in with her.  “Is that what I think it is?”

 

Alex grinned.  “Yes, the case files for one Peter Kinkaid.”

 

“Oustanding.”  He pointed to the conference room.  “Everyone’s back there.”

 

True to his word, Fin, Munch, Huang and Cragen were all waiting for her arrival.  Alex set the files on the table and separated them into two stacks.  “Criminal.”  She handed the first set to Olivia.  “And psych.”  She passed the second to Huang.  “I hope they’re worth it, because I had to tap dance to get them.”

 

“You had to lap dance?”  Munch asked hopefully, earning a heated blue glare for his trouble.

 

Olivia placed her set of files on the table and flipped open the covers, sliding victim photos and police reports across the table as she quickly scanned through them.  “All three victims were in their late twenties to early thirties?”  Her eyebrows rose.  “It says here that Peter Kinkaid was charged at age twelve.  How is that possible?”  She dug deeper into the folder, finally finding the photo she was looking for.  “Jesus…”  She flipped it around so the rest of them could see it.  It was a fully body shot of Kinkaid standing against the wall as they took his mug shots.  The height markers behind him showed him at five feet eleven inches.  She ran her finger down the arrest report.  “This kid was nearly six feet and weighed two hundred fifty six pounds at the time of his arrest.  And he hadn’t even hit puberty yet!”  She squinted at the page.  “His med report says the prison doc diagnosed him with… Sotos Syndrome?”

 

“That would explain it.”  Huang had stopped going through his files and was staring at Olivia intently.  “Sotos syndrome is also known as cerebral gigantism.  It’s a rare genetic disorder characterized by excessive physical growth.  It usually presents during the first three years of life.  The disorder can be accompanied by mild mental retardation, delayed motor, cognitive, and social development, and speech impairments.  Children with Sotos syndrome tend to be large at birth and are often taller, heavier, and have larger heads than normal.  They develop unusual aggressiveness or irritability, and most also suffer from behavioral problems. The behavioral issues can include attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and obsessive or impulsive tendencies. Problems with speech and language are also common; affected individuals often have a monotone voice.”  He quirked his lips thoughtfully.  “With proper therapy, the condition lessens as the child grows older and eventually the excessive features are not so pronounced.”  He reached out and took the photo from Olivia. “In this kid’s case, that didn’t happen.”

 

Fin pointed to a page he had been reading.  “Says here Kinkaid’s dad died when he was ten years old.  The old man refused treatment after a car wreck, said it violated his religious principles.  Kid went into foster care after that.  Group homes, he was never placed.”

 

Huang nodded.  “If the father wouldn’t accept medical care for his own injuries it follows that he wouldn’t allow it for his son.  The testing for Sotos is costly and time intensive.  I doubt a group home would even bother.  They would just see him as a troubled kid that was big for his age.  Especially…”  He opened his own file and scanned for a date.  “Ten and a half years ago.  If you think foster care is bad now you should hear the horror stories about it back then.”

 

“So that puts Kinkaid at… twenty-two years old, give or take a few months?”  Elliot nodded towards the files on the table.  “Where is he now?”

 

“You mean where was he?”  Alex said flatly, slipping on her glasses as she read from her notepad.  “Up until three weeks ago Peter Kinkaid was a guest at FenBrooke Psychiatric Facility in Brooklyn where he was sent after being found not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect.  His original sentencing called for him to be held in the maximum security wing until such time as he was deemed fit to be released into general.  From that point he would have years of additional therapy before his release would even be considered.”

 

Huang shuffled through his papers.  “All I see here are the initial psych reports and evaluations from Kinkaid’s arrest.  Where are the files from FenBrooke?”

 

“I wish I knew.”  Alex frowned sharply.  “Those records were ‘misplaced’ sometime after Kinkaid’s last competency hearing.   I have clerks searching both the courthouse and the hospital.  As soon as they find them I’ll have them delivered here.”

 

“Great!” Elliot growled.  “So all we have to go on is a bunch of bullshit from a decade ago?”

 

“Not quite.”  Olivia held up a court order she had found at the bottom of the stack, handing it to Cragen who scanned it quickly.

 

“Sam?”  The shock registered on his face and in his voice.  “Sam was the judge that put Kinkaid away?”

 

Elliot glanced at Olivia, seeing the question in her eyes.  “Then why didn’t he mention the similarities between the attacks?  If he presided over the original case he had to know.”

 

“He never saw the body.”  Cragen frowned at their incredulous looks.  “Sam might be a friend, but I’m still a cop and this is still a murder investigation.  The body had already been identified through DNA and whether I like it or not he was considered a person of interest.”

 

“He didn’t fight to see her?”  Munch grunted skeptically.  “His own daughter?”

 

“He’s a judge!  He understands procedure!”  The Captain drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.  “In any event, at least now we have a motive.  Sam put Kinkaid away for over a decade.  When he got out, he couldn’t get to him so he went after his daughter.”

 

Elliot watched his partner shift uncomfortably and knew she still had her doubts but followed her lead and said nothing.

 

“That’s a nice bow but we still don’t have a package to wrap it around.”  Fin growled.  “That ain’t gonna help us find Kinkaid.”

 

“That won’t, but this might.”  The ADA tore a sheet of paper from her pad.  “I managed to get the services director at FenBrooke to give up the address of the assisted living complex Kinkaid moved to when he was released.”

 

Cragen smiled at her.  “You just gave us a place to start.”  He glanced at Huang.  “What can you tell us about this guy?”

 

The psychiatrist looked up from the file he was engrossed in.  “Hmm?  Oh, right.  Well, we’re talking about a person who’s suffering from a dissocial personality disorder; someone with a marked proneness to blame others for his actions, or the ability to rationalize the behavior that brings him into conflict. This was more than likely a side effect of Kinkaid’s genetic disorder.  It would have been compounded by the constant influx of religious rhetoric from a fanatical father figure.  It would also explain his choice of targets and the religious aspects of his attacks…”  His voice trailed off as she looked at the photos of the previous victims.  Then he turned and looked at the pictures of Samantha taped to the case board.  “How many crosses did he cut into each of his victims?”

 

“Jessica Reed told me forty.”  Olivia read through the reports from the other two.  “Forty and… forty.”

 

“And Samantha Wainscott?”

 

“Forty.”  She raised her eyebrows.  “What’s the significance?”

 

“To him?  Everything.”  Huang nodded absently.  “There are a handful of numbers that commonly reoccur throughout the Bible, while other numbers generally do not occur at all. Many religious groups believe their usage and grouping to be too ordered and consistent to be considered irrelevant or incidental.  One of these is the number forty.  It rained for forty days and forty nights as a punishment upon humanity.  Moses did not eat for forty days and forty nights as he communed with God before descending from the mountain with the ten commandments.  Jesus was in the wilderness for forty days, tempted by Satan and set upon by wild beasts.  In all of these instances, the number forty represents a penance served before a permanently life altering event.  Kinkaid must have translated that into her personal purification rite, using the forty crosses to excise the evil from his victims; in this case, their sexual orientation.”

 

“That still doesn’t explain what he did to Samantha’s face, or her hands.”  Munch pointed to the photo depicting the damage done to the victim’s fingertips.  “What is that?  Shame?”

 

The psychiatrist shook his head slowly.  “No, shame would manifest itself in different ways.  If he was ashamed of what he had done he would have tried to hide it in some way; at the very least he would have covered her body with a blanket.” He tapped a photo.  “There’s one hanging on the back of the couch right there.  No, your guy isn’t ashamed.  In fact, he feels entitled.”  He crossed his arms in frustration.  “The fact that he cut away the parts of the body that are most commonly used in identification indicates a desire to keep his relationship to the victim hidden.”

 

“Which follows,” Cragen interjected.  “He might be smart enough to know he would be the prime suspect in death of Sam’s daughter.”

 

“So he’s smart enough to take her face, teeth and fingertips, but dumb enough to kill her in her own apartment?”  Olivia’s eyebrows rose skeptically.  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“The doc did say that the… whats-it syndrome could come with mild retardation, right doc?”  Fin frowned when he didn’t get an answer.  “Doc?”

 

But Huang wasn’t paying attention.  He had moved closer to the picture of Samantha, studying it for a moment before he reached back and picked up the photograph of Jessica Reed’s injuries.  He held them up side by side.  “When you first got to the Wainscott crime scene, did you notice anything unusual about the cuts on her legs?”

 

“They were brutal.”  Olivia glanced at the photographs, her eyes widening.  “The bone.  You could see the bone in some of the cuts.”  She splayed the other photos of the original three victims out in front of her.  “The rest of these, you can’t see anything.  Either the cuts weren’t deep enough or there was too much blood.”

 

“Exactly.”  He pointed at the wound Warner had flagged as the cause of death.  “This is deep, deep enough to cut the artery but still not as deep as the rest.  It has to be one of the first.  The others were done after Samantha bled out; that’s why there was no blood to obscure the bone.”

 

“And all this means what?”  Munch asked sarcastically.  “That we should be happy she was dead before he disfigured her?”

 

“No.”  The psychiatrist looked at him gravely.  “It means he wasn’t able to fulfill his needs with Samantha and the resulting frustration enraged him, which is why he eviscerated her.  It also means you have a sexual predator out there driven by ritualistic impulses who wasn’t able to complete his last rite successfully.”  He dropped the pictures back onto the table.  “He’s going to be looking for another victim.  And now that he’s escalated… there’s no telling if he’ll be able to stop himself from going that far again.”

 

The room was quiet as the ramifications of the Huang’s statement sunk in. 

 

When he finally spoke, the Captain’s voice was low.  “We need to move on this fast, people.”

 

“One last thing.”  Huang tapped his pen against the photo of Jessica Reed.  “The police never found the knife, did they?”

 

Elliot grabbed up the detective’s notes.  “No, they didn’t.  How’d you know that?”

 

The psychiatrist pointed at the case board.  “Take both set’s of photos to your ME.  I’ll bet you anything that she’ll tell you the wounds are identical.  Kinkaid hid that knife before he went away, and he went back for it as soon as he got out.  He never intended to stop.”

 

“I’ll take your word for it, doc.”  Cragen looked at Alex.  “We need a warrant-“

 

The ADA smirked, cutting him off by pulling the blue jacketed document from her briefcase and holding it up in front of her.

 

“I love you more every day.”  He gave her a small grin and turned to his detectives.  “You four get over to Kinkaid’s apartment, take CSU with you.  Turn the place upside down if you have to, but find something that will lead us to this whacko. I’ll get started on the LUDS and financials.  Move it.”

 

“I’ll be at my office if anyone needs me.”  Alex picked up her briefcase and made her way through the bullpen.

 

“Hey!”

 

She turned around to see Olivia trotting towards her. 

 

The detective grabbed her gear from the coat rack, pulling on the jacket but pressing the scarf into the lawyer’s hands.  “It’s still raining,” she said simply, squeezing the fingers hidden within the tightly knit fabric.  She met Alex’s eyes for one brief, intense moment before following her partner and the other two detectives out the door.

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

 

Talbot Assisted Living Complex

12:57 PM

 

 

Olivia pulled the drawer she was searching further out from the desk, reaching beneath it to slide her hand across the unfinished bottom.

 

“What is it you think you’ll find down there?”

 

She looked over her shoulder at the property manager, a tall thin man in his late twenties named Jake Walton.  He had followed them up to Peter Kinkaid’s fifth floor apartment after they presented him with their search warrant and proceeded to watch them avidly as they went through the place inch by inch.  From the fascinated look on his face, she figured his interest was more self-indulgent than job related.

 

“You never know until you look.”  She slammed the drawer shut.  “If we’re keeping you from your duties…”

 

“Oh, not at all!”  He shook his head quickly.  “I should probably be here, just in case the tenant has any questions when he gets back.  So… how come you guys aren’t dusting the place for prints?”

 

Olivia rolled her eyes.  “Fingerprinting is an identification process, Mr. Walton.”  She smiled sweetly.  “We already know who lives here.”

 

“Oh.”  He seemed to deflate slightly.  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

 

“Tell me something?”

 

Walton’s eyes lit up.  “Of course!  Anything I can do to help!”

 

She heard a snort from behind her and knew that Elliot was laughing under his breath.  “What kind of security you got here?”

 

“We have guards stationed at all entrances and exits, residents have to sign in and out and all guests must be announced before they can access the upper floors.”

 

“Can you do me a favor?”  The detective tried not to cringe when the young man’s face filled with excitement.  The guy was like a puppy dog.  “Can you get us the records on when Peter Kinkaid signed in and out for last Tuesday and Wednesday?”

 

“Sure, I’ve got that right here!”  Walton pulled a PDA out of his back pocket and quickly tapped the request into the screen.  “All of our processes are completely computerized and can be accessed by the management through our Wi-Fi system.”

 

“Of course they can.”  Olivia rolled her eyes; so much for getting the guy out of her hair.

 

“Kinkaid signed out Tuesday morning at eight thirty and signed back in at ten that night.”  He blinked.  “Huh… it’s exactly the same for Wednesday.  But then, the guy is like an automaton.  He goes out, he comes back, he goes out, he comes back; same times every day.  He never talks, never makes any noise.  I’d swear there was no one even in here most nights.”

 

“And you’d probably be right.”  Elliot commented.  Olivia turned to find him standing next to the open window, his arm pulling the drapes back to reveal the black fire escape that led down to the alley below.  “You got cameras down there?”

 

The property manager shook his head.  “Front and back and all the common areas, but not the alley.”

 

Her partner snorted.  “Real tight security there.”

 

Walton bristled slightly at his tone.  “Hey, this isn’t a half-way house.  None of the people here are even on probation.  This isn’t that kind of facility!”

 

Olivia turned in a circle.  The place was fairly nondescript; simple furniture, heavy duty carpeting, bland white paint.  The only thing that seemed out of place were the numerous posters that had been carefully tacked to the walls; each of them a glossy depiction of different seascapes.  “Exactly what kind of facility is it then?”

 

“T.A.L.C. provides fully furnished and stocked apartments, from the furniture right down to kitchen utensils and basic food stuffs.  In addition we provide on site Emotional Health and Wellness Teams, Living Adjustment Counselors and work placement support.  We also have a full management and cleaning staff on hand twenty-four hours a day.”

 

“I see.”  She picked up a stack of mail from the living room table, flipping through it quickly, discarding the junk mail before dropping the items addressed to Kinkaid into a half full box at her feet.  “And who decides who gets to live here?”

 

“We’re completely funded by Fresh Start.  It’s a charity organization dedicated to helping serious juvenile offenders become productive members of society.  They prescreen potential clients in conjunction with the juvenile facility review boards and decide who gets to come here when they’re finally released.”

 

“So basically it’s the Ritz for criminals smart enough to start young.”  Munch commented as he passed by on his way to the kitchen.  “Instead of community service he gets maid service… some guys have all the luck!”

 

He pushed through the swinging door to find his partner emptying an overhead cabinet of water glasses.

 

“What are you, thirsty?”  Munch smirked.  “I think I saw a forty in the fridge.”

 

“Ha ha…”  Fin slid the last glass forward, his eyebrow shooting up in surprise when something small and heavy dropped from the cabinet, bounced off the counter and slid under the table.  “Ha!”

 

Dropping down on all fours, he fished the item out, holding it up to the light.

 

“What the hell is that?” 

 

“It’s a key, genius!”  Fin snorted.

 

“Yeah, I can see that, but it looks weird.”

 

“It is weird!”

 

“What’s weird?”  Olivia stepped into the kitchen, followed by Elliot.

 

Fin held the key out, dropping it into her gloved palm.  She took it between her fingers, holding it carefully by the edges. 

 

It was heavy, about three times the weight of a normal key, with a thick head made of some kind of strong black resin circled by green bands.  The shaft was smooth, with no teeth cut into either side.  Instead there were two channels dug into the flat surface, the bottom of each ground down at various gradients; above the channels, near the top of the shank were three deeply cut circles.  She flipped it over and saw two tiny screws in the head, holding it together.

 

Something about it was familiar and Olivia’s forehead furrowed as she hefted the key in her palm, trying to draw out the memory of where she had seen something like it before.  Suddenly it hit her.  “This is a CLIQ key!  Alex has these locks on her apartment!”

 

Munch looked at her curiously.  “And how would you know what kind of locks our Lady of Teflon has?”

 

She could see Elliot laughing quietly in the background and shot him a dirty look.

 

Taking pity on her, he stepped forward and took the key, examining it closely.  “What’s so special about this thing?”

 

“It’s electronic.”  Olivia explained.  “There’s a computer chip in the head that syncs up with the lock.  Without it the tumblers won’t release.”

 

“Sounds rich.”  Fin grunted.  “The locks on this place got ‘Kwikset’ stamped on ‘em.”

 

“Yeah.”  Elliot dropped the key into an evidence bag.  “This is the kind of thing you’d find on an upscale apartment like Cabot’s… or Samantha’s.  There was no forced entry before her attack.”  He handed the bag to Olivia to add to her box.  “The surface is too rough for a print but there’s a serial number engraved on the side.  Security companies usually keep pretty good records; maybe they can tell us who bought the key.”

 

“I think we’ve got everything of interest here.”  Olivia slid the lid onto the box and sealed it with evidence tape, scrawling her initials, the date and the time across the seams before handing it off to Elliot with a smile.

 

“How come I always have to do the heavy lifting?”  He complained.

 

 She smirked.  “How come I always have to do the heavy thinking?”

 

Munch raised his hand.  “Can I volunteer for the heavy petting?”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

01:30 PM

 

The Captain had the phone pressed to his ear when Olivia stuck her head into his office.  She mouthed an apology and began to retreat, but Cragen shook his head, waving at her to come in.

 

“Sam, we’re doing everything that we can do.”  He ran his hand over his face.  “I know that Sam, but just because Serra has the most to gain doesn’t automatically make her the best suspect!”  He ground his teeth together.  “No.  No, I can’t do that and you know it.  You’re going to have to wait for an official release.”  He nodded as Munch and Fin joined her, setting the box of collected evidence on the edge of his desk.  “Sam, I have to go.  I’ll call you tomor-“ Cragen pulled the phone away from his ear as the sound of the other end being slammed down echoed faintly.  Sighing, he dropped the receiver back into its cradle.

 

Olivia looked at him sympathetically.  “Problems?”

 

The Captain shrugged.  “He’s a victim’s father and a judge.  That means he’s grieving and he knows all the tricks we use to stall for time; never a good combination.”  He pointed at the box.  “What do you have?”

 

“All the bills and correspondence we could find.  The place was pretty clean.”  She popped the top off the box and pulled out an evidence bag.  “Fin found this key hidden up in a kitchen cupboard.  It’s part of a pretty high end security system.  Elliot’s on the phone with the manufacturer trying to get some info off the serial number.”  She dropped the bag back inside the box and pulled her notebook from her back pocket, flipping it open. “The assisted living center is funded by something called Fresh Start.  They’re the ones that decide who get’s in and this place has got to have some kind of waiting list.  It’s pretty upscale for rehab.”  She began to tick off items with her finger.  “Maid service, job placement, mental health counselors, on-site management and security.”

 

“The security logs show Kinkaid was in his apartment at the time of the murder, but there’s an unsecured fire escape right outside his window.”  Munch added.  “I think it’s pretty safe to say they have no idea when he was home and when he wasn’t but he tends to make a show of signing in at ten p.m. every night.”

 

Cragen pursed his lips thoughtfully, looking up when Elliot entered the office.  “Anything?”

 

“Oh yeah.”  The detective nodded.  “They have records on the batch that key came from and get this; they do all the installations for their hardware.  According to the rep, he can tell me exactly what apartment building that key was issued to; he just won’t do it over the phone.  He wants a face with a shield behind it before he’ll give it up.”

 

“He isn’t asking for a warrant?”

 

“Nope.  Apparently they stake their reputation on a close working relationship with law enforcement.  He’s fine with providing generic information to us.  But he did say that I would have to go to the specific building manager if I needed anything beyond that.”

 

“All right.  Elliot you take some pictures of the key down to their offices, and then follow up with Sammy’s apartment manager if we actually caught a break and it’s one of her keys.  Munch, Fin, I want you two up in the crib.  You’re on Kinkaid’s building at nine so you better rack out now.”

 

“What about me?”  Olivia asked.

 

“You’re going to go through everything you brought back from the apartment and dig into that charity, Fresh Start.  Also,” He slid a foot high stack of files towards her.  “This is you too.”

 

“What the hell is it?”

 

“Ten years worth of bank statements.”  Cragen smiled.  “We got his financial records.  It looks like Kinkaid had a saving’s account when he went in.  They issue statements whether or not there’s been any activity so you’re going to need to sift through these and see if there’s anything relevant.”

 

“Great.”  She smiled sarcastically.  “Paperwork.”

 

“You got off lucky!”  Fin groused.  “I gotta look at this ugly mug all night.”  He jerked his thumb at his partner.

 

Munch clapped him on the shoulder.  “If you’d rather be looking at my ass, just say so…”

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

02:42 PM

 

An hour later, Olivia was engrossed in Peter Kinkaid’s financial records when Fin came in, shaking the rain from his overcoat.

 

“I thought you were supposed to be sleeping?”

 

“I had to cancel some plans I had going on later.”  He shrugged.

 

“The kind of plans you have to grovel in person to get out of?”  Olivia grinned at the scowl he threw her.  She was still laughing when one of the desk sergeants walked into the bullpen and handed her a thick transmittal envelope.  She signed for it and nodded her thanks before turning back to the other detective.  “You better hit the rack before Cragen sees you.”

 

“I’m getting ready to head up to the crib now. Pretty boy’s already there.”  Fin nodded at the envelope.  “What’s that?”

 

She tore open the flap and slid the contents onto her desk, turning her head to read the memo on top.  “Oh!  It’s Kinkaid’s release records.  About damn time!”  She flipped the manila folder open eagerly, thumbing through the official reports. “Looks pretty routine.  Psych reports, case studies, and doctor recommendations.  Listen to this: ‘Patient shows minimal improvement in social interaction and cognitive reasoning.’”  She ran her finger down the page.  “This report was dated two months ago.  It’s Kinkaid’s last progress assessment before he was released.  Not exactly a glowing review.”  She continued flipping through the pages, pausing briefly when she came across several crudely drawn images of boats and beaches.  “Huh…”

 

“What?”  Fin looked over her shoulder curiously.

 

“You remember the posters at Kinkaid’s apartment?”  She handed him the drawings.  "He has a thing for water.”

 

Fin snorted.  “This is New York, Liv.  That ain’t gonna help us much.”

 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”  Olivia shrugged and went back to flipping through the pages until something else leapt out at her.  Turning back a page, her eyes scanned down the document until she found what had caught her attention.  “Jesus,”  she breathed.

 

“What now?”

 

“The judge who authorized Kinkaid’s early release?”  Olivia turned the folder so that it was facing him.  “Samuel Wainscott.”

 

Fin’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead.  “So Daddy signed her killer’s walking papers?  That’s gotta be more than a coincidence!”

 

“Yeah I know.  The Captain’s convinced Kinkaid doubled back, took out Wainscott’s daughter as revenge for having him locked up all those years… but it feels like more than that.”  Olivia tapped her pen against her forehead.  “Wainscott may not have seen the body but there was still some info leaked to the press.  He had to recognize at least a few similarities between those first three girls and his daughter.  Now we find out that he was the one who released Kinkaid from FenBrooke and he didn’t even bother to mention it to us?”

 

“That’s pretty shady.”

 

“But Wainscott just doesn’t make any sense as a suspect.”  She frowned.   “He knew Sam changed her will, so killing her got him nothing…”

 

“But?”

 

“But I can’t shake the feeling that he was involved somehow.”  She looked at the stack of paper on her desk.  “And the answer is here somewhere.  It’s staring us in the face and we keep missing it!”

 

Fin placed a hand on her shoulder.  “Relax!  Stressin’ yourself ain’t gonna help the situation. Maybe you’re too close.  Why don’t you take a break for a few?”

 

She shook her head stubbornly.  “Elliot’s still running down the property management from Samantha’s building, trying to see what he can dig up on that key, and I need to keep going through the crap we got at Kinkaid’s apartment.  You go ahead though.”

 

“Alright.  I’ll be up in the crib if you need me.”

 

Olivia nodded absently, already forgetting the other detective as she dived back into the mountain of paperwork.

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

04:06 PM

 

Fin yawned loudly as he made his way down the stairs to the squad room below.  He was halfway to his locker when he realized that Olivia was not at her desk.  He glanced around the bullpen, finally catching sight of her through the conference room window.  She was talking quietly on her cell phone with what could only be described as a big goofy-ass grin on her face.

 

He looked at his watch.  It was just after four in the afternoon, and if he was smart, he would grab the Icy-Hot from his locker and head back up to the crib as he had originally planned. 

 

But some things were too good to pass up, even if it meant he would be cranky as hell sitting outside of Kinkaid’s apartment later that night.  So he poured them both a cup of coffee instead, taking the mugs over to Olivia’s desk where he perched on the edge and waited for her to get done with her phone call.

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

“So am I going to see you tonight?”

 

Olivia tried to keep the smile out of her voice as her fingers gripped the phone a little tighter.  “I don’t know.  Do you want to see me tonight?”

 

There was a soft laugh from the other end of the line.  “It’s a little late to be playing hard to get, isn’t it?”

 

“And here I thought you liked a challenge.”

 

The laughter in Alex’s voice grew louder.  “Trust me Liv, when it comes to you, things will always be a challenge.”

 

The detective faltered for a moment, sensing more in that comment than a casual joke. 

 

“But then,” The ADA continued quickly.  “I guess that’s part of the Benson charm.  In answer to your question -yes I would very much like to see you tonight.”

 

The smile returned full force.  “Okay.  I’ll come by your place when I get out of here.  But I have to warn you, I don’t know when that’ll be.”

 

“As usual…”

 

“Like you’re any better! You work almost as many hours as I do!  The only difference is you do it in a suit!”

 

“No, the difference is I do it unarmed.”

 

“You use your wit, I use a gun.  I’d say we’re both armed.”  Olivia couldn’t pinpoint why she suddenly felt so uneasy.  “Besides, I’m a cop.  And the gun is sexy.”

 

There was a long pause before Alex finally responded.  “It isn’t the only thing.  Get out of there as soon as you can.  I’ll be waiting for you.  My state of undress will be directly related to how long you make me wait.”

 

Olivia swallowed; a warm flush creeping through her abdomen as the line went dead.  Damn, that woman knew how to flirt.

 

She snapped her cell phone shut and headed back to her desk, only to pull up short when she saw Fin sitting on it.  She ran a hand down her face, trying to drag the smile from her lips before she brushed past him, knocking him lightly on the shoulder.  “What, do you miss your teddy bear or something?”

 

Fin curled his lip at her.  “My shoulder was acting up so I grabbed the rub from my locker.  Saw you on the phone and thought I’d see how it was going.”

 

Olivia grinned. “Surprisingly well, actually.  I went through all of Kinkaid’s bank statements.  The account was opened by his father the year he was born, with a one hundred dollar deposit.”  She spread several statements out on her desk, pointing to the information as she explained.  “There was an additional one hundred dollar deposit made every year for the next ten years.  After that there was nothing; no activity at all except for the annual interest payments on the eleven hundred.  Until…”  She pointed to a statement dated that month.  “A ten thousand dollar deposit made the week before Kinkaid was released.”

 

“Does it say where the money came from?”

 

Olivia shook her head.  “No, but I doubt he cashed out an IRA.  It was a direct deposit.  I already requested the transaction information.”  She looked at her watch.  “We still got an hour before the banks close and with any luck the info will get here the same time as dinner.”

 

“Dinner?”  He looked at her hopefully.

 

“Elliot’s bringing back subs from Nardo’s.”  She held up her hand.  “I already called in the order, deal with it.”

 

Fin glanced around the bullpen before staring at her suspiciously.  “What’d you get me?”

 

“That veggie wrap thing you love so much.”

 

“Damn, girl!  If your partner sees that I’ll never live it down!”

 

Olivia shrugged.  “Then man up and order meatball like I do.”

 

“They give me heartburn.”  Fin rubbed his chest as though to emphasize his point and then snorted sarcastically.  “Besides, when’s the last time you actually ‘manned’ up, Liv?”

 

She stared at him, eyes wide, as she tried to think of something to say.

 

Fin let her off the hook with a wink and a smile.  “You ain’t the only detective around, you know…  You been floatin’ on air for days and that was a booty call if I ever saw one!”

 

“That still doesn’t mean…”  She trailed off, turning in circles as Fin tried to move behind her.  “What are you doing?”

 

“Checking to see if there’s something stuck to your ass.”

 

“What?  Why?”

 

“’Cause Cabot couldn’t take her eyes off it this morning!”

 

Olivia dropped her head into her hands.

 

“Hey.”  He squeezed her arm to get her attention.  “Who you slam with is your business; long as she makes you happy.”  When she looked at him gratefully, he yawned to cover up his own embarrassment.  “I’m going back to my bunk.  I know I’ll probably see you here in a couple hours anyway.”  As he stood up, a file that had been under his ass slid onto the floor.

 

Olivia scooped it up, frowning in confusion.  “Where did this come from?”

 

He shrugged.  “It was there when I sat down.”

 

She flipped it open.  “It’s from Morales; printouts from Samantha’s laptop.  It must have come in while I was…”  She flushed slightly. “…on the phone.”

 

Fin grinned.  “Whatever.  I got a date with a snoring Jew.  Seeya.”

 

“Wait a minute!”  She grabbed him by the arm.  “Look at this.” 

 

“What?”

 

“It’s an email that Morales pulled off of Samantha’s computer.  It looks like… an itinerary.  Samantha booked the Preston Industries corporate jet and registered a flight plan with La Guardia…”  Her eyebrows rose.  “…for last Monday.  According to this she was supposed to be in Miami all of last week.”

 

“Guess she missed her flight.”  Fin glanced at Olivia, falling silent when he noticed the look on her face.  He could almost hear the gears turning in her head.  That meant that any minute…

 

“He killed the wrong girl.”

 

Fin blinked.  “How’d you get that?”

 

Olivia handed the paper to him absently as she began to pace back and forth.  “This itinerary is only for Samantha.  The reservation at the hotel in Miami, it’s for one person.  Anyone who saw this email would assume that Samantha wouldn’t be in town…”

 

“But Serra would.”  He finished for her.  “And Wainscott would have been copied on any corporate emails, like one involving the company jet.”

 

“So he gets Peter Kinkaid out of FenBrooke on early release and sends him to Samantha’s apartment to take care of the woman he thinks has corrupted his little girl.  Kinkaid’s juvenile record is sealed so the details of his former crimes are practically undiscoverable and even if he did leave DNA there would be nothing to match it to.  It was perfect.”  She shook her head.  “Except that he didn’t know Samantha and Serra had split up.  He just assumed that Serra would be there, living off his family’s fortune.”

 

“But Sam canceled her trip last minute; stayed home to knock boots with Captain Kink instead.”

 

“And it cost her her life.”  Olivia shook her head sadly.

 

“So why did Daddy Warbucks pony up the info he had on Tate?  He’s a judge; he’d have to know that it’d look suspicious.”

 

“I think he panicked.  His plan went south and he had to find a way to shift the blame; to keep our attention focused on Serra.  I’m guessing he figured with her background and the money she stood to inherit, it would look worse for her than for him.  That’s why he was pushing the Cap on the phone earlier, too.”

 

“So you think he was playing down the line.  If he couldn’t dead the girlfriend, he’s gonna try and make her take the fall for Samantha’s murder?”  Fin scowled.  “That’s pretty thin, Liv.”

 

She nodded absently.  “Most frames are.”

 

“You gonna hit up Cabot?”

 

“I don’t suppose you want to do it?”

 

Fin‘s eyes widened and he brought his hand up quickly to cross himself.

 

Olivia scowled.  “Are you even Catholic?” 

 

“No. But with Cabot every little bit helps.”  He faked a shudder, calling back over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs up to the crib.  “You’re talking about labeling a friend of hers as an accomplice in his own daughter’s murder?  The woman may be hot, but she’s scary hot!  You’re on your own!”

 

Olivia laughed as she flipped open her cell phone and hit speed-dial one.  “Elliot?  Hey, what did you get on that key?”

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

04:32 PM

 

Alex looked up from her desk, unable to contain the smile that lit up her face when a brief knock was followed by Olivia poking her head into her office.  "Hey you," she said, leaning back in her chair.  “I didn’t think I was seeing you until later.”

 

“Hey.” The detective returned her smile.  “Do you have a minute?”

 

“For you?  I have two.”  She crooked her finger in Olivia’s direction, tilting her head up as she looked at her expectantly.

 

Olivia bent down and pressed their mouths together, humming softly in appreciation as her tongue reached out to gently taste the sweetness of her lover’s lips.  She nuzzled Alex’s nose for a moment when they finally broke apart, her eyes half closed as she breathed in the other woman’s scent.  “Damn, you smell good.”

 

“Mmmm… so do you.”  Alex traced her fingertips over Olivia’s mouth as she licked her lips.  “Taste good, too.”

 

The detective felt her body temperature start to rise and stepped away, taking several deep breaths in an attempt to tamp down the passion that was already burning inside her.  When she had it mostly under control, she turned to face Alex, finding the blonde watching her curiously.  “I need to talk to you… about the case.”

 

Something in Olivia’s tone, or possibly her body language, informed Alex that she wasn’t going to enjoy this particular conversation.  She leaned forward in her chair, going from playful to professional in the blink of an eye.  “Alright, what’s on your mind?”

 

“Alex,” Olivia hesitated, her mouth opening and closing as she tried find the best way to say what needed to be said.  “I believe that Samuel Wainscott was involved in the death of his daughter.”

 

The ADA’s face went stony.

 

Okay, so maybe the blurting method wasn’t the best approach.

 

“Just hear me out.”  She laid the file she was carrying on the desk.  “I know you think Kinkaid murdered Samantha to get even with Samuel for locking him up, but we got the release records today.”  She flipped open the folder. “Alex… Wainscott didn’t just put him away.  He was also the judge that signed off on Kinkaid’s early release.”

 

The ADA paled slightly as she read the signature but she still shook her head.  “That doesn’t mean anything, Olivia.”  She pushed the file away with her fingertips.  “The sentencing judge is often asked to make the final determination on the fitness of a juvenile offender for societal reintegration.  It’s standard procedure.”

 

Olivia flipped to another page.  “What about this?”  She pointed to a bank statement.  “Ten thousand dollars transferred into Kinkaid’s accounts right before the murder.  We haven’t back tracked it to the source yet but you and I both know the chance of that being a coincidence is less than zero.  Kinkaid came up through the foster system.  He has no living family, no one to give him that kind of money.  It’s a payoff.”

 

Alex set her jaw in a grim line.  “You don’t even have a name yet, and you’re so sure it was Samuel.  Are you listening to yourself, Olivia?  I know he’s an intolerant bigot, but he is an honest judge and a good father…”  Her voice trailed off as the detective pulled a small plastic evidence bag out of her pocket, dangling it in front of her so that she could see the key inside.

 

“I know you’ve seen one of these before.  We found it in Kinkaid’s apartment.  There was no damage to Samantha’s door, no forced entry.  That means that Kinkaid had a key.  This key.”  She laid it on the desk as she continued speaking softly.  “It has a chip in it, Alex, just like the key to your apartment.  This particular chip is keyed to the electronic sensor built into the lock on Samantha’s door.  Insert the key and the sensor reads the chip, releasing the tumblers and allowing the key to turn.  A duplicate wouldn’t work and an original would only be available from the management company of Samantha’s building.  According to them, this is one of the original three provided when the apartment was sold.”

 

Alex blinked rapidly, her anger warring with the unease that was growing inside of her.  “It just doesn’t make any sense, Olivia!  Even if everything you’re saying is true, it doesn’t change the fact that Samuel Wainscott loved his daughter!  He would gain nothing from her death!”

 

“You’re right.”  Olivia nodded.  “But she wasn’t the one who was supposed to die.”  She pulled the flight plan from the file and laid it in front of the ADA.  “Samantha wasn’t supposed to be there… but Serra was.  And while Sammy’s death got him nothing, Serra’s would have been the solution to everything.”  She watched as Alex scanned the evidence in front of her, going over every possible explanation in her head and always ending up with the same results.

 

“Does Cragen know?”  She whispered.

 

“Not yet.”  Olivia slid everything back together and closed the file.  “I needed you to buy into it first.”

 

Alex slumped back in her chair.  “I always considered him a good judge… a good man.”

 

The detective knelt beside her.  “If this job teaches you anything, Alex, it’s that anyone can fall from grace.”

 

The blonde’s face went rigid.  “I guess I’m living proof of that.”

 

Olivia looked as though she had been slapped.  She had to fight to keep her voice steady.  “What are you saying?”

Alex sighed, her features sad but resolute.  “I’m saying that this was a mistake, Olivia.  We are a mistake.  I'm an assistant district attorney having an illicit affair with a female detective in my squad; hardly the actions of an upstanding member of the judicial system.  I don’t know what I was thinking...”  She laughed bitterly.  “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

The detective looked down at the floor, trying to get her emotions under control.  “I’m in love with you.”  The declaration wasn’t anything close to how she had imagined it, but that hardly seemed to matter at this point.

The ADA’s eyes widened, her lower lip trembling slightly.  Her body shifted almost imperceptibly towards Olivia before she drew in a deep breath, shuttering her emotions away behind the cold stare she used in the court room.  “That’s irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant?” The detective stopped short, her voice dropping to a low growl.  “Then why don’t you tell me what the hell is relevant?”

“A good man let his personal life bleed over into his professional one and this is the result:  A gross abuse of power that lead to the death of an innocent woman.  That’s what happens when you blur the lines that are meant to keep us in check.  You lose perspective.  I won’t let that happen here.  Not to me.”

Olivia felt her temper flair.  “You ‘won’t let that happen here’?  I hate to tell you this Counselor, but it already has happened!  You’re the one who’s always saying you can’t un-ring a bell?  Well, considering you’ve been inside me I’d say this bell’s been pretty well rung!”  She took a deep breath, trying to rein in her anger and only succeeding in causing it to multiply exponentially.  “You know,” she said quietly.  “I have had a lot of different opinions about you since we first met.  At our worst, I thought you were a snob, a bitch, and maybe even a Republican; but I never ever thought you were a coward.  Until now.”

Alex stood, picking up her files and slamming then into her briefcase, her face impassive.  “It’s your investigation Olivia, and I will back you in every way that I can.  However, I will caution you to be very careful how you proceed, because if by some chance you are wrong, we’ll all end up paying for your mistake.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for a meeting.”  She turned and walked out of the office.

Leaving Olivia behind to wonder what the fuck just happened.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

05:08 PM

Elliot was emptying two large bags of take-out when Olivia walked into the bullpen.  He held up a sandwich wrapped in white butcher paper, waving it in her direction.  “Hey, Liv!  I know you wanted meatball, but they were out so I got you pastrami instead.”

“Well, isn’t that just perfect?”  She snapped, slamming the file she was carrying down on her desk.  “Did they bother to tell me when I called that they didn’t have meatballs?  No!  They just let me assume that everything was all right until the last fucking minute!  What the fuck is wrong with those guys?  Why didn’t they just tell me?  I’m a big fucking girl, Elliot!  I can deal with the fact that I’m not getting meatballs!”

Stabler blinked in confusion before glancing over at Munch and Fin who were both standing perfectly still, paused in mid chew, as they stared wide eyed at the fuming female detective.  Setting the sandwich down, he took his partner gently by the arm.  “Come here.”

“What?  I have work to do; I don’t have time to discuss the finer points of lunch meats with you, Elliot.”

Biting his tongue, he increased the strength of his grip, dragging her into an empty conference room and shutting the door.  With gentle force, he pressed her down into a chair and then pulled up another to sit across from her.  “Okay, so you want to tell me why you just melted down over pastrami on rye?”

Olivia took in the concern showing plainly on his face and swallowed the sarcastic remark that was on the tip of her tongue.  Sighing, she brushed her fingers through her hair and tried to ignore the stinging in her eyes.   “I think… I think I just got dumped.” 

Elliot rocked back in his chair, his upper lip curling in anger.  “That was quick.”  He put his hands on her knees and squeezed lightly.  “What the hell happened?”

She shook her head.  “I wish I knew.  One minute we were fine, and the next she was walking out on me, talking about how she had lost her perspective and that we were a mistake that she couldn’t afford to make.”

“So it was all about her career?”

“That’s what she implied but… I don’t think it’s that simple.  It’s not like we’ve been particularly discreet.”  She raised her eyebrows.  “I mean seriously, the walls in her office are only so thick… even if it was a Saturday.”

Elliot’s mouth went dry and he couldn’t stop the small leer that quirked his lips.

Olivia rolled her eyes.  “I’m being serious here, El.”

“I know, I know.  I’m sorry.”  He put on his best conciliatory expression, the one that always worked on Kathy when he had managed to wedge his size thirteen into his mouth sideways.  “For what it’s worth, I think she’s a fool.  I mean c’mon, you’re the catch of the day!”

She glared at him.  She knew he was trying to get her to laugh but it wasn’t going to work.  “Can the lesbian jokes okay?  I don’t think it really had anything to do with the gay aspect at all.”

“So what do you think spooked her?”

“I don’t have a clue.  She just… shut down on me.”

“I hate to say it Liv, but what did you expect?  I told you that woman was a block of ice.  I’m surprised your tongue didn’t stick to her.”

The comment was just outrageous enough to have the desired effect.  Olivia snorted with laughter as she growled at him.  “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot.”  Elliot smiled as he tossed an arm around her shoulder, giving her the one armed 'guy' hug their relationship allowed.  “So what are you going to do?”

“Me?”  She rubbed the tears from her eyes with a knuckle, grateful when her partner looked away.  “I’m not going to do anything.  We are going to catch this killer.  Everything else is just going to have to wait.”

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

06:37 PM

Alex unlocked the door to her apartment and walked inside.  She was stopped dead in the foyer by the scent that washed over her.  She closed her eyes, feeling her heart falter painfully as her body reacted on reflex, taking in a deep, heartbreaking breath.

It was sweet but understated, like the subtle scent of a flower she couldn’t quite remember, laced through with an undercurrent she didn’t think she would ever forget. 

She dropped her briefcase and her keys onto the floor as she stumbled down the hallway, the rainwater from her hair running into her eyes to mix with her tears.  When she reached the bedroom, Alex realized it probably wasn’t the best place to be.  The mix of Olivia’s perfume and the unique scent they created when they loved each other was stronger here, held in reverently by windows shut against the downpour outside.

Images of the night before, of that morning, tore at her from inside her heart and mind.  She crumbled onto the bed, pulling her soaked jacket more tightly around her to try and ward off a coldness that had nothing to do with the weather.

It wasn’t supposed to hurt this badly.  It was supposed to be better… than the alternative.

But it wasn’t.  She couldn’t believe that anything could cause her to hurt more than she did right at that moment.  And it was her fault.

It was all her fault.

My god… what have I done?

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

07:30 PM

Olivia ran a hand across her eyes, trying to wipe away the tiredness that was making the words in front of her blur.  They had issued a BOLO as soon as she had swum back in from the deep end and every cop in the city now had one eye open for a monster lurking in dark.  Unfortunately, in New York City, it was sometimes hard to tell one monster from the next.

She and Elliot had then proceeded to go through every scrap of paper they had on Kinkaid, trying to find a trail that would lead them to wherever he was hiding.  So far, they had nothing.

“Come on!”  She complained, slamming the file in front of her shut.  “This guy is King fucking Kong!  Really, how many places are there where he could blend?”

Elliot shrugged, puffing out his cheeks as he exhaled slowly.  “I don’t know, Liv.  It’s like he’s a ghost or something.”

“Not a ghost.”  She stood up and stretched, walking over to the coffee station.  “More like an eyesore that everyone walks around without really seeing?  He’s there, but no one ever looks directly at him.”  She held up the pot in a silent offer, shrugging when Elliot shook his head no.  “I think people want to ignore him.  I would… If I weren’t a cop.”

“Did you get anything back on that deposit into Kinkaid’s account?”

“No, I didn’t turn in the request in time.”  She tunneled her fingers through her hair.  “Now we’ll have to wait till morning.”

Her computer beeped and Elliot went around to her side, leaning down to stare at the screen.  “You’ve got mail.”

Olivia rolled her eyes at him as she brought her mug back to her desk.  “It’s from NASCO.  I sent a request for background information on Fresh Start.”  She clicked on the icon, reading through the document quickly.  Her mouth set in a grim line when she came to the information they were looking for.  “Fresh Start is a part of the Preston Charities Group; co-chaired by Samuel Wainscott and his daughter.”  She set her coffee down with a sigh as she began to rub her temples.  “Why am I not surprised?”

Her partner recognized the wall she was about to hit and stood up.  “Listen, Munch and Fin are on their way to the Talbot Center; they’ve got the best lead we have on finding this guy.  All we can do here tonight is spin our wheels and grind our gears.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “You know what I think we could both use?”

She raised an eyebrow in question.

“A good stiff one.”

Olivia choked on her laughter.  “Speak for yourself!” 

“I meant a drink!”  Elliot glared at her. 

“I know!  But come on, how could I let that pass?”  She snickered.

“Whatever.”  He growled.  “Frank from the 2-2 said a bunch of the guys from Homicide are going to O’Malley’s tonight.  Why don’t we go with them?  I’ll kick your ass at darts again.”

Olivia grinned.  “No chance!  The only reason you beat me last time is because Alex walked through the door in that tight little grey skirt…”  Her voice trailed off and she looked down at the floor, swallowing thickly against the tightness in her throat.  Elliot looked away, but she could hear his teeth grinding as his jaw tightened in anger.  “No… I think I need to stay here.”  She smiled weakly.  “Stay busy, you know?  I don’t think alcohol is what I need right now.  But you go; no reason for us both to strip our gears.”

He looked at her carefully, trying to gauge whether she was just being nice or if she really wanted to be alone.  “You sure?” 

The corner of her mouth twitched and she blinked a little too rapidly.

Elliot understood.  He lived in a house full of women.  He knew it wasn’t that she wanted to be alone.  She needed to be alone.  “All right; I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She nodded absently, waiting until he was gone to sink into her chair with a bone weary sigh.  She looked at the papers scattered across her desk, trying to control the feeling of being completely overwhelmed, before folding her arms across her blotter and dropping her head on top of them.

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

08:41 PM

“Detective Benson?”

Olivia cracked one eye open, trying to drag herself awake as she stared up at the nervous looking patrolman standing over her.  Sitting up, she ran her hands down her face.  “Hey Mike.  Sorry about that.”

The young cop just smiled.  “If anyone deserves a nod now and then, it’s you guys.”

She shrugged.  She didn’t feel like being flattered at the moment, but he was a nice kid and a good cop so she didn’t want to take her mood out on him either.  “What’s up?”

He held out a thin transmittal envelope.  “These LUDS just got dropped off downstairs.  The Sarge said you’d want them right away, so I ran them up.”

She took the envelope from him, pulling on the thin cord that held the flap closed.  “Thanks, Mike.” 

He stood at her desk for a few moments longer until he realized he had ceased to exist for the gorgeous detective.  With a rueful sigh, he headed back downstairs.

Olivia laid the five pages out side by side on her desk.  As LUDS went, they weren’t much, but then Kinkaid hadn’t been out that long and who would really be calling a homicidal maniac anyway?  She ran her finger down each paper slowly, ignoring the numbers that had names next to them until she came to a series of repeating entries that started the day after the murder.  There was only a phone number, no name attached to it and each call lasted lest than two minutes.

Like someone was calling in to check their messages.

She grabbed her telephone, dialing a number quickly.

“TARU, Morales.”

“Hey, it’s Olivia Benson.”  She tried to control the excitement she was feeling.  “I’ve got a number off of Peter Kinkaid’s LUDS that I’d like you to check out.”

There was a deep sigh.  “Liv, I’m two hours into overtime.  Is this something that can wait until morning?”

“Is it ever?”

Morales laughed.  “Okay, you’re lucky I didn’t turn off the computer yet.  Give me the number.”

“212-555-5309.” She listened intently as his fingertips flew over the keyboard.

“It’s a cell phone.”

“Whose cell phone?”

“Hang on a second.  This is government equipment, it only works so fast.” There was a pause.  “Okay, I got a name.  It’s Wainscott.”

“Samuel?”  Olivia felt her pulse quicken.

“No… Julia.”

She blinked.  “Julia Wainscott is dead.”

“Maybe, but her cell phone is still active.”

Olivia’s eyes closed as understanding slammed home.  “Samantha took over her mother’s work with Preston Charities.”  She felt like slapping herself on the forehead.  “We found Samantha’s cell phone in her purse so we didn’t think to look for another one.  She had two cell phones!”

“Yeah, and this one’s moving.”

Her eyes flew open.  “What?”

“This cell phone has a built in GPS module.  I can track it by satellite.  It just entered the Holland Tunnel.”

Olivia thought quickly.  “Can you get me something to track that signal from my car?”  She asked hopefully.

Morales clucked his tongue thoughtfully.  “You get to explain the overtime.  Meet me here in twenty minutes.”

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Tuesday 09:41 PM

 

Olivia looked down at the handheld GPS unit Morales had given her.  The signal had remained strong for the last thirty minutes, leading her out of the city proper, through the Holland Tunnel and past Liberty State Park to the sprawling docks of Upper New York Bay where it became stationary.  She took the Avenue E off-ramp and followed the arrows on the screen to East 53^rd and Broadway.  Pulling the car over to the curb, she rolled down the window, blinking through the rain as she looked up at a glowing neon sign.

 

According to the little computer in her hand, Peter Kinkaid was inside.

 

Olivia picked up her phone and hit speed dial one.

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

Elliot walked down the plush hallway, hesitating when he reached his destination.  It had taken quite a few beers at O’Malley’s to work himself up to the point where he would actually meddle in his partner’s private life and now, away from the low lights and the heated buzz of angry cops, his thought processes on the subject seemed more than a little suspect.  For a moment, he considered just forgetting the whole thing and going home to his wife and kids. 

 

The he remembered the tears he had seen in Olivia’s eyes and his hand shot out, pounding on the door more vigorously than he had actually intended.

 

He heard the wood creak slightly as someone leaned against it and knew he was being viewed through the peephole.  There was a long pause before the door finally swung open.

 

“Elliot?”  Alex leaned to the side, looking behind him.  “Are you alone?”

 

“Yeah, Liv’s still at the station.”  He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.  “I thought you and I should have a little talk.”

 

The ADA sighed.  “Look, I appreciate that you think you have some kind of stake in this situation-“

 

“Situation?”  Elliot barked.  “Is that what you’re calling it?”  He took a step closer, lowering his voice.  “I have news for you counselor.  Olivia isn’t a ‘situation’.  She isn’t a case, or a perp or anything else you need to ‘handle’.  She’s my partner, my family, and right now you’ve got her so tied up in knots she doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going.  And for a cop, that’s a dangerous state to be in.”

 

Alex swallowed and looked down at the floor.  “I never intended for any of this to happen.”

 

“I don’t give a shit about your intentions, lady!  It happened!  Now you gotta deal with it!”  His voice rose to a near roar and he saw her flinch.  Dialing it down a notch, he ran his hand over his face.  “Look, I honestly can’t say I know what my partner sees in you; but whatever it is, it’s important to her.  If you can’t get your shit together long enough to figure out she’s the best thing that could ever happen to you, then you at least owe her the truth as to why.”

 

Alex stared at him, not knowing what to say.  She breathed a sigh of relief when his phone rang, breaking the tension in the small hallway.

 

“Stabler.”  Elliot blinked and pressed his hand over his other ear.  “Olivia?  I can barely hear you.  What did you say?”

 

“I said I found him!”  His partner’s triumphant voice crackled over the connection.  “Kinkaid stole a cell phone off the victim!  Morales was able to link it to a portable GPS unit and I tracked him to some dockworker’s bar called Backstay’s on Broadway and East 53^rd.”

 

“Broadway and…  Liv, that’s over past Jersey City, almost to Bayonne!  What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

Alex felt her heart drop into her stomach as she listened to Elliot’s side of the conversation.  She stepped closer, trying to hear Olivia’s voice through the tiny speaker pressed to the detective’s ear.

 

“He’s inside, El!  I need you to get here as fast as you can!  I’m going in to keep an eye on him.”

 

“What?  No!  Olivia, you stay right where you are, do you hear me?  Don’t you go in there without me!  I can be there in…”  He looked at his watch, swearing under his breath.  “Twenty-five minutes.  You wait for me!”

 

“No.” The sound of the driving rain drowned out her voice for a moment.  “We can’t risk losing him.  I’ll be all right.  Just hurry!”

 

“Olivia!”  Elliot pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at the screen as connection was broken.  He punched in her cell phone number, cursing when it went straight to voice mail.  “Son of a bitch!”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“She found Kinkaid at a bar over by the Upper Bay docks.  She’s going in without back up.”  He started to back away.  “Get on the phone, get Cragen, Munch, Fin…fuck, get everybody out there now!  Broadway and East 53^rd!”

 

Alex stepped away from the door long enough to grab her coat and her cell phone.  “I can make those calls from the car.”  She held up her hand.  “Don’t even try it!  I’m coming!”

 

Not willing to waste time arguing with her, he simply threw up his hands and pounded down the hall to the stairwell, the terrified ADA right behind him.

 

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Olivia turned off her cell phone and stepped out of the car.  After a moments thought, she pulled the rig from her belt, tucking the Glock into the back of her jeans where it was covered by her shirt and sliding the extra clip into her pocket before tossing the holster back into the car and locking the door.

 

Turning up the collar of her jacket to keep the rain off her neck, she glanced back and forth and jogged across the street.  As she stepped up onto the sidewalk, she took a hard look at the outside of the building, checking for blind spots.  Satisfied that she wasn’t about to be ambushed, she opened the door and walked inside.

 

The bar was a dive.  And that was being generous.  Once upon a time there had been some attempt at a maritime theme, as attested to by the faux porthole picture frames and the aged nets and buoys hanging in the corners.  At some point, however, the owner of the bar must have realized his patrons didn’t give a shit about ambience and just let the watering hole turn into the kind of place where people came to get lost.  The table tops had that pitted filmy look that came from decades of use and the vinyl booths had been patched with duct tape so many times she had originally thought they were silver.

 

Being a dive did not mean the place wasn’t packed though.  It was filled almost to capacity with every type of low life she was familiar with, and a few that even made her look twice. 

 

She did a quick glance around the bar and then settled onto one of the few remaining barstools.  It was the kind of seat no cop in their right mind would ever choose, leaving her back to the door and her profile on display for whoever might want to take a look. 

 

But the mirror behind the bar was an example of pure Benson luck.  Just by glancing to her left she had a view of nearly everyone in the place and she had just begun a thorough inspection when a large fist landed on the bar in front of her. 

 

Olivia looked up into hard, milky brown eyes that were the only thing clearly discernable in the mass of gray facial hair that covered the bartender’s face.  He was a large man, over six feet tall, with thickly muscled arms and a slight beer belly.  The skin on his face had the kind of permanent tan that only came from a lifetime of working in the sun and the deep lines around his mouth and eyes gave the impression that he spent a lot of time being pissed off.  “What are you doin’ in here?”  He grunted.

 

She curled her lip.  “Looking for a drink.”

 

“This place ain’t for you.”  He sneered.  “This is a working man’s bar.”

 

Olivia pulled off her jacket, flexing the muscles in her arms and shoulders as she draped it across the stool next to her, then she laid her hands on the counter face-up, suddenly grateful for the myriad of calluses and scars she had collected over the years as a cop.  “I look like a debutante to you?”

 

The bartender reached out quickly and grabbed her hand, flipping it over to look at her woefully neglected nails.  “Sorry.”  He grinned.  “I mistook you for a lady.”

 

“Yeah, well… don’t let it happen again.” She yanked her hand away.  “Now how ‘bout my fuckin’ drink?”

 

He laughed.  “What’ll it be?”

 

“Black and tan.”

 

He made the drink and slammed it onto the bar, causing the head to slosh over the side.  Still laughing, he walked away.

 

Olivia picked up the glass and brought it to her lips.  She turned her attention back to the mirror and nearly choked on her beer as a sudden chill ran up the back of her spine. 

 

Peter Kinkaid was sitting at the bar less than five feet away from her.  And pictures hadn’t done him justice.

 

The man was huge. 

 

Even sitting, she could tell he was well over six and a half feet tall and had to weigh close to three hundred pounds.  And every single one of them looked like solid muscle.  She made a mental note to write a letter to the board of corrections. 

 

Weightlifting probably wasn’t the best hobby for guys doing time.

 

Olivia studied him quietly over her black and tan, taking in the pale, sunken eyes, the slightly protruding forehead and the hands that looked big enough to pop Elliot’s head like a melon.  Energy seemed to flow off of him in waves, yet he sat completely still, one hand wrapped around a tumbler of whiskey as he stared at the top of the bar.

 

She had never seen anyone look more completely menacing without even trying. 

 

Olivia glanced away for a moment as someone moved behind her and when she looked back, she found two dead, black eyes staring directly into hers.  Her blood turned to ice when she saw recognition in them.

 

Peter Kinkaid may have suffered from many of the conditions caused by Sotos Syndrome, but mental deficiency was not one of them.

 

In the few brief moments their eyes connected, he had gleaned all the information from her that he needed.  He knew exactly who and what she was… and why she was there.

 

In one movement far too graceful for a man his size, he was off the barstool and running for the back of the bar.

 

Olivia jumped up and followed, shoving her way through the crowd in time to see him duck out the back door.  Pulling the gun from the back of her pants, she followed, leaving her jacket behind.

 

The rain outside was heavy enough to mask the sound of his footfalls but, graceful or not, a three hundred pound man can only run so fast.  She saw him exit the alley onto Broadway going left and took off after him.  He tried to stay in the shadows, but Broadway was a major street, wide and well lit.  She caught sight of him as he crossed over to 52^nd, where he kicked in the back door of an abandoned warehouse and disappeared inside.

 

Pounding up to the door, she flattened her back against the outside wall and yanked her cell phone off her belt.  She thumbed the direct connect but couldn’t get a signal.  Hitting her speed-dial, she cursed when Elliot’s number went straight to voice mail.  “Fucking hell…” She muttered to herself while she waited for the beep.  “Elliot!  I got him.”  She peered up at the wall behind her.  “He’s holed up in an abandoned warehouse with the name Vaati Precision on the outside.  One ten 52^nd Street!  I’ll hold him till you get here!”

 

She punched the vibrate button on the phone and slid it back on her belt before stepping into total darkness.

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

Elliot’s phone signaled a message as soon as they exited the Holland Tunnel.  He flipped it open and pressed it to his ear, his face contorting in rage as he listened to the message.  “NO, NO, NO!”  He pressed the call back button and listened to Liv tell him to leave a message at the beep. Snapping the phone shut he threw it violently onto the dashboard.

 

“What?”  Alex looked at him, terrified.

 

“She’s got the bastard cornered in a warehouse on 52^nd Street!  She’s going in alone!”

 

“No!”  The blonde felt her heart turn to ice. 

 

“Where the hell is everyone else?”

 

Frustrated, Alex chewed on her lower lip.  “Munch said they were right behind us, Cragen is on his way along with half the force.”  She grabbed his arm.  “Elliot…”

 

He shook his head.  “They’re not going to make it.”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

Olivia slid along the outer perimeter wall, using the streetlights shining through the upper windows to make out the large shapes lining the floor of the warehouse.  It may have been abandoned, but like most places, it still held the skeletons of its former life.

 

Huge, hulking husks of machinery sat ghost-like at odd intervals along the floor, surrounded by trash and leaking barrels filled with God only knew what.  The forgotten remnants of whatever company used to call this place home created a maze of corridors in the darkness that only got deeper the further in she went.  She had a flashlight in her pocket, but she knew the minute she clicked it on, Kinkaid would have the upper hand.  So, she inched along silently, trying to find some trace of the monster sharing the shadows with her.

 

Olivia lowered her gun, holding it close to her body as she crept up to the corner in front of her.  As she peeked around the edge, she heard a click she recognized and yanked her head back in time to avoid the bullet that embedded itself in the machine at her back.  She breathed in quickly as adrenaline shot thought her.

 

He had a gun.

 

Suddenly this didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.

 

“You’re probably wondering who would sell a gun to a guy like me.”  Kinkaid’s flat voice echoed off the walls of the warehouse, making it sound like it was coming from every direction at once.  “That’s the wonderful thing about this city, Detective Benson.  You can find anything you need, as long as you have faith… and money.”

 

Olivia swallowed.  Okay.  Two could play his game.  “Have we met?  I feel at somewhat of a disadvantage here.”

 

Kinkaid laughed.  “No we haven’t met.”  She tracked the monotone voice as it moved from her left side to her right.  “But I know all about you.”

 

“Gee, I wonder how that happened.”  Olivia said sarcastically as she moved back the way she had come.

 

“Friends in high places.”

 

“Not for long.”  She lunged across the opening to her left, ducking her head as three bullets ripped through the concrete behind her.

 

“You’re quick.”  There was a short laugh when she returned the favor, sending two rounds in the direction of his voice.  “But not quick enough.”

 

She needed to keep him talking, keep him amused and playing until Elliot and the cavalry got there.  “So tell me, Peter, what was the deal with you and those girls you hurt?  Did your Daddy not love you enough?”

 

Olivia edged her way around a stack of barrels and found herself staring into total blackness.  Using her hand as a guide, she slid it over peeling paper until it hit the smooth expanse of a wall.  Pressing her back to it, she moved deeper into the darkness.

 

“My father was a great man.  He taught me what was good and right.  What God expects from the pious, and the penance that must be exacted from the wicked.”

 

“Oh!”  She piled on the sarcasm. “So he didn’t just pass down a genetic disorder, he gave you a side of crazy, too!”  She bit back a gasp as she ran headlong into another wall.  “How does it feel to be a mistake?”

 

“GOD DOESN’T MAKE MISTAKES!!”  Kinkaid shouted down from right above her, sending Olivia rushing forward as a hail of bullets rained down from overhead.  The light from the muzzle flash illuminated the immediate area and she saw a rusty production table in front of her.  She threw herself on top of it, using her body weight to propel her off the other side.  On the way down, her jeans snagged on a ragged piece of metal and she felt part of them rip away, sending the contents of her pocket flying off in all different directions.

 

She landed hard, knocking the air from her lungs as she slid up against the far wall.  Flipping onto her back, she pointed the gun up and squeezed off three rounds, watching in satisfaction as Kinkaid jumped from the overhead catwalk he had used to stalk her.  The big man landed with a grunt before once again going silent. 

 

Olivia sucked in huge gasps of air as she slid her hands over her pockets, finding her flashlight but nothing else.  Cursing silently, she counted down from the full eleven rounds she had started with.  Six bullets left.

 

Fuck.

 

Would that even be enough to slow him down?

 

She rolled over onto her hands and knees and began to crawl across the floor, feeling along the ground for the missing clip.  Finally, she gave up and pulled the flashlight from her pocket.  She covered the lens with her palm and pushed the button.  Using the dull red glow, she followed the production table to its end before removing her hand and making one quick arc across the room with the bright beam of light.

 

There, eight feet away, lying on the open warehouse floor, was her clip.

 

Olivia tucked the flashlight back into her pocket.  She carefully edged her way out across the floor, staying as low as she could until she was close enough to reach out and grab it.

 

“Quack, quack, Detective.”  Kinkaid’s evil laugh washed over her.  “What a sweet little duck you make.”

 

There was a bright flash of light followed by a booming echo and Olivia’s side exploded into white hot agony. 

 

Not stopping to think, she raised her gun and squeezed the trigger repeatedly; spraying bullets in Kinkaid’s direction while she used her legs to push herself backwards.  When she reached the table, she grabbed the edge and pulled herself to her feet.  Gritting her teeth against the pain, she staggered along beside it, leaning on it heavily until she could tuck herself into the corner and try to catch her breath.  She could feel the blood running in rivulets down her side to soak what was left of her jeans.  Lightheaded, she stared down at the Glock in her hand, laughing bitterly when she saw the slide locked in the open position.

 

 

10:08 PM

 

Elliot pulled the sedan to halt in front of the abandoned warehouse, the nose halfway up on the curb.  He had just swung his door open when gunshots echoed from inside.  Drawing his weapon, he grabbed the cell phone from his belt and thumbed the direct connect.  “This is Stabler!  I’ve got shots fired at one ten 52^nd Street!  Possible officer-involved shooting!  I need backup and med services at this location now!”  He saw Alex reach for her door handle and threw her a fierce look.  “You stay inside-!”

 

A second series of gunshots rang out and glass from the windows above them showered down on the car.  Elliot covered his head with his jacket and ran around to her side, yanking the door open.  “We’re too close!  You need to get across the street!”  Alex jumped from the passenger seat, her shoes slipping on the wet asphalt as Elliot crowded behind her and pushed her along. The loud cracks of additional gunfire drowned out the rain as Munch and Fin pulled up, parking diagonally to block the street. 

 

Elliot opened the driver’s side door, pushing her down into a crouching position behind it once Fin had vacated the car.  He quickly took off his jacket and handed it to her.  “Stay here and wait!  No matter what you hear, do not come in that building!”

 

The air suddenly exploded with a long barrage of shots and the three detectives looked at each other grimly.  “We can’t wait for backup.”  Elliot checked his spare clip as they ran in a group formation for the entrance to the warehouse.  “When we get inside, Fin you go right, Munch you go left.  I’ll drive up the middle.  Take the fucker out if you can, but the priority is to find Liv and get her the hell out of there!”

 

Alex shivered as the pouring rain soaked through her clothes.  Pulling on Elliot’s jacket, she watched the detectives until they disappeared through the front door to be swallowed by the darkness beyond it.

 

“Please Liv…” she whispered; the tears on her face the only warmth she could feel.  “Please be ok…”

 

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

So this was how it was all going to end…

 

Olivia pressed her back to the wall as she felt her legs give out.  Slowly, she sank down onto to the dirty floor of the warehouse, her hand pressed tight against the excruciating pain in her side.

 

Taking a deep breath, she peeled her fingers away and stared down at the perfect black circle the bullet had made in her shirt.  Dazed, almost fascinated, she watched as the sullen red stain that covered half of her abdomen seemed to pulse around the wound, almost vibrating in intensity as fresh blood leaked from the opening.  Closing her eyes, she repositioned her hand and pressed hard, grimacing as tears slid down her cheeks. 

 

If she could just get it to stop bleeding…

 

She shifted slightly and the agony flared white hot, a small gasp tearing from her lips as she gave in to the reality of the situation. 

 

There was no exit wound; the bullet was still in there.  And every time she moved, she could feel it digging in a little deeper, tearing her up a little bit more.  Nothing would stop the bleeding… not now.

 

She felt her head begin to swim as dark spots filled the edges of her vision.  With the last of her strength, she raised the Glock in her right hand and thumbed the release.

 

The clip fell onto her lap and she swallowed, realizing it was much too light.

 

Empty…

 

She was still looking at it when the footsteps that had been moving towards her stopped.  She raised her head to find herself staring down the barrel of a .45 automatic.

 

There was an obscenely gentle laugh.  “I win.”  Kinkaid whispered.

 

The muscles in her arm gave out, causing her hand to fall to the floor beside her.  The Glock slipped from her fingertips and skittered across the concrete.  “Why, because you’re gonna kill me?”  She shook her head, the words punctuated by short, panting breaths.  “There are fifty badges outside.  One way or the other… you’re going down.”

 

“Maybe.” His finger caressed the trigger lovingly.  “But you won’t be here to see it.”

 

Olivia shrugged, biting back the gasp of pain that would have given away just how much effort the small movement cost her.  “I’ve scraped enough shit off my shoes to know what it looks like.  I won’t be missing anything.”  She watched as he drew his foot back and pulled her knees towards her, protecting her abdomen with the tops of her thighs.  The three sharp kicks delivered to her shins hurt like a motherfucker, but it was better than the alternative.

 

“Goodbye, Detective…”

 

When she didn’t close her eyes, he moved forward slightly, pressing the gun firmly against her temple.

 

She could feel the heat emanating off the barrel, left over from the shot that had impacted with her side, as the acrid scent of gunpowder assaulted her nose.  Still she did not flinch.  Lifting her chin, she stared directly at him, a small smirk on her lips.

 

She watched the hammer click back with a sick sense of fascination as she waited for her life to flash before her eyes. 

 

That was supposed to happen right?

 

But it didn’t.

 

If she was supposed to spend the last few moments of her life reminiscing about the things that were the most important to her, then it was going to be pretty hard to keep denying the only image that came to mind.

 

Intense blue eyes… behind thin black frames…

 

Olivia swallowed as unshed tears stung the back of her eyes.  I did it all wrong…  I need more time… I need her to know…

 

She took a deep breath.  “Tell me something would ya, Petie?”  She was counting on the one thing almost all skels had in common. 

 

They loved to talk about themselves.

 

The gun pulled back from her forehead slightly.  “What?”

 

“You had to have known at some point that she wasn’t the right girl.”  Olivia laughed, trying hard to keep her eyes focused.  “Or are you really dumb enough to think your boss wouldn’t notice?”

 

“I am not dumb!”  Kinkaid shouted, his flat voice echoing throughout the warehouse. “She was dirty!  She deserved it!”  He ran the fingers of his free hand along the top of his gun.  “He said it was the other one that made her do those things.  But he was wrong.  I watched her beg for it; beg to have that other bitch on top of her, up inside of her.  She was nothing but a dirty whore.”

 

“Is that what you told Judge Wainscott, when he asked you why you cut his daughter’s face off?”

 

Kinkaid flinched, the gun in his hand shaking slightly.  “I had to do that.”

 

Truly baffled, she just stared at him.  “Why?  It didn’t make it any harder to figure out who she was; all it did was delay the identification…”  Her voice trailed off as his actions suddenly became clear.  “That was the point wasn’t it, Peter?”

 

“To truly atone, you must confess your own sins.”  His voice had dropped to a heavy whisper.  “Otherwise you’re just apologizing because you got caught.”

 

“And you had to atone to the only father figure you’ve had for the last ten years, right Peter?  You needed the opportunity to explain what you had done to the one person whose opinion of you actually mattered.  Do you honestly think he gives a damn about you?  You killed his child!”

 

“He forgave me!”  Kinkaid pressed the gun to his forehead as the fingers of his left hand opened and closed convulsively.  “That’s why he told me all about you and your investigation!  He wasn’t going to let me get caught!  He cares about me!”

 

Olivia rolled her eyes, snorting sarcastically even though it sent a spasm of pain shooting through her side.  “See, this is why stupidity isn’t a valid defense.  He doesn’t give a damn about you; but he does know that if you go down, so does he.  That’s all he cares about, Peter.”  She laughed.  “To him you’re just the dog that slipped its leash and bit the wrong girl.”

 

“No… no…”  He began to rock back and forth, muttering under his breath.  “Sam forgave me.  He understood.  She was wicked, dirty.  She needed to be cleansed…”

 

“Just like your other victims?  The ones when you were twelve?”  Her eyebrows furrowed in mock confusion. “But… you raped them.  You didn’t kill them.”

 

“That was her fault!”  He snarled.  “Bitch tried to scratch my eyes out!  She tried to get away and my hand slipped.”  The speed of the rocking increased.  “You can’t escape the hand of God.”

 

Olivia looked at him carefully, then shook her head.  “No… I’m not buying it, Petie.”  She laughed sarcastically.  “I think you killed her because you couldn’t rape her.  Maybe all those years in that hospital had an affect on you.” She winked at him.  “C’mon, you can tell me.  How many times a week did the older boys slip into your room?  How long did it take before you actually started to like it?”

 

Kinkaid’s face turned bright red, the veins in his forehead bulging.  “Shut up!  You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

 

“Oh, but I think I do.”  She smiled pleasantly.  “I think you tried to get it up for Samantha but she just didn’t have enough hair on her back.”  She saw him raise his fist and managed to slide her head to the side as he backhanded her, cutting the force of the blow.  But fuck if it still didn’t hurt! 

 

What is it with people smacking me in the face this week? 

 

She licked blood from her lip. “Awww… what’s wrong, Petie?   Did I hit a nerve?  So what if you’re gay!  It’s all right, I understand!”  She had one last card to play and she tossed it out casually.  “I am, too.”

 

Olivia watched with satisfaction as Kinkaid’s eyes narrowed.  An ugly smirk twisted his lips as he tossed the gun away and pulled a seven inch serrated blade from his boot.  She glanced up at it, noting that the tip was missing as he used it to make the sign of the cross over his chest.

 

Then he was on his knees in front of her, pressing into her, pushing her legs further into her chest as he brought his lips so close she could smell the whiskey he had been drinking on his breath.  He took her hand and pressed it against his crotch.  “Feel that?” he sneered.  “So much for your theory.”  He released her and tangled his fingers in her hair, yanking her head back to press the knife against her throat.  “I’m going to fix you, in his name.  And then you’re going to die!”

 

Olivia smiled.  “You first.”

 

The gun echoed loudly in the empty warehouse as the force of the shot pushed Kinkaid backwards onto his knees.  His eyes widened as he stared down at the .32 automatic in her hand.  It wasn’t very big, but she had filled it with hot loads and from point blank range, it was more than enough.

 

Olivia pursed her lips. She had missed his heart, but the frothy blood that was bubbling out of the hole in Kinkaid’s chest told her she had at least gotten a lung.

 

That’ll do. 

 

Even giants had to breathe.

 

She watched the knife fall from his fingertips as he toppled backwards onto the warehouse floor, his lips moving convulsively as he tried to speak around the blood filling his mouth.

 

“Shhh…”  Olivia whispered. “I don’t like to make small talk when I’ve just fucked somebody.”

 

Her backup weapon felt like it weighed fifty pounds and she let her arm drop as her head rolled back on her shoulders.  The room in front of her began to narrow as blackness seeped in from all sides. 

 

The last thing she heard was the sound of people rushing towards her and a familiar voice calling out her name.

 

But it was all coming from so far away… and she just didn’t have the energy…

 

With a sigh she closed her eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

Chapter Eleven:  Do-Over

 

“GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY!!”

 

Alex looked up quickly as Elliot’s voice cut through the sound of the driving rain as well as the low din of the cops and cars that filled the street.  Her heart jumped up into her throat as she watched him rush down the steps holding Olivia in his arms.  The front of the detective’s dark blue shirt was stained a much darker color, his normally stoic eyes wild as he cradled his partner’s limp body in his arms.

 

The ADA’s hand came up, covering her mouth and cutting off the strangled sob that tried to break free.  The image of Olivia’s legs swinging lifelessly as Elliot ran towards her made her want to scream, but she knew if she fell apart then, she might never pull herself back together.  She swallowed once, counting each of his steps until he stood before her.  The world seemed to slow to a stop as she took in her lover’s ashen complexion and the dark blood that soaked one side of her body.

 

“ALEX!” 

 

Her eyes snapped up, connecting with Elliot’s.

 

“WHERE’S THE DAMN BUS?!?”

 

Her mouth opened and closed silently.  She couldn’t get the words to come out, so she pointed up the street as the sound of multiple sirens drew closer.

 

Elliot was behind the first ambulance before it had even rolled to a stop with Alex right beside him.  He kicked the back door violently, growling at the EMT when it finally swung open. “Hurry!  She’s lost a lot of blood!”

 

The paramedic jumped down, pulling the gurney out behind him and extending the legs as Elliot carefully lowered his partner onto it.  He tried to hang on to her hand, but the second EMT pushed him out of the way as she cut open Olivia’s shirt and pressed a sterile gauze pack firmly against the hole in her side. 

 

“How long ago was she shot?”  The male med tech barked at him.

 

“Not sure.”  Elliot stared down at his hands, watching as the rain cut through Olivia’s blood to fall to the asphalt in large red drops.  “Ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago?”

 

“Do you know the caliber?”  He covered Olivia’s face with an oxygen mask.

 

“.45.”

 

They strapped Olivia in carefully and lifted her onto the bus.  Alex climbed in right behind them, raising her hand to forestall anything that they might say.  “Don’t even try it.  I’m going with her!”  She glanced at both of their nametags as her voice rose.  “Lucy? David?  I’m an Assistant District Attorney for the city of New York.  Trust me; you do not want to fuck with me!”

 

The two EMTs glanced at each other.  “We don’t have time for this!” Lucy pointed to a corner the ambulance.   “Keep out of our way and we won’t have any problems.”

 

Alex looked out the back doors to see Elliot still standing there, obviously torn between what he wanted to do and what he was supposed to do.  She watched as the EMTs from the second ambulance ran up to him and began to ask questions. 

 

“He isn’t a victim, he’s the fucking perp!”  She heard him shout over the rain as he pointed to the warehouse.  “Gunshot wound to the chest.  Don’t feel like you have to rush.”  He met her eyes as David pulled the doors shut.  “I’ll be right behind you!”

 

“Move out!”  Lucy shouted to the driver.

 

The bus lurched into motion as the two EMTs started an IV and covered Olivia’s upper chest with sensor pads. David flipped a switch and the machines lit up, filling the small space with the sound of rapid beeping.

 

“O2 stats are low and falling.”  Lucy glanced at the cuff around the detective’s arm.  “Heart rate is erratic.”

 

Alex’s head shot up as the beeping became a solid whine.

 

“She’s flat-lining!”  David shouted, jumping up to grab a box from the locker above him.

 

“Olivia!”  Alex grabbed the brunette by the shoulders, shaking her harshly.  She watched the detective’s head loll back and forth lifelessly as tears rolled down her cheeks.  “Liv!  Goddamn it, wake up!”

 

“I need you to stand back, Ma’am!”  David grabbed her and pushed her towards the front of the ambulance. 

 

Alex braced herself at the head of the gurney, both of her hands on Olivia’s face as the paramedic quickly applied gel to a small set of defibrillator paddles.  He positioned them against the detective’s chest before motioning at Alex to move back.

 

“CLEAR!”  He thumbed the button and Alex held her breath as Olivia’s back arched briefly before thumping back down onto the gurney.  The EMT checked her pulse, shook his head and repositioned the paddles.  “CLEAR!”  He hit her again.  “I’ve got a pulse!  It’s weak, but it’s there.”  He tossed the paddles aside.  “Shit, it’s thready!  Bag her now!”

 

Lucy yanked off the oxygen mask and placed a ventilator over Olivia’s mouth and nose, squeezing the bag rhythmically to keep the air moving through her lungs while the other EMT readied a syringe of epi.

 

Alex stared at Olivia through tear-filled eyes, her heart breaking in her chest.  All she could think of was their last conversation… 

 

She bent down close, letting her tears fall onto Olivia’s forehead.  “I lied.”  She whispered; her voice breaking as she lost control of her emotions.  “I lied about everything.  It wasn’t our jobs, or my obligations.  It was you.  God, you scare the hell out of me.  What I feel for you scares the hell out of me.  Olivia, listen to me!  You can’t leave me here like this!  You can’t show me that all of this love crap is real and then go and die on me!  Do you hear me?  YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE!!”

 

“Ma’am?”

 

Alex looked up, the raw emotion in her eyes causing the paramedic who had spoken to blink repeatedly to keep her own tears at bay.  “We got her.”  She reached out and squeezed the ADA’s hand.  “We’ll be at the hospital in two minutes.”

 

Alex nodded, managing to hold it together for a moment longer before her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably and her slim body was wracked by wrenching sobs.  The EMT took her by the arms and gently pushed her down onto a small bench.

 

When they arrived at the hospital, the paramedics pulled Olivia out quickly, leaving Alex to be helped down from the ambulance by Elliot, who had followed behind them, sirens blaring the whole way.  He felt his stomach drop when the ADA’s slim body shook like a leaf beside him as he led her through the doors and into emergency.  “What’s going on?  How’s Liv?!?” 

 

“They…”  She took a deep breath to steady herself.  “They lost her… but they got her back.”

 

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.  He lead Alex to a chair outside of the emergency ward but when he tried to press her down into it she turned, burying her face in his chest as she began to cry.

 

Elliot froze for a moment, unsure of how to deal with the emotionally wrecked woman who was slumped against him.   Finally, he put his arms around her, holding her as she trembled. 

 

Well… He thought to himself.   Maybe not such an ice maiden after all.

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Four and a half hours later, Elliot looked up as the Olivia’s doctor stepped into the waiting room.  He coughed lightly, waking Alex, who had cried herself to sleep on his shoulder. 

 

The detectives of the 1-6 crowded around the doctor en masse, all of them asking questions until he finally held up his hand to silence them.  “I’ll speak to whoever’s in charge.”

 

Cragen nodded. “That would be me.  How is she?”

 

“Detective Benson is unconscious.  It’s really the best thing for her right now.  It was touch and go for a while; she lost over three pints of blood.  But you’ve got one hell of stubborn cop on your hands there.  The bullet missed all of her major organs.  Barring any complications, I’d say her chances are good.”

 

Alex felt like she was going to faint.  “Can we see her?”

 

“She’s in ICU.  Family only.”

 

Before Alex could respond, Elliot stepped forward, crowding into the doctor’s personal space as he gestured towards the blonde with his thumb.  “She is family.  We’re all her family.”

 

The doctor’s glance passed over him to settle on Munch and Fin.  For a moment it looked like he was going to say something, then he just shrugged.  “You’ve got guns and badges so…whatever.  But only one at a time for now.”

 

Elliot took the ADA by the arm and pulled her aside.  “Go ahead.”  He said gently.  “I know I’d want Kathy to be the first person to see me.”

 

Alex looked at him in surprise.  Swallowing her initial response, she simply nodded and followed the doctor back through the swinging doors.  He pointed towards a recovery suite and she nodded her thanks before quietly entering the room.

 

It was dark, the only light coming from the various machines and a series of call buttons situated on one wall.  Moving to her side, she looked down at Olivia, her heart aching as she took in the pallor of her normally olive-toned skin and the seemingly never-ending series of wires and tubes that connected her to the machinery surrounding the bed.  She reached out and touched her lower lip, tracing over the newly re-opened cut before ghosting across the bruise Kinkaid’s hand had left on her cheek.

 

“I almost lost you,”  Alex whispered.  She linked her fingers tightly with Olivia’s, lowering her head until it was resting lightly against the detectives shoulder, the tears she could no longer hold in check coursing down her face.  “I’m sorry.”  Her voice broke as her chest hitched painfully.  “God, baby, I am so, so sorry.”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

Alex groaned, pain shooting through her neck and back as the hand gently shaking her shoulder dragged her from sleep.  Blinking, she raised her head and tried to focus bleary eyes on the tall form standing next to her.  “Elliot?” 

 

There was a soft laugh.  “Yeah.”  He stopped shaking her but kept his hand on her shoulder for a few moments longer.  “You were in this same position when I came by five hours ago.  Have you been sleeping in this chair all night?”

 

The ADA tried to sit up, only to realize that her hand was still wrapped tightly around Olivia’s and her fingers had fallen asleep.  With a small grin, she pried them free and stood, stretching her arms over her head and wincing as her bones popped back into place.  “What time is it?”

 

“It’s almost noon.”  He shrugged.  “Me and the rest of the guys snuck in for a quick peek and then headed home for a couple of hours.  The doc says she getting stronger.”  He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently.  “She’s gonna be okay.”

 

“Then why hasn’t she woken up?”  Alex could hear the fear in her own voice and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t ashamed of it.

 

Elliot smiled.  “The blood loss left her really weak.  Her body just needs to heal.  The doc says it’s easier for it to do that if she’s out.”

 

She nodded, remaining silent for several long minutes as they both contemplated the larger than life woman who at that moment looked so small and fragile in her hospital bed.  “Elliot,” she said quietly.  “I know you and I… well, I know we never really got along.  I know that you don’t think I’m good enough for her and honestly, considering the way I’ve acted, I can’t blame you for that.”  She took Olivia’s hand, gently stroking her fingers as she spoke.  “She deserves so much better than I’ve given her, but I promise you that will change.  I’ll change; if she’ll give me the chance.”

 

Elliot stared at her, trying to gauge her honesty by what he found in her eyes.  Dropping his head, he nodding slowly.  “She will.  You know Olivia, the more screwed up you are, the more chances you get.”  He grinned.  “I’d say you’re pretty safe.”

 

“Thanks!”  She laughed lightly, only to be blinded by unexpected tears. “And I mean that.  Thank you.”

 

“You don’t have to thank me for saving Olivia, Alex.  She means a lot to me too.  I’m just lucky I didn’t let anything happen to you.  Otherwise I’m pretty sure she’d be kicking my ass as soon as she woke up, even if she had to do it with a crutch!”

 

Alex wrapped her free arm around his neck, standing on her toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

 

Elliot flushed and coughed to cover his embarrassment.  “Yeah, well…  I need to get back.  Lot of paperwork to do and your fill-in has the attention span of a grape.  Some chick from white collar named Casey?”

 

Alex shrugged.  “I don’t know her.”

 

“Lucky you.  Anyway, Donnelly was here this morning.  She saw you in here with Liv,” He rubbed the side of his neck and glanced at her pointedly.  “I let her know you’d probably be resistant to leaving so she told us to run the preliminaries through the temp and for you to call her as soon as you can.”

 

The blonde smiled.  “Thanks.”

 

He squeezed her shoulder one last time and left.

 

Alex looked down at Olivia.  “And you,” she sighed.  “You make me crazy, do you know that?  You always have.” She brushed a strand of hair off the detective’s forehead.  “I started falling in love with you the first day we met.”  She laughed.  “And it was all downhill from there.” 

 

Alex covered her eyes for a moment as she tried to hold back her tears.  “I fell in love once before, Olivia and when she left… it nearly destroyed me.  It took me years to put myself back together and when I finally did, when I finally got my life and career back on track, there you were; with your cocky walk and your attitude, your dedication… and your heart.”  She swallowed hard.  “How I felt about her was nothing, nothing, compared to what I feel for you.  And that scares the hell out of me.  She was a med student!  You’re a cop!  Every day I scan the dockets and I see how many cop killers there are.  It terrified me to think that I could love you as much as I do and lose you to one moment of bad timing… one wrong step.” She took a long, deep breath as she tried to steady her shaking hands.  “But last night I did lose you, in that ambulance.  And the only thing I could think of was that I wasted the time we had; that I had been given something precious and squandered it in fear of losing it.”  She dashed her tears away violently.  “Well, I’m done with all that.  When you wake up, I’m going to do whatever I have to do to get you to give me another chance, Olivia.”  She laughed quietly.  “I’m going to make you believe in all of this love crap, too.”

 

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Alex glance over her shoulder, her cheeks flushing when she saw Olivia’s doctor standing in the doorway.

 

“Sorry for the intrusion, but I need to take her vitals.”

 

The ADA nodded, turning her head slightly to finish wiping away her tears as the doctor went to the far side of the bed and flipped through Olivia’s chart before lifting her gown to check her bandage.  When he was done, he smiled at her and Alex felt her heart flip over in her chest.

 

“All her vitals are strong.  She’ll be fine.”  He fussed over her oxygen tube and IV for a few minutes, then nodded his farewell and left the room. 

 

She watched him leave, her shoulders slumping in relief.

 

“Is he gone?”

 

Alex spun around, her face splitting into a huge grin as Olivia blinked up at her.  Tears quickly filled her eyes as the fingers she held finally squeezed back.  “What?”

 

“Is he gone?”  The detective raised her free hand slowly and touched her jaw, wincing at the tenderness that met her fingers.  “I hate doctors.”

 

“He’s gone.”  She frowned when a slight shift caused Olivia to groan.  “But maybe I should call him back; get you something for pain?”

 

The brunette shook her head, her voice thick when she answered.  “S’just a scratch.”

 

“So tough,”  Alex teased, sliding her fingers through the detective’s short unruly hair.  “My tough little cop.”

 

“Who you calling little?”  Olivia seemed on the verge of passing out again, but she shook her head slightly and her eyes cleared. “Alex?”

 

“Yeah, baby?”  The blonde leaned in closer.

 

“I’m not little.”

 

“I know you’re not…”  Alex frowned.  “Exactly how long have you been awake?”

 

The detective’s lips twitched.  “Dunno.” 

 

Alex blinked rapidly as she felt herself falling into Olivia’ deep auburn gaze.  “I was wrong,” she whispered.  “Those eyes will get you anything you want.”

 

“So then...” Olivia smiled tiredly.  “About that ‘love crap’…”

 

The ADA bit her bottom lip.  “Heard all that did you?”

           

Olivia raised her hand, trailing an index finger tenderly across a pale cheek.  “I think that would qualify as an excited utterance.  Wouldn’t you agree, Counselor?”

 

“Are you going to hold it against me?”

 

“That depends.  What kind of deal are you offering?

 

A ragged sob tore from the blonde’s throat as she buried her face in the Olivia’s neck.  “How about twenty to life… with no possibility of parole?”

 

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

 

Chapter 12: Justifying The Means

Three Weeks Later

Monday 12:05 PM

 

Olivia clicked off the television with a loud sigh, tossing the remote control onto the couch beside her.  Daytime TV really did suck.

 

She had already watched all the episodes of Women’s Murder Club that Alex had hidden on the DVR in her bedroom.  The cases could have been better, but she had to admit, the subtext between the broody, dark haired inspector and the little red-headed reporter was entertaining, even if she had been rooting for the blonde at first. 

 

She had also spent an hour thinking of all the ways she could tease Alex about her trashy television impulses, but that would have to wait until the blonde found her way home from work.

 

So once again, Olivia was left to her own devices and finding the tedium of a perfectly good afternoon spent inside more than she could bear.

 

Maybe she could use that as an excuse for why she was being so snarky to Alex.  The lawyer had insisted that Olivia come home with her when she had been released from the hospital two weeks earlier.  She had taken the first ten days of the detective’s convalescence off work, handling her caseload by phone and email while she tended to Olivia’s injuries and tried to get the stubborn detective to let her take care of her.  Olivia had fought her tooth and nail, of course; except during the sponge baths. 

 

She wasn’t a fool.

 

She’d had plenty of visitors at first.  Elliot, Kathy, Munch, Fin and Cragen all took turns stopping in to see her until her bitchiness eventually drove them away as well.  She wasn’t actively trying to be an ass, but for someone who rarely ever stopped moving, three long weeks of inactivity were a torture she could barely tolerate.

 

So when Elliot had made a surprise visit three days earlier to shove the Wainscott case files into her hands, she would have kissed him if he had stayed long enough.

 

Rereading the files had kept her mind occupied when Alex went back to work.  She would sit for hours at the dining room table pouring over every detail of the case, rebuilding the timeline and committing all of it to memory for when she had to take the stand.

 

Now all they needed was for Peter Kinkaid to wake up and verify everything they already knew.

 

The sound of the key in the front door pulled Olivia from her thoughts, a bright smile lighting up her face as Alex walked in with a large white bag in her hands.

 

“Hey!”  Olivia went to stand up but quickly sank back onto the couch when Alex looked at her pointedly.  It wasn’t that the pain was all that bad anymore; in fact, her doctor had been amazed at how swiftly she had recovered.  No, the truth was that in the short time they had been cohabitating Alex had become amazingly attuned to any shift in her body language.  And since the doc was basing her release date on the lawyer’s frequent reports, it was better if she didn’t piss her off.  “What’s that?”  She pointed to the bag.

 

Alex leaned down, giving her a gentle but lingering kiss before answering.  “Meatball subs from Nardo’s.”

 

Olivia’s mouth started to water.  “Are you kidding me?”  She eagerly reached into the bag, pulling out a foot-long sub and tearing off the wrapper before taking a huge bite.  Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as little sounds of happiness escaped from her throat.  Since she had left the hospital, Alex had watched over her diet like a hawk, making sure it consisted of only nutritionally sound food; healthy, but boring as hell.  A foot long sub from Nardo’s was like ambrosia from the gods.

 

As Olivia was taking her second bite, a thought occurred to her and she glanced at the clock on the mantle.  Twelve-fifteen?  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “Not that I don’t appreciate the food delivery, but what are you doing home this early?”

 

Alex studied the older woman for a moment.  “The hospital called my office an hour ago.”

 

Olivia swallowed quickly, tossing the sandwich onto the living room table.  “Is he awake?”

 

“Olivia… Peter Kinkaid died this morning.”

 

The detective’s face went pale.  “What?”

 

“It was a blood clot.  It formed in his lungs and they didn’t catch it in time.  There was nothing they could do.”

 

Olivia’s face went stony.  “So what does that mean?”

 

Alex sighed.

 

“No!” The brunette jumped up and began to pace, ignoring the pain in her side.  “Do not tell me that bastard is going to get away with this, Alex!”  She rubbed her forehead.  “What about the fact that he was the one who released Kinkaid from FenBrooke only to have the guy kill his daughter two weeks later?”

 

“They would argue that Kinkaid went after Samantha out of revenge; a means of getting even with the man that put him away in the first place.  It’s what we all believed at first.”

 

“What about the money?”  Olivia demanded.  “We have the records of the ten thousand dollars Wainscott transferred into Kinkaid’s account a week before the murder!”

 

Alex shook her head.  “The money was actually transferred from the Preston Charities account for Fresh Start.  It is a program designed to help youth offenders get back on their feet after their release, Olivia.  Granted, the amount is about four times the normal allocation but that isn’t enough to charge him.”

 

Olivia tangled her fingers in her hair, pulling on it in frustration.  “What about the key?  And what about me?  What about what Kinkaid told me in that warehouse?”

 

“There were no fingerprints on the key and it was found in Kinkaid’s apartment.  Without a witness we can’t prove Samuel gave it to him.  And as for Kinkaid’s confession… an injured detective, suffering from massive blood loss…”  The blonde rose and walked over to her, taking her face between her hands.  “I believe he told you everything you say he did, Olivia.  But a good defense attorney could plant enough reasonable doubt to sway a jury and everything else is circumstantial.  I would be lucky to get the indictment… we would lose at trial.”

 

“So he just gets away with murder?”

 

Alex frowned.  “We needed Peter Kinkaid’s corroboration; a signed confession implicating Wainscott.  Without it, we’re dead in the water.”

 

Olivia growled in frustration, her pacing becoming almost frenzied in her anger.   

 

The ADA reached out and touched her arm, pulling back in surprise when the brunette went completely still, her gaze focused intently on the ground.

 

When she finally raised her head and looked at Alex, there was a strange gleam in her eyes.  “So…”  she smiled.   “Exactly who knows Kinkaid is dead?”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Monday 02:45 PM

 

Alex stepped into the interrogation room, not surprised to see Trevor Langan sitting next to Samuel Wainscott, a smug expression on his face. 

 

“Alex Cabot!”  He made a big show of looking behind her.  “Where’s your attack dog?  Someone finally teach her some manners?”

 

The ADA ignored the bait. “Trevor.”  She inclined her head in greeting.  “I guess sharks are attracted to blood.”

 

“My client has no blood on his hands.”  The defense attorney smiled and she immediately felt the need for a shower.  “At most, he is guilty of a lapse in good judgment.”

 

The blonde shook her head in amazement.  “That’s obtuse… even for you, Trevor.”

 

“So what’s with the rush on this meeting?  You guys have been dragging your heels for the last three weeks.  Now suddenly it has to be today?  What’s going on?”

 

Alex linked her fingers and stared at him silently, a confident smile her only response.

 

The smugness faltered slightly.  “Can we speed this up, Counselor?  The Judge and I have a four o’clock tee off time.”

 

“Not unless Rikers has recently installed a green I’m unaware of.”  She opened her briefcase and pulled out a small stack of papers before sitting down.

 

“Rikers?”  Trevor laughed.  “You know there’s no judge in New York who would ever hold Samuel Wainscott on remand.  He’ll be out in time for happy hour.”

 

Alex smiled humorlessly as she slid on her glasses.  “The next cocktail he gets will be served intravenously.”

 

The defense attorney straightened his tie.  It looked casual, but Alex saw it for what it was: a nervous reaction.  Beside him, his client had turned an interesting shade of white.   “What exactly is it that you think you have on my client, Ms. Cabot?”

 

She pulled a photo from her stack of papers and laid it on the table between them.

 

Trevor leaned forward, drawing the picture closer with the tips of his fingers as though it were somehow diseased.  “A key?”  He scoffed.

 

“A very specific key.  It’s one of three that were provided by the realtor when your wife Julia purchased your daughters apartment.  Do you see the serial number engraved on the side?”  Her finger slid across the photograph, drawing a line under the numbers shown in sharp relief.  “According to the Building Supervisor, this particular key was assigned to you, Samuel.  We found it in Peter Kinkaid’s apartment.” 

 

She placed a photocopied court order next to the picture of the key.  “This is your signature approving Peter Kinkaid’s early release from the FenBrooke Psychiatric Facility.” 

 

She placed two more photocopies side by side.  “This is Peter Kinkaid’s bank statement.  It shows a transfer from the Preston Charity Fresh Start, approved by you, in the amount of ten thousand dollars.”

 

“All circumstantial.”  Trevor waved his hand over the documents as though he could make them disappear.

 

“And this?” She laid down several pages of handwritten script.  “This is a signed confession implicating your client.”

 

“It was an intervention!”  Wainscott blurted out.

 

“Sam, shut up!”  Langan warned.

 

Alex leaned back in her chair as she looked at the judge thoughtfully.  “An intervention?”  She could feel the fear emanating from him.  The fear of going to prison with hundreds of men he had put there himself.  “You released a dangerously unstable man from a psychiatric facility to stage an intervention?  Explain, please.”

 

“Peter and I… we spoke several times over the years; whenever his case came up for review.  He shared my views on the perversion my daughter was caught up in and he was sympathetic to what I was going through.  He said he could help me.  But he was just supposed to remove those disgusting things from my daughter’s apartment.  That’s all! She wasn’t supposed to be there!  She logged a flight plan with the family jet to take her to Miami that week, I checked!  I was going to be there waiting for her when she got back.  I was going to make her get some help!”  He shook off Trevor’s hand when the defense attorney tried to get his attention.  “She wasn’t even supposed to be there!”

 

“So,” Alex pursed her lips.  “You’re stating that you sent Peter Kinkaid to your daughter’s apartment for the sole purpose of removing her… sex toys… in an attempt to stage an intervention against her self-abusive sexual practices?”

 

Wainscott dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking.  “Yes.”

 

“That’s your story?”  She didn’t try to hide her skepticism.

 

“Yes!”

 

“Samuel,” Alex began to gather her paperwork from the table.  “You do realize that Samantha’s apartment was transferred into her name upon your wife’s death which means that, even if you had a key, any attempt on your part to enter the dwelling would be considered breaking and entering?”

 

His voice was very small.  “Yes.”

 

“And do you further realize that the act of compensating someone to remove property that is not yours from a residence that you have provided illegal entry to constitutes robbery?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Alex stopped what she was doing and leaned on the table, lowering her head to look Wainscott in the eyes.  “And do you understand that the monetary value of the items you have stated you sent your agent there to collect exceeds sixteen thousand dollars?”

 

Trevor grabbed his clients arm a second too late.

 

“Yes.” 

 

Alex smiled.  “Which makes it a felony.”  She watched the judge’s eyes widen as understanding slammed home.  She knew he was aware of what she was going to say next but she enjoyed saying it nonetheless.  “And a murder committed during the commission of a felony as the result of the actions or interference of another person constitutes felony murder, whether the acts were intentional or accidental, and criminal liability can be imposed upon all participants involved in the felony… including accomplices assisting before the commission of the crime.”

 

She watched his jaw drop.  “In addition to the felony murder charge, we will also be filing charges of conspiracy to commit felony murder in regards to Serra Tate, who was NOT included on the flight plan to Miami that week, which you would have known, had you checked as you previously stated.  Add to that the B&E charges, the robbery charge and the fraud and falsification of government documents and you’re looking at forty three years minimum.”

 

“You’re insane!”  Trevor sputtered.

 

Alex straightened to her full height, pulling her glasses to the tip of her nose as she looked down at him.  "I may not be able to put a needle in his arm, but you can rest assured that the DA's office will be recommending the maximum for each charge and that all sentences run consecutively."  She looked directly at Langan, one eyebrow rising slightly as her lips quirked into a satisfied grin.  "Which means that my children will be sending your clients to prison before parole is even an option.”

 

For a moment, both of the men were silent.  Then Wainscott began to cry softly.  “I loved Sammy.  It wasn’t supposed to be her.  It was never supposed to be her.  He was supposed to kill Tate.  I just wanted to save her...”

 

“If you had ever bothered to actually talk to your daughter, she might have confided in you that she and Serra had already split up.”  His eyes met hers, full of shock and remorse, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for him.  “That’s what hate and intolerance will get you, Samuel.  Was it worth it?”

 

He didn’t answer and Alex began to slide the paperwork back inside her bag.

 

“Come on, Cabot; there’s a deal to be made here!”  Trevor gave her his most ingratiating smile.  “What are you offering?”

 

Alex’s gaze traveled from the lawyer she despised to the judge she had known for years.  “My condolences...”  she picked up her briefcase, pausing by the door on her way out.  “…to the woman who loved your daughter.”

 

The attorney stepped out of the interrogation room, her eyebrows going up in surprise when she found herself with a burly arm thrown across her shoulders as soon as the door shut behind her.  Looking up, she blinked at Elliot’s smiling face.  He had been nervous at first about sending the lawyer in alone, but Olivia had been adamant that Alex could do it.

 

And she had been right.

 

Elliot shook his head in amusement as he laughed.  “Couldn’t have done it better myself.” 

 

Pleased by the compliment and feeling absurd for being so, Alex merely nodded, accepting his congratulations with good grace. 

 

“We’re all going down to O’Malley’s to celebrate.  Think she’s up to it?”  He asked hopefully.

 

The lawyer laughed.  “I’m sure she would say she is.  I’ll pick her up and meet you guys there.”

 

Elliot looked at her in surprise.  “That’s it?  No arguments about her needing to rest?”

 

Alex had the good grace to blush.  She had been declining invitations from the squad for the last week, wanting to give Olivia enough time to recuperate.  But she knew there was no way she would be able to keep the stubborn detective from this particular celebration.  “I think she can handle one beer.”  She held her finger up in front of the detective’s nose.  “One.”

 

Elliot plastered an innocent look on his face and nodded.  “I do solemnly swear to follow the directions of my ADA.”

 

“Well,” She smirked.  “There’s a first time for everything.”  As she collected her jacket she glanced at Cragen who had been eyeing her speculatively.  “Is something wrong?”

 

“No.”  He shook his head ruefully.  “I was just thinking.  I know it’s legal for us to lie to get a confession from a perp, but it’s not something I’ve ever seen you do before.  Quite honestly, I didn’t think I ever would.”

 

Alex grinned at him.  “I just said it was a signed confession, Captain.  I never said it was Peter Kinkaid’s.”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Tuesday 02:48 AM

 

Alex moaned softly in her sleep, her tongue reaching out to wet her lips as the most exquisite sensations began to sweep through her body.  She tried to arch her back as they intensified only to find that she was pinned to the bed by a firm weight lying across her abdomen.   Opening her eyes, she looked down, breathing heavily as she took in the sight of Olivia with her lips wrapped around one of her nipples while her fingers gently massaged the other.

 

“What are you doing, baby?”  She swallowed as her body trembled.

 

Olivia looked up at her and grinned wickedly.  “Arguing my case.”

 

Alex laughed.  “I thought we shelved these proceedings until further notice.”  She put her hands on either side of Olivia’s face and gently pulled her up for a kiss.  When they broke apart, she looked at her soberly.  “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

 

“Then be easy!” She raised one eyebrow lecherously.  “I mean, come on, Alex!   It’s been weeks; weeks of lying next to you in this bed and not being able to touch you.  I’m a cop, not a saint!”

 

“You’re an injured cop.”  She brushed at the hair that always fell across Olivia’s forehead.  God, how she loved that hair.  “You were shot, remember?”

 

“Vaguely.”  She leaned down until her mouth was a breath away from the blonde’s neck.  “But I wasn’t shot in the lips.”  She kissed her gently then bit down.  “Or the teeth.”  Her hand traveled down the smooth skin of Alex’s side, raising goose bumps in its wake.  “Or in my hand…”  She slid her fingers into the warmth between the younger woman’s thighs, groaning at the moisture that had already pooled there.  Closing her eyes, she starting to move down Alex’s body.  “Or my tongue…”

 

“Wait, baby, wait.”  Alex put her fingers under the brunette’s chin and raised her head so that she could look into her eyes.  “If we do this, you have to promise me you’ll wait a day longer before asking the doctor to release you.”

 

Olivia’s eyes widened.  “Seriously?  You’re a lawyer and you’re throwing quid pro quo at me?”

 

Alex shrugged.  “You’re lucky it isn’t costing you a day per orgasm.”

 

The detective considered that a moment.  “You could be right…”

 

“Listen… I know I can’t keep you safe; that what you do is dangerous and that risking your life is a big part of your job.  I accept that.  But I can make sure that when you do go back, you’re a hundred percent.  Please… let me do what I can.”

 

Olivia swallowed.  “All right.”  She grinned as she began her descent once again.  “But only because you love me so much.”

 

“You love me more.”  Alex teased, before the brunette’s tongue touched her and she lost the ability to speak.  As Olivia proceeded to turn her world upside down, she amended her previous statement, the words repeating over and over in her head.

 

No… not possible…

 

 

Epilogue – Everybody Needs A Hobby

 

Elliot looked up, whistling appreciatively as his partner walked out of the Captain’s office.   She was still decked out for court, wearing a sharp pin-striped charcoal suit that seemed just a little too tight for her.  He raised his eyebrow lecherously and then laughed when she flipped him off.  “So?”

 

Olivia sat down at her desk.  “Forty-five minutes.”  She beamed.  “It took the jury forty-five minutes to come back guilty on all counts.  Alex and I had just sat down at the restaurant.  We hadn’t even ordered our lunch yet and we had to rush back to court to watch Wainscott and Langan go down in flames.  Sentencing is next week.”

 

Her partner nodded happily.  “So what does Alex think?”

 

She sighed, setting down the two firearms she had just retrieved from Cragen.  “The needle’s off the table.  Wainscott may have been responsible, but there’s still the lack of intent.  She’s pretty sure he’ll get life.  And since he’ll have to spend most of that time in segregation for his own safety, I’d say that might even be worse.” She picked up the Glock, checking the action quickly before sliding it into the holster on the side of her pants.  It made the elegant jacket stick out at an odd angle, but from the smile on her face, she couldn’t have cared less.  Then she picked up the .32, running her fingers lovingly over the rosewood grips.

 

Elliot couldn’t help ragging on her.  “So I.A.B. actually gave you back that pea shooter?  I figured they’d write you up for carrying such a girly gun.”

 

Olivia threw him a nasty look.  She inspected the small clip then tipped the barrel up to add an extra round from her desk before sliding the automatic into the holster on her ankle.  “I’ll have you know this ‘girly gun’ is a Berretta Tomcat.  It may be small, but it’s powerful… and it saved my ass!”

 

His lip curled slightly.  “Eh, maybe it wouldn’t look so bad if you didn’t put those pink grips on it.”

 

“They’re not pink…!”  Her voice trailed off as she looked at him fondly.  “God I’ve missed you!”

 

Elliot grinned, watching as she spun from side to side in her chair and caressed the edge of her blotter.  “So the doctor released you to desk duty, huh?”

 

“Yup!”  Her grin lit up the room.  “One step closer to getting back on the street!”

 

“How’s Alex handling it?”

 

Olivia paused, a goofy smile plastering itself onto her face.  She stared off into space for a few moments until Elliot cleared his throat, causing a flush to creep up her neck. “She’s doing a lot better.  She’s worried that I’m trying to come back too soon, but she relaxed a bit once the stitches came out.”

 

“Glad to hear it, but that’s not what I meant.”

 

She arched an eyebrow.  “What did you mean?”

 

“How’s she dealing with the lack of small talk?”

 

Olivia stared at him in confusion for a moment then rolled her eyes as she groaned, “You’re an idiot!”

 

Ignoring his laughter, she opened one of the numerous files on her desk; a small smile playing at her lips as she finally got back to work.

 

 

 

The End 

 

 

 

Click for excerpts from the SEQUEL to Thin Frames:

Res Ipsa Loquitur

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